#her voice is so so fucking good she is divine

[fakeagatha]

Mrs Fletcher | Prof!Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader | Chapter Six: Sore Tongue

Summary: Eve shows up to the university with an unexpected change.

A/N: This is probably the longest chapter I've written so far, even though the word count isn't that high. I'm quite proud of myself for posting another chapter so soon after chapter five! Anyway, please enjoy.

Warnings: Implied NSFW, Needles?, Alcohol

Word Count: 2022

AAA Community

Divine Headcanon Generator

Two days after your "date" with Eve, Monday had made its return and you were heading to leave for class. You didn't feel like it, but honestly, you never do. Checking through some of your books, double checking that your diary was on your desk where it should be, you zipped up your bag and grabbed a couple of pens from your desk.

You felt lucky having a single dorm. It could occasionally get lonely, but at the same time, you were free. You could do whatever you wanted without being watched over, and decorated how you wished, hence to why you had a section of your wall dedicated to pictures. You would stand there and look at them often. Your parents, some pictures with Steve, some of your cousins, but you would linger on a picture of you and your ex girlfriend in the middle, Haley, in the dorm you shared in college. You wanted to forget about her, maybe to feel less guilty about everything, but it wasn't easy.

You shook your head, and left the room, walking to your first class: Latin, an extra class you had chosen to take. It wasn't too far from the dorms, luckily enough. As you entered the floor the class was on, Mrs Fletcher suddenly bumped into you as she was coming out from one of the staff bathrooms.

"Mrs Fletcher! Good morning, sorry for bumping into you." You chuckled, looking up at her, wearing that cute pair of glasses you thought suited her face perfectly.

"Hey Y/N," She replied, and her voice sounded a bit strange. As you spoke, you noticed something. You weren't trying to be creepy by taking a glance into her mouth, you just noticed it from the corner of your eye. Your eyes quickly darted back down to look at her mouth once again just before she managed to close it, trying to confirm what you thought you had just noticed. And it fucking was.

"Mrs Fletcher, what's that?"

Her eyes widened, "No'hing?"

"... No way." You gasped. "Mrs Fletcher, open your mouth."

Eve tilted her head downwards, trying to block your view, "Why?"

"You aren't fooling me!"

Eve couldn't help but smirk at you, looking away sheepishly at having been caught.

"You got a fucking tongue piercing."

Eve laughed a little, "hey, 'anguage!" She warned, playfully sticking out her slightly redder and swollen tongue, with a long silver bar. "I got a 'ittle 'ealous of your eye'row." She pointed to your piercing, which you actually forget is there because of how long you've had it. "I wa' fee'ing... rebe'ious. Go' i' done after our coffee. I wa' very swollen yester'ay, I'm jus' surprised I 'an speak a'ready!"

You couldn't help but smile like an idiot, who would've thought that your 45 year old professor would get a tongue piercing, of all things?

"Speak? I'm only just barely understanding you miss. How are you going to teach your classes?" You chuckle, "Are you even allowed to have a tongue piercing?"

Eve grinned, clanking the jewelry against the back of her teeth, "I don' know, an' proba'y not.

"Is that why you said you had somewhere to be on Saturday? You realized you were going to be late for your appointment?" You giggled, looking at her in amusement every time she spoke.

"Yah! I go' there late!" She exclaimed, making you laugh again, a sound Eve actually loved hearing. "I' was very scary, I don' like need'es."

You bit your lip, "That looks so painful though, I didn't take you for someone to do through with a tongue piercing." You joked, making Eve chuckle and nod in response.

As Eve tried to ramble on about how nervous she was, almost oversharing the nervous poop she had beforehand, you cut her off, "I don't want you to irritate it, why don't you tell me all about it tomorrow so you don't accidentally hurt yourself?" You offered, and Eve couldn't help but blush at your consideration. She nodded, poking her tongue out one final time before heading down the hallway.

Well, that just might have been the hottest thing you had seen in a while, and certainly NOT what you expected at 9am on a Monday morning.

Steve sneaked up behind you, attempting to scare you as if you hadn't already noticed him. He frowned in disappointment, and you put your finger to your lips.

"Don't go telling everyone but... If you, hypothetically, had to guess where Mrs Fletcher would choose to get a piercing, where do you think it would be?"

He looked at you in confusion, before smirking. "Definitely, her ni-"

"Don't."

"Fine. I don't know, her nostril or something?" He shrugged, and you shook your head.

"Tongue."

"Ouch, but-" His eyes widened in realization, looking at you for confirmation, "She didn't, there's no way, you're pranking me. I don't know why you'd choose that for a prank, it's a little weird-"

"Steve, I'm not joking."

He looked at you in silence, almost as if contemplating whether to believe you or not. "For real?"

"For real."

He started to laugh, and you joined in. It was so random, and any other person wouldn't believe you. Everyone knows that Mrs Fletcher is innocent (on the outside), and no one would imagine, not even in one hundred years, that she would do something so insane as a tongue piercing, especially since she once shared with one of her classes that she cried at 38 years old because she had to have blood drawn.

"Okay, I got to get to class, we'll talk later." You waved goodbye, and Steve headed into the opposite direction.

The rest of your classes went by pretty smoothly. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, which was unusual. Normally you have to deal with at least one snarky comment or insult a day, whether it be from a classmate, or Mrs Evanora. Before leaving, you popped your head into Eve's open office door.

"See you tomorrow, Mrs Fletcher." You smiled, and she gave you a kind wave, indicating she probably couldn't really speak.

Eve finished her own work about an hour later, and took the drive back to her house, the thought of her bed being very irresistible.

She pulled up outside, and took a few minutes to water her flowers, admiring the rose bush that had started to bloom. She went inside and quickly replaced her work heels with a pair of slippers that were way too big for her.

She made her way to the bathroom, and swished some cold water through her mouth to soothe her tongue, unable to stop checking herself out in the mirror every now and then, making ridiculous poses, fantasizing herself as a tongue model. Wait, did those even exist?

She quickly changed into a gray tank top with some shorts, and got into bed. She opened up her laptop, and couldn't resist browsing online, looking at some things she probably wouldn't want anyone to know she was watching.

Sleep eventually overtook her, as she went into a slumber she so desperately needed, even though her day wasn't as tiring as it sometimes was. And, as if no time at all had passed, she woke up to her alarm blaring into her eardrums.

17:56

'How and when did two hours pass?'

Testing her speech, Eve found herself being able to talk again, to a comprehensible point at least, so after a brief phone call and her voice still groggy, she changed into a bikini with a plain black dress on top to head over to Amanda's house to relax in her jacuzzi for the evening.

Even at the last minute, Amanda was rarely busy in the evenings and was always open to a meet up, even if it's just for a chat. Eve doesn't understand how she does it, but she admires it, a little jealous of her social battery and availability, even.

It was already dark out as she stepped into her car, regretting not taking a jacket beforehand even though it wasn't that cold, but she really couldn't be bothered to go back inside to get one. She started the engine and turned up the heat a little bit, just to warm up the vehicle.

The drive to Amanda's was only around ten minutes, since she didn't live too far away from Eve, making it convenient to have wine nights together. She knocked on the door, pulling her friend into a hug upon greeting each other.

"Come in, mind turning on the jacuzzi? I'll bring us some wine." Amanda grinned, heading into the kitchen. Eve nodded, walking to the balcony window and stepping into Amanda's back yard. Despite the fact that the woman lived alone, her house was quite big, hence the big outdoor space.

Eve looked towards the side of the jacuzzi, and turned it on, watching as the bubbles began to form. She stripped herself from her dress and took off her heels, stepping into the warm bubbly water, letting out a sigh at the warmth which replaced the cold evening air on her skin.

Amanda came outside a few moments later, a bottle of wine, two glasses and a bowl of Cheez Its in her hands. Eve quickly stepped back out to help her, "You're going to drop something!" She mused.

"I don't like having to take multiple trips. If my hands can carry them, I carry them." Amanda replied, smirking, and Eve rolled her eyes as she helped her place everything onto the the jacuzzi wall.

They stepped back in together, and Amanda made a similar sound of pleasure at the warm water.

Anything new at the senior home?" She inquired, and Amanda shrugged,

"Poor Shirley had a fall, which startled Brenda so much she had a heart attack." Amanda sighed, looking almost unfazed.

"That's..." Eve froze, looking up at her friend with wide eyes, "Tragic?"

Amanda laughed, nodding, swaying her hand through the water.

"Why don't you come work full time at the university instead? If you'd prefer?" Eve suggested, sliding over to sit next to her.

"I don't think I'd work full time stocking up the library, the old people are way more interesting. Unless it completely shuts down, I'll stick with part time at the uni." She she shrugged, and the woman next to her nodded in understanding. "Besides, what's going on with that teacher's pet of yours?" Amanda teased, and Eve shoved her.

"Don't say that." She laughed, "But... She might have treated me to a coffee, or well, tried to. I paid for her when she wasn't looking."

Amanda's jaw dropped, setting her wine glass down to cover her mouth. "What?!" 

Eve nodded, giggling. "Yeah, I was there with some coworkers and she was having lunch with her friend behind us, and as I was about to leave, she asked me to stay for another drink." She explained further, making Amanda look even more excited with every word.

"Are you living in a book or something?" 

"I think I might be."

Amanda smirked at her, moving her arms to rest them on the wall, before wincing.

 "Ugh, my hand is still bruised because of you." She groaned, and Eve put her own hands up in defense.

"Hey, you offered!"

"Yeah, to distract you from the pain, you started squeezing the life out of my hand before the needle even reached you!"

"Okay but still, it was so worth it." Eve stuck her tongue out for emphasis, showing off the jewelry.

"The swelling has gone down so much!" Amanda exclaimed in surprise, making Eve nod excitedly.

"Yeah, before you know it, I can change it to that vibrating jewelry I found on Etsy last week-"

"Eve!"

"Sorry!"

Amanda shook her head, sighing, "What did she think of it?"

Eve's cheeks reddened, giving her a smirk. "Oh, she noticed immediately. Before anyone else did. I know I shouldn't have it in the working environment, so I am a little worried now..."

Amanda clicked her tongue, looking towards Eve's mouth again, "Well, if anyone calls you out, say they're a pervert for looking there."

"At my tongue?" She laughed, and the other woman nodded.

"Yes!"

Eve rolled her eyes at her antics, listening as she randomly began to talk about some of the trash she had to clean up at the university library, even though it wasn't part of her job. The night went on, and it didn't take long for the pair of them to become tipsy on a single bottle of wine.

[arosebyan0thername]

Life is so hard for me as a queer person who is not interested in ch*ppell r*an for just very normal not deranged reasons, because if people ask and I say "no I don't really like her" then I am running the very high risk of being perceived as either a lesbian hater or one of those online freaks who thinks she "doesn't deserve fame" because she doesn't want literal stalkers at her door, but if I say yes then I will have to sit through her entire discography at every function 😮‍💨

[gladiatorcunt]

🍒🍦 ⸺ ᳂ cherry vanilla dr. pepper !!!

cw: afab reader, voyeurism, tashi and you make out while you get pounded, weird amalgamation of dehumanization/objectification/pet play, subby!art coded, spit roasting at the end, slight overstimulation, bizarre orgy vibes, mean dom!tashi to everyone but you <3, implied breeding/creampie kink, canon typical mind games, tashi sits in the cuck chair /j, implied romantic feelings but no mention of established romantic relationships, slight mxm, clit stimulation, one use of “mommy”

happy challengers day 🎾💚

consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip !

“Round 4 will be the last one, alright? Get ready, baby.”

You take deep breaths, clutching onto Patrick’s wrist. You lock eyes with Tashi, feeling syrupy sweet deep in your gut. She grins and unbuttons the top buttons of her shirt, leaving you three to your own devices for now.

The stretch of Patrick’s cock stings and burns a little but Art nipping at your hip bones helps distract you. Patrick pants against the nape of your neck, you feel so divinely tight he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

He keeps his voice low so Tashi can’t hear him, “Fuck-you feel incredible, i’d kill for this pussy, you know that.”

“Hook your arm around their neck, good boy.” Tashi instructs Patrick, leaning back in the hotel chair and palming her pussy at the sight in front of her.

“Yes, ma’am.” He swiftly calls back, acting like he hadn’t said anything to you at all.

Patrick has you in a headlock, pummeling his cock in and out of your pussy with reckless abandon. Art is beneath the two of you, suckling on your clit like it’s a nipple he’s trying to get milk out of. He licks where you’re stretched around Patrick, drawing groans from you both and a chuckle from Tashi.

“Be a good dog and lap them up, okay? I’d hate to have to take away your toy privileges.” She sneers, sliding her damp underwear to the side and stroking her slit.

The “toy” in the equation isn't you.

You’re dead to the world, eyes bulging out of their sockets and nails trying to rip the white sheet to shreds. Your head and tits rock back and forth with Patrick’s thrusts, already on the brink of your fourth orgasm. You try to scream that you can’t take anymore, but you wanna make Tashi proud so you shut up.

“ ‘s so good…” Art hums into your mound, pecking little kisses onto it here and there.

His sounds are muffled but the vibrations send your eyes to the back of your head. The chair in the corner of the room creaks as Tashi gets up, and the second you lift your head and open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you with all the warmth she doesn’t give the men pleasing you. This isn’t about them, it never was.

“Patrick’s so big, Tashi-he’s unggggh-he’s gonna kill me!” You whine, desperately pawing at her clothed breasts.

She coos and pulls her blouse up, bringing your hands to cup her tits and keeping them there, “Baby you know he’s not, this pussy can take a beating. I’d only give you the best toys.”

You nod wordlessly, pouting your lips. She gets the message and claims your lips in a searing kiss, luxuriating in the slick slide of your lips. She loves to make it messy, getting spit all over your mouths and letting it drip on the bed.

Art mewls and flicks your clit, trying to get your attention. You feel bad and try to pull away from Tashi, but she yanks you back into the kiss and bites your lip as a punishment. You hiccup into her mouth, startled when Patrick starts jackhammering into you.

Tashi typically has them alternate, but Art prefere to bury his face between your thighs and Patricks likes to play with fire by cumming inside your sore cunt. He doesn’t speak as much as Art does, but sometimes he holds Tashi stare as you two make out. They’ll have to retire from Tashi’s “employment” eventually, and they’ll be taking you with them when they do. All games of keep away end.

Patrick traces letters and shapes on the glistening skin of your sweaty back, sloppy hearts and ‘ I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U ‘ s.

You gasp and wrench yourself back to breathe. Art flattens his tongue and licks broad stripes over your labia. He nuzzles his nose into you, stopping to pant and take in your smell. He may be delusional, but he’s convinced that every part of you is so sweet. He honest to God can’t get enough, he’d lie in a puddle at your feet if you wanted him too.

Sometimes you feel torn when you fall into bed with your lovers. You’re too soft to be like Tashi, but that exact softness is exactly why you can’t handle being away from her for too long. Maybe you’ve fallen under her spell just like all the rest, but she puts her career on the line to prove how special you are.

Patrick pulls you up to rest your back against your chest. You let your head fall onto his shoulder and you moan when he adjusts the angle of his thrusts to rub against your cervix repeatedly. He wasn’t like this when the evening started, Patrick only roughens you up when you’ve been thoroughly run through and can take it with a dopey smile and glazed eyes.

“Keep going, it’s okay- want it-want you.” You cry out to Patrick, reaching down to caress his hip.

He smiles and licks your cheek, complying with your request.

Art grins up at you with his eyes, mouthing ‘That’s my angel, only for us.’ into the flesh of your inner thigh. He moves to Patrick balls and takes them into his mouth, bobbing them up and down with his tongue. Patrick moans as Art laves his balls in saliva. Art lets them fall out of his mouth, curling his tongue around the inches peeking out of your pussy and hollowing his cheeks out.

“Shit! Stop, ‘m gonna cum!” Patrick hisses through his teeth.

He either empties another load into you or he just refuses to cum if your pussy’s not available, period.

“They’re so hungry for it, aren’t they? Well, can he? Can our dog cum inside you, baby?” Tashi tsks, cupping your cheeks and bringing your attention back to her.

“Yes, yes, yes! He can cum inside-please let him cum inside mommy-i need it so bad-wanna be stuffed full with it!” You whimper and arch your back, jutting your tits out.

Tashi laughs and leans down to suck one of your pert nipples into her mouth, bouncing your other breast in her hand. Tears spill from your waterline down to her freshly manicured nails. Art has since gone back to sucking the life out of your clit, and the little wink he sends you doesn’t help you hold back your impending orgasm.

Patrick thrusts a few more times and then you’re cumming in sync. You go brain dead and your body locks up in his arms. You’re out of it for a good few minutes, and when you have full awareness again you see Art kneeling in front of you. He holds his dick out for you to gawk at, slowly pumping himself for your amusement.

Patrick hasn’t pulled out of your pussy but he doesn’t fuck you again, he jostles his hips to find the most comfortable position for his softening cock to plug you up.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He huffs and pushes you back down on all fours.

“You need your mouth taken care of too.” Art whines and squeezes his cock around the base, beckoning you closer with a ‘come hither’ gesture.

Said man is tenderly and carefully bundling up your hair in his arm and casting it aside, giving him ample space on your back to pet. He rubs the pink tip of his cock along your jawline, he gives you a fresh coat of lip gloss via his precum as he slaps your plump lips with his cockhead.

“It’s kinda like sucking off a dildo attached to a mirror, don’t think too hard about it.” Tashi tells you, crouching down to suck the small divot in your back.

She sits back in the cheap black hotel chair, shrugging her blouse off and pinching her nipples.

You moan at the first taste of Art’s cock, longer than Patrick’s but with less heft to it. You peer out of the corner of your eye to see if Tashi’s still watching, and you feel silly when you realize that she always is.

“Doing good, baby, keep it up.”

But that’s the thing, they’re all watching you now. It’s not hard to be a pathetic bottom that needs to be coddled and tended to at all times. It’s never difficult to stroke the fire in someone’s ego, you’ve had an easier job of that than anything else.

You saw them all together on the court, you were there for lessons that didn’t work out. Who knows how long ago, it feels like a lifetime, but all it took was one look to recognize what was destined to be yours. You couldn’t give less of a fuck about Tennis in actuality, but you sure do love the players.

They all have hearts in their eyes as they watch you. Art with his dick deep down your throat, his legs are trembling as he tries to stop himself from fucking your face. Patrick, still making a forever home for himself in your guts, his eyes are so dark you have to repress a shiver. And Tashi, knuckles deep in her pussy, finger fucking herself to the pretty little show her baby puts on with their toys.

When the boys are asleep, you’ll bounce on her ribbed strap until you shatter all over again.

Now, Is it cheating to win a game when people don’t realize that you're playing?

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

[norrisjpg]

novacane - ʟɴ⁴

in which, lando is completely and utterly obsessed with his girlfriend, and can't seem to keep his hands off of her - especially when she's in that dress.

contains: NSFW; smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, body worship, p in v, unprotected sex, squirting, cockwarming; tiny bit of fluff at the end.

lando norris x unnamed female character

...

...

lando thought he was actually going to die. there in rome, he was sure of it. they had been together for two years at this point, and don't get him wrong, she always looked good - but something about the air in rome was making him fall in love with her all over again, and he was going feral.

the couple had decided to spend a few days in italy together, first venice, second maranello, and last rome.

venice had been brilliant, spending a few days with max and pietra, exploring the city together, and many other late night activities. maranello had been nothing if not wholesome, that being where his beloved girlfriend's family lived - lando having rekindled his bromance with her dad and older brother, and not to mention seeing his favourite dog again.

"can you help me with my heels, baby?" her voice snapped him out of his trance.

fucking hell.

she had walked out of the bathroom, looking like a divine treat for him to devour. it was a sundress - her sundresses always did unholy things to him - of course, and her tanned skin looked particularly endearing against the flimsy white material.

his mouth hung agape, eyes flitting over her body rapidly. his mouth could have (and almost did) water at the sight of his girlfriend, looking oh-so-innocent with her pretty eyes and glossy lips.

again, lando thought he was actually going to die.

"yeah, come here." lando gestured with his fingers, getting up so she could perch on the edge of the bed.

he got to his knees before her, grabbing her ankle gently and delicately tightened the clasp until it clung to her skin snugly, repeating the same action on her other ankle.

"thankyou, sweetheart." she responded, running her fingers through his hair briefly.

yep, he was definitely going to die.

...

if he thought he was going to die earlier, he was dead now.

she was sat there, fiddling with the necklace he'd bought her a few months ago, blinking at him through her lashes as she spoke about their plans for the rest of the summer break.

he could have actually fall to his knees in the restaurant right there and then - she looked utterly and completely irresistible.

"can we go now, please?" lando pleaded for around the third time.

he had asked her after they had finished his main course, and then after they'd finished their desserts, and now when they were having another drink.

"god, what's gotten into you?" she laughed as she swallowed the remainder of her wine.

"nothing, i just want to go home." he shrugged, trying not to let her onto the fact he was planning every single thing he was going to do to her once that hotel room door was closed.

"okay, weirdo." she shook her head with another laugh, before politely asking for the bill.

technically, it was her turn to pay for dinner - but lando never let her pay anyway. his credit card was being swiped across the card machine before she could even get hers out of her purse.

"let's go, come on."

...

as soon as that hotel door had latched shut behind her, lando turned into some sort of rabid animal with no self control.

she found herself pinned up against the door very quickly, dress bunched up at her hips as he began his assault on her neck.

“god… needed you since i seen you earlier.” lando murmured, hoisting her legs up around his waist.

“yeah?” she nodded, arching her eyebrows as her eyes fluttered shut.

“mhm.” he hummed, his hand shifting to her lower back as she was then moved to her feet. “look so pretty — turn around for me?”

she spun her heel slowly, allowing lando to effortlessly pull on the delicate white bow, the thin straps loosening and falling below her shoulders. his hand trailed back down her arms, pulling the dress down and allowing it to fall to a puddle at their feet.

“so gorgeous.” he whispered, hot breath fanning the back of her shoulder — before his hands whipped her around to face him again.

"you think?" she responded quietly.

"of course, pretty girl." he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, before spinning her round and walking her backwards to the bed - eye contact very, very intense.

a gentle shove rendered her flat on the bed, propped up on her elbows shortly after her back hit the soft mattress. just as he'd done earlier, lando dropped to his knees and now started to remove her heels.

god, she looked divine.

she was now only wearing the prettiest white lace underwear, but lando was trying not to focus on it - due to the fact that he was painfully hard, and that if he looked at her, all of his self-control would fly out of the hotel door (not that she would have minded that.)

a quick toss of the heels behind him made soft thuds in the room, but lando was already softly kissing up from her ankle to her inner thighs, rendering her unable to think about anything else.

"god..." she breathed out, tossing her head back as he skimmed his nose over the delicate fabric of her panties.

a soft chuckle reverberated through her from lando, he was literally laughing into her pussy - how hot could this man get?

"someone's needy." he whispered, lips brushing against the lace once again, resulting in her clenching around nothing.

"shut up." she whined. "just do something, please?"

"as you wish, baby." he mumbled, tugging her underwear down effortlessly and discarding them across the room.

he was like a man starved, denied of watching his girlfriend squirm underneath him for a mere few hours - that seemed to feel like years.

not that she needed any sort of lube, she was soaking wet by the time lando's thumb circled over her clit agonising slowly, but lando felt it necessary still to let a string of his saliva drip down on her aching cunt, spreading it adequately around with his tongue.

she was just about to beg, but he latched his lips onto her before the pleads could leave her lips. the noises made between his lips and hers were disgustingly hot, his fingers slowly beginning to prod at her entrance, teasing her tightness. his tongue drew shapes on her clit, he was spelling his fucking name, and she was seeing stars when a thick middle finger slid into her.

over and over again the same shapes danced over her heat, and lando slowly began to curl his finger to push against her g-spot. an almost pornographic moan left her lips as she felt the pressure of his index finger alongside his middle finger inside of her - whines and whimpers now a constant sound in the room.

they weren't just from her either, when her hips pushed into his face, lando wasn't ashamed to let a low groan out, the vibrations making her back arch up off of the bed - only for her to quickly be pushed back down by a veiny hand.

"fuck.. lando..." she moaned airly, a hand clutching onto his hair for dear life.

the soft bite to her clit was what sent her over the edge and into space. her legs shook around his head, the most lewd moans tumbling loudly from her lips. he pumped his fingers in and out of her and kitten-licked her through her orgasm, allowing her to float on her cloud of ecstasy for a little longer as she spasmed around him.

"you with me, pretty?" he softly spoke, now having moved his hands from her heat to her ribs, gently rubbing his thumbs up and down.

"yeah." she panted, nodding her head. "so fucking good."

he laughed airily, pressing soft kisses from her lower stomach up to her pillowy lips - swollen from how much she'd bitten down on them over the past few minutes.

their kiss was soft and gentle, she could taste herself on his lips, making her grow all-the-more wet again.

"take this off." she murmured into his lips, making a small noise resembling both a laugh and a whimper leave his lips as she tugged at his shirt.

he began to unbutton his shirt, while her hands frantically made their way down to his dress pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. both items of clothing were quickly a puddle on the floor, his boxers swiftly following.

lando's necklace dangled down and rested just below her chin, then sitting comfortably on the centre of her neck as he kissed her again - teeth clashing and tongues pushing against each other for dominance (lando won, obviously.)

the hand that wasn't holding his body up above her, made its way down to his erection, running it up and down her slit to lube it.

breaking the kiss, the look in his eyes asked her the inevitable, and a quick nod followed.

the tip of his cock pressed into her, still stretching her out. you would have thought that after almost three years of very frequent sex, both would get used to the other - but no, every time they felt each other, it was like the first time all over again.

she quite literally fluttered around him, eyes squeezing shut as he bottomed out a few moments later. a low groan escaped his lips, cut short when he realised her eyes were closed.

"hey, eyes open, baby." he whispered, tapping her cheek gently. "want to see the look in your eyes when you fall apart, yeah?"

pretty eyes met his once again as she blinked up at him, some form of a moan leaving her lips as he spoke to her - how could such dirty words come from a man who looked like a fucking angel?

"good girl." he nodded, pressing a small kiss to her nose as he began to slowly thrust in and out.

now, usually, rough sex was lando's thing - but there was something about the way she looked up at him, it made him want to fuck her nice and gentle, slow and deep - so he did.

his strokes were fucking delicious, taming the fire in her lower belly in just the right way - a way that was building the indescribably incredible knot thick and slow. something was different, it was overwhelmingly good - the softest yet neediest moans tumbling from her lips at an almost alarming rate.

maybe every other deep thrust, she'd clench around him, even more blood rushing to his throbbing cock - he wasn't really sure if it was her that was pulsing around him or it was himself, but either way, it felt fucking good.

his lips made their way to her boobs subconsciously, feeling as if he'd neglected them. swirling his tongue around one hard nipple, he slid two fingers inside of her mouth to wet his fingers - before returning them to the nub his mouth wasn't paying delicate attention to, pinching and pressing the pads of his fingers to them.

sensitive from her previous high, the next one was encroaching quickly, warmth spreading to her inner thighs and lower tummy. he could immediately tell she was close. there were tell-tale signs - loud moans would turn to quiet, short, sharp whimpers, she'd become grabby with her hands - needing something to clutch onto as she fell into the abyss of ecstasy - simultaneously clenching around him so tightly that sometimes she'd accidentally restrict his movement - and all were currently taking place.

"go on, pretty girl, cum for me."

she was so gone.

lando's back suffered as her nails scratched into it, leaving red lines painted across the muscles - his trainers wouldn't ask any questions, it's not as if they hadn't seen worse marks before anyway.

she tried so so hard to keep her eyes open, but it was just too hard. her eyes fluttered closed as her mouth hung agape, eyebrows arched as her nose scrunched up a little - lando wanted the image etched onto his retinas.

she gushed all over him, pretty liquid squirting from her cunt, painting his abdomen shiny as the juices splattered on him.

she thought she was going to die, and she would happily like this.

that was actually all it took for him. hot ropes of cum spilled deep into her, stuffed up against her cervix as he tried his hardest to keep thrusting into her - his hips stuttering as he started to get a little overstimulated.

slowly but surely, the two came down from their mind-blowing highs, lando rolling them over so she was laid on top of him, her walls still unconsciously clenching and fluttering around him.

"you good, baby?" he whispered, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

"think so, tired now." she smiled wearily, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, before letting her head roll down into the crook of his neck.

"want to sleep or clean up?" lando asked softly, running his fingers through her hair.

"sleep, definitely."

[gallusrostromegalus]

A Miracle In The Night

Sometimes, you get an idea for a lightly fucked up short story. TW: Death, mild gore, Plot Twist :)

---

She travels through the night And listens

Some might call her home dark and cold and akin to the lowest levels of hell, But their heaven burns her eyes and skin and her very breath To her, The Endless Night is Paradise

The whole world was like this once, in the very beginning The Divine Darkness which contains the potential for every tragedy and miracle and everything in between, and she is blessed  to travel through the gardens of creation.

The Night created everything, even God, who lives in the burning world and blesses the sinless beings of the night with the very force of life.

But not even Paradise is free of suffering.

It should be this way, of course- nothing would ever happen otherwise. Everything that happens is a miracle. It’s just a question of who the Miracle is for.

There will be a Miracle tonight. She can feel it- the tension is electric across her skin, gut tightening, every sense on edge.

Starvation leads to such peculiar sensitivity.

She’s on the verge of death-  It should be this way, otherwise nothing could be alive. But she’s closer to the edge than usual.

It’s been so long since she felt the Burning Love of God within her. The delicious taste of good fortune in the night Chasing ecstasy with a racing heart and feeling her body fly The heat in her belly, seeping out through her until it filled her with the Divine Warmth of God’s Love.

It’s been so, so long since she’s eaten.

It’s been uneasy- the breathing of the world has been unsteady of late- too early and too late, out of time like it has become ill and all things suffer for it. There is nothing to partake of in her usual hunting grounds, so she has traveled far, far from home, into a brighter and hotter part of the night.

Here, the protective wall between her and the burning world exists only in scattered fragments, and strange and monstrous things traverse the thin veil between their worlds.

Here, the eternal night has been invaded by noxious, screaming beasts from the burning world above.  They race with their bodies straddling the barrier between their worlds, far faster than anything has the right to fly, howling with a deafening voice that can be heard for hundreds of miles.

It’s a problem because she cannot hear the songs of her prey.

Everything sings, if one will listen. The high, chiming pings of the smallest stars flashing with bioluminescence around her. The long, low songs of the fire-breathers, who hunt here in the abyss for one of her oldest brothers, but return to the barrier and briefly cross it to breathe before they return. Even the earth sings- the moan and crack of her body as she shifts her weight, the almost invisible inhale and exhale of her seasons. She even builds great musical instruments of ash and smoke and an even hotter burning than the world above, singing the tale of the first days of creation in honor of the endless night.

But the behemoths do not sing.

They scream and scream and scream and their piss reeks of vile poison and overexertion. Almost like the way an injured animal can put on a miraculous turn of speed to escape pursuit. What might be pursuing such behemoths is an awful but intriguing consideration. Perhaps the behemoths are the little darting beings of the burning world, and the thing they flee the equivalent of herself. She’s seen it before, when the moon is high and she travels up to the barrier, and the little dancing bodies leap across the barrier to avoid her.

To that end, she can only wish her counterpart good hunting- both in the sympathy between one apex predator and another, and the hope that maybe it will get better at catching the behemoths before they come into her world.

Still, Where there is disturbance, There is also opportunity.

There are rumors from those that live closer to the barrier that the behemoths piss poison but shit out bounties- the wastes of these things are food direct from the burning world, where God lives, and that waste is full of The Divine Warmth of Life. The direct waste is devoured by the smallest and fastest things first, but when they are clustered at their feast, they are easier for the larger beings to partake in, and so too larger things than they until even her most beautiful borderland sister with the belly pale as the moon is now as round as it, fat with the blessing of pups.

So she has ventured as close as she dares to the world of her sisters in hopes of finding the rumored prey so full of the Burning Love of God.

She needs it. She can’t live without it.

A Miracle will happen tonight.

Whether for her or the crawling lives of the deepest night remains to be seen.

She follows the terrible screaming song of the behemoth in silence and prays for a miracle. She does not sing praise when she prays. She preys when she prays.

The highest reverence to The Divine Night is to Listen. To travel in silence, and take in all the songs of The Night.

So she makes herself silent and listens and listens and listens to the screaming song, hoping that somewhere in the noise, she can hear the soft voice of God.

This time God answers with a voice like thunder.

It really is like being too close to a lightning strike, the way the noise viscerally passes through her and lights up every nerve, teeth gritting and body thrashing as she feels the voice of God the same way she feels the body of a lover against her own.

The scream of the behemoth changes. It sputters, then pitches wildly, low visceral injury and high keening pain, like the fire-breathers when they try to hunt the largest of her brothers and become prey themselves.

Oh, what a beautiful song to something like her.

She aches, weak and tired, but hope and joy surge through her and she forces herself to move at speed, even for all the energy it takes, because perhaps the miracle is for her tonight- 

She flies as fast as she can towards the dying behemoth, as does every brother and sister and ancestor and descendant, all as desperate to feast upon God’s Love as she- all of them race forward but then up, and up and up up to where the Behemoth is sinking into their world- It has run upon a fragment of the protective barrier hard enough to tear it's side and break it's back. There is the terrible acrid scent of it’s noxious  piss and if she were not on the verge of starvation it might be enough to put her off the feast.  

But she flies on and up- even weak with hunger she is one of the largest and fastest of her family when she needs to be, so she is the first to smell other strange things from the behemoth- burning flavors that sting her nose and mouth, as well as sweet things that confuse intrigue, and-

Oh. Oh, GOD!

It’s blood but nothing like any blood she’s tasted before- it’s actually HOT in the night, burning with the warmth of the other world even this far from it’s origin, rich and fatty and metallic like the flesh of a fallen fire-breather but even more so.  She spreads her wings and sways her hips and spine to fly as fast as she can, the way a lover pursues her- full of nothing but adoration and a desire to make their bodies as one.

Then in a beam of moonlight, she sees the first of the bodies from the burning world.

The frenzy at the behemoth is a feast for the ages, from the exultant chorus above, and the fact that even with every member of her family for a hundred miles around at the feast, there are so many bodies to feast upon that a body is falling past the festivities to her, uneaten and whole.

What a strange and beautiful body it is.

She pauses, circling it even as her mouth and gut ache for it, studying the being from the burning world.

It’s hot, hotter than any body she’s ever felt before, even though it is very definitely dead, as unsuited to breathe the night as she is to breathe fire. Its wings are long and twist strangely, like the tentacles of her brothers that are hunted by the fire-breathers. It’s awkwardly shaped, like the crawling five-winged creatures of the mud, but not quite.  There is an almost unsettling familiarity to its symmetry.

The fire-breathers say they used to live in the burning world, but returned to the night, and that all the beasts of the burning world had too once come from the night. It had sounded absurd, but looking upon the form of this being now, she wondered.

Well. Only the one thing to do, really.

Gently, she approaches the being, opens her mouth to embrace it, and welcomes it home to the night.

There is no love like the love the predator feels for its prey.  It is reverence made flesh- O holy being, oh virtue to pursue and make one’s own.It is the flesh made reverent- Please, little being of the burning world, let her love you as she loves her own children, the weight of your body deep within her own. 

There is no gratitude like the gratitude a predator feels for its prey. She owes you her life tonight, little being of the burning world. She lives from the mercy of your body alone. It is already a kindness she can never repay to live by your generosity, but oh, you made it so sweet-  Your blood intoxicates her senses, your body thrillingly warm- as agonizing as the fire of the burning world is to breathe in, it’s just as wonderful to swallow.

You are so sweet, so sweet, she will remember this favor forever.

There is no miracle like the divine connection between predator and prey. Oh child of the burning world, you who brings the Warmth of God into The Endless Night, You burning being of God’s Love. She is blessed by you, messenger of God.  Through you she receives the miracle of life.

Welcome, little burning being Welcome home to the night from whence you came Welcome inside her deepest self, and receive her hospitality.

She swallows the little burning being up with adoration, feeling it settle within her. Relief, ecstasy and satisfaction swirl but are interrupted by the appearance of another body. And another And another And another

The Behemoth itself falls, it’s body still curiously dynamic even torn in half- one end dives for the bottom of the night with somewhat alarming speed, where the other glides along to the depths on an angled path, the distant motion still visible with the bioluminescence it stirs up along it’s path. It is massive beyond anything she's seen before, more like a piece of geography than a living organism.

And all along its wake, hundreds of bodies spill forth from inside.

What a strange miracle this is. But she’s not one to refuse God’s Love. And if the beings of the burning world travel in huge schools with their behemoth, the peculiar notion that the little being within her might be lonely occurs to her. …Wow, she’s REALLY drunk.

Still, she eats three more of the burning beings before her guts are almost bursting with fullness, a bizarre sensation she’d only heard about from those who had been fortunate enough to feast on the fallen body of a fire-breather and had to leave the excess to the crawling beings of the bottom. So too, does she watch more bodies descend deep into the night as she returns to her world of darkness and song, the behemoth’s terrible screams now silent with rest, and the choir of the night rejoicing in this miracle.

---

Two miles above the revelry of God’s Favorite Greenland Shark, the survivors of the Titanic prayed into the endless night for a miracle, unaware it had already been granted.

[blackdykegirlblogger]

thinking abt vi and abby taking turns with u while you can do nothing but take it ^_^

abby would be situated behind you, one beefy arm wrapped firmly around your midsection as her other hand plays with your nipples, twisting and rolling the sensitive buds around and around. that would be all well and good normally, but vi also happened to be right between the apex of your thighs, spitting on your clit as two of her fingers hit all the rights inside your drooling pussy.

it wasn't like you were planning on fucking both of your extremely hot roommates tonight, but that new strain you copped from that shady freshman plug in your chem class had you acting a complete and utter fool. weed never failed to make you horny, but it was like they could smell your arousal, the subtle rubbing of your thighs as you all watched netflix on the couch maybe not as subtle as you expected.

one thing led to another thing that led to another thing that led to you on the brink of cumming on vi's tongue for the third time in a row, feeling like you were floating outside your body as your eyes crossed. your half-smoked blunt lays forgotten on the side table, with you already being too dazed and confused to even finish it. you could've sworn you weren't usually this much of a lightweight.

"you should feel how loose she is. swear you could slide a whole bottle 'n her." the vibrations from vi's words fluttering against you felt unfortunately divine, and if you were actually lucid, you would've protested the vulgar comment, kicked her or demanded she stop touching you. but instead, your cunt greedily agreed with the notion, pulsing around her digits as another river of creamy arousal oozed out of you. ever the extrovert, chatting came like a second nature to vi, even during times like this.

you barely registered abby's hand leaving your chest as it made its way to your neck, and the tight squeeze forced out a moan you didn't know you were holding. "don't take too long down there, i want my turn eventually". she was torturing you now, pressing down on your windpipe just enough for tears to approach your waterline. you feebly began to squirm, the fear of actually fucking dying and the painful arousal making it impossible to stay put.

right as you felt your vision start to fade to black, abby released her militant grip, leaving you to sputter out a few much-needed gasps of air as your back arched. she reached for the same blunt that got you in such a state to begin with, swiftly lighting it before gripping your jaw and bringing it to your lips.

you tried to shake your head the best you could, tried to make it clear that you just couldn't take anymore. but your wordless plea fell on deaf ears as you found yourself taking a deep inhale. she said....something to you, but her voice sounded so far away and your head felt so empty.

"relax, pretty. ok? let us make you feel good."

[r3starttt]

GET IT HOT

CW: car sex. use of strap. fingering. sub! ellie. good girl, babe.

Traffic had been beyond horrifying today. You've had a long exhausting day, and you've prayed to any divinity to let you get home quick, to just cuddle and have a nice night with your girlfriend. Ellie begged for the same thing after having a tough day with clients at her job and then being all day burning due the sun and traffic, taking ages to pick you up and then ages to get back home.

She read your face the moment you got in the car, so you've got the privilege to get some sleep until you two arrived home. Which was for nothing because she had to wake you up before she even got the two of you out for traffic. She got bored and anxious and felt like exploding if she didn't hear you yapping about anything.

Eventually traffic faded, but there was still a long path before you even got near home. And your yapping didn't help at all, she was mad.

You could tell by how her hands ran through her hair, almost ripping it off. By how her fingers would grip the steering wheel, by how she would groan or mumble slurs to all those stupid humans driving like shit. She was hot, you were hot.

So, after overthinking it, you decided to wait till you got home. Ellie had a hard day too, and it wouldn't be any fair to make her put more effort for today, you could wait.

"Fuck" she groaned, throwing her hands to the air, not so accidentally slapping the flesh of your thighs. "What?" You whispered, trying to distract yourself from losing it.

"These fucking- everyone's fucking stupid- look!" Her grip tightened, making you squirm underneath her. There were some cars making a mess, how the fuck did these people got their license?

"Shit, m' sorry" the tone of her voice lowered, harshly moving her hand away. You furrowed your brows, letting out a small 'huh?'

"I was ripping your leg apart" she chuckled. Your hand traveled to hers, moving her to where it was just some seconds ago, making sure it'll keep in place. "Nothing you haven't done before, no worries"

"Seriously?" You rolled your eyes "what?" She laughed at you, slacing a cautionary glaze at you and then shifting her eyes back to the road. "Though you've had a hard day?" You shrugged "same for you"

She clicked her tongue "shut up" your fingers grabbed her hand, moving it closer and deeper to your inner thighs. You crossed your legs, feeling your panties stupidly wet.

"You sure?" She replied, cocky as her usual temper. Suddenly, all the anger she had from all day faded. "How's that?" Her fingers moved to the middle of your cunt, rubbing circles above your clothed clit. You whined 'good'.

"Yeah?" You nodded "If I slid my fingers like this, how's that feel?" Her middle finger slid over your arousal, deeping it just enough to make you clench around nothing. "Good, feels good"

"Come here" the red light illuminated your face. Your body, almost as a reflex, leaned towards her. Her lips pressed against yours, Ellie could not be craving you more.

"How're you this wet already?" She mocked "what have you been thinking-" You interrupted her, giving her one last kiss before the light turned green.

"Lean back" so you did, opening your legs wide and nice for her. The palm of her fingers moving your panties aside, letting her digit dance in between your cunt. It only lasted some seconds before she introduced her fingers inside you, smiling at how you clenched at her feeling.

You kept on bucking your hips closer to her hand if even possible, eliciting that sheepish smile, full of adoration. Fuck she couldn't have any better view.

The cold air hitting your bare legs, her fingers curling so deliciously inside you. The wetness and obscene sounds filling the silence between both, some groans and heavily sighs coming out of her too. You felt your stomach clenching at it.

She couldn't do much, and it was more than frustrating. To see how your hands gripped on anything you had near, how you tried to push her away whenever it got a little bit too much. See your legs closing, feel how damp her hand was getting. She couldn't wait.

So she pulled over. "Come on, sit on my lap" her hand pulled off your cunt, almost too abruptly. You whined at it, still doing as she asked you to. "Yeah, good girl"

"Look at you" she chuckled "kiss" your lips pressed on hers in such a messy desperate kiss, feeling your tongue dancing against hers, the drool escaping your mouth and to your chin.

"Pull it out" your hands grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her closer until she didn't let you "I know you feel it, pull it out"

You wanted to ask, stupid, knowing you already had the answer. She was always so considerating, wasn't she?

Your nails dragged along the hem of her t shirt, rolling it up right before her chest. You got rid of her belt, letting out the strap.

"Sink on it" your knees moved up hers, finding a better position. Just as the tip touched your arousal you let out a humiliating whimper, already so desperate for her. "Feels good huh?" She mocked.

"Now sink all the way down" she filled you just right. Without realizing you were already clenching around it, too focused on resting your weight on her, pressing your hands over her shoulders. You looked at her eyes, searching for a hint of pleasure coming out her. Ellie simply replied with a 'mhm'.

"Good girl, take your time, babe." you could hear how wet you were, moving up and down her lap. Her nose brushed your neck, holding your lower back, guiding you as you ride her.

Once you got yourself comfortable you started to speed your movements, hearing your arousal becoming more wet at your every move. Ellie kept on letting out repetitive pleads. The friction on her clit started to her way too overwhelming.

She pulled your shirt off, immediately meeting your nipples with her mouth, dancing her tongue on each of them. Her hips started to buck into you, making the friction for both stupidly perfect.

You felt your cunt clenching, a contraction on your whole body, all accompanied by her pretty whines, her tongue making a mess on your breasts and her drool covering your nipples.

"Cum for me babe" you asked her, harshly grabbing her pretty face, already messy, and pressing your lips against hers, feeling your inner thighs get covered by your juices. "Can't- Can't, fuck-"

Her mouth opened very slightly, whining at your mouth. Fuck she was so pretty. Her fingers gripped tightly at the fat of your hips, letting the pleasure invade both your bodies.

That until she caught her breath, letting out a sheepishly laugh per usual, shushed by your lips on her temple. "Love you" "love you too"

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

HORNY PRIEST JOHN PRICE

warnings: breeding kink, sacrilege (?)

john joined the church after leaving the military, though he never spoke much about what led him there. some men left war and found peace in quiet towns, in family, in distance. john, meanwhile, found himself in the shadow of the cross, searching for something he couldn't name.

he knelt, prayed, studied scripture— not because he'd had a sudden divine vision, but because he’d needed something to tether himself to.

he's never been one to talk about faith in absolutes. the young priests, fresh out of seminary, speak with a certainty that makes him envious. they talk of god’s mercy like it’s a thing they’ve held in their hands, like they’ve never doubted it for a second.

john doesn’t have that luxury. his hands have held a rifle, pressed down on wounds, ended lives.

what right does he have to stand in the confessional and tell a man his sins are forgiven when his own are still heavy in his chest?

he doesn’t let it show. not when he stands before his congregation, not when he delivers the homily, and not even when he listens to the confessions of those who kneel before him.

the words come easy. “god is love. god is mercy.” he says them with the confidence of a man who believes them. perhaps if he says them enough, one day it'll drive home.

he's decently well-respected in his parish. john speaks in measured tones, and listens with the kind of patience that makes people trust him. he’s rarely if ever unkind, never raising his voice even when the children at sunday school test his patience or when the older priests debate doctrine with a stubbornness he doesn’t bother entertaining.

the congregation admires him for it.

he keeps a well-worn rosary in his pocket, fingers brushing over the beads when he’s deep in thought. it’s an old habit, one he never lost even when he stopped saying the prayers as often as he should. late at night, when he can’t sleep, he walks the empty church, the only light coming from the red glow of the tabernacle lamp.

he runs his fingers over the smooth wood of the pews, listens to the creak of the floorboards beneath his boots, and exhales smoke into the dim air. it feels like a kind of penance, staying here long after everyone else has gone, keeping watch over something he’s still not sure he belongs to.

the first time you meet, it’s in the courtyard after sunday mass.

you’re new to the church. new to the neighborhood. moved in just a month ago, so he’s heard. he hadn't taken much notice at first— he rarely does. parishioners come and go, faces blending into one another over time.

but then he sees you. all wide eyes and bright smiles, the late-morning sun catching the warmth in your hair, laugh spilling out like a song. you shake hands with mrs. calloway, nod attentively as she chatters on about her garden, and there’s something about the way you tilt your head, the way your lips part in quiet amusement, that makes something ugly and raw twist in his gut.

john shouldn’t be looking. he knows he shouldn’t be looking.

and yet.

you catch sight of him, and your smile brightens, something open and eager in your face as you step forward. “father price.”

your voice is softer than he expects. sweeter. a fact not good for his health.

he nods. “you’ve settled in well, i see.”

“i have. everyone’s been so kind.” your hands clasp in front of you, fingers tangling. “i wanted to introduce myself properly. i should have done it sooner, but-” you shake your head, sheepish. “i guess i was nervous.”

nervous? of who— him?

he watches the way you glance down, the way your teeth catch the plump of your lower lip, the slight shift of your weight from foot to foot, and something slow and molten pools in his stomach.

and then, unbidden—

i want to fuck her mouth.

the thought slams into him. his fingers curl, blunt nails pressing into his palm. john's throat tightens, heat crawling up the back of his neck, shame dragging its claws down his spine.

he schools his expression, keeps his voice level. “there’s nothing to be nervous about.” a beat. his gaze lingers on your lips a second too long. “i hope you find what you’re looking for here.”

your eyes meets his then. for a moment, he swears you see it. the crack in his composure, the way his restraint stretches thin around you like fraying rope.

but then you just smile again— so fucking gentle— and bid him a polite goodbye before slipping back into the crowd.

he exhales, tries to control his breathing, before turning on his heel and heading inside.

it doesn’t get better after that.

oh no. in fact, it only gets worse.

because you linger. you stay. you join the congregation, sit near the front every sunday, your hands folded neatly in your lap, your lips parted slightly in quiet reverence as you listen to the sermon. you bite your lip when you concentrate, tuck your hair behind your ear absentmindedly, shift in your seat just enough to make his mind wander places it has absolutely no right to go.

and it haunts him.

creeps into his thoughts when he thinks he's already run far away from it. slips into his head when he least expects it. a slow, insidious thing, winding around his ribs, sinking its teeth into the softest parts of him.

john finds himself getting lost in his imaginations more and more as the weeks pass by. it starts with something simple. something small.

you, in his kitchen.

the space is yours as much as it is his now— he hardly steps foot in it unless you usher him in, your hands on his arms, guiding him to sit, to rest. the scent of warm bread and roasted meat fills the house, seeping into the wooden beams, the stone walls. the windows are cracked open just enough to let the breeze in, carrying with it the scent of the fields, the distant bells of the church.

you hum as you work, a quiet little tune under your breath, flour dusting your fingers, smudging along the curve of your cheek. you’re barefoot, the hem of your dress skimming your ankles, your apron tied neatly at the back. domestic. wifely. His.

"you’re spoiling me, love."

you laugh, glancing over your shoulder at him where he sits at the table, his elbows braced against the wood, his chin resting on his hand. john hasn’t even touched the sermon notes laid out before him, hasn’t even opened the book he’d planned to read. no, his attention has been on you— watching you move, watching the light catch on your hair, watching the way you fit so perfectly in his home.

"you work too hard," you murmur, turning back to the stove. "someone has to take care of you."

the words sink into him, low and warm, wrapping around something deep in his chest.

you do take care of him.

you set a plate before him, still warm from your hands, and press a kiss to the top of his head, your lips soft against his hair.

you fold his robes neatly after they’ve dried in the sun, pressing your hands over the fabric like a prayer. you pluck a stray thread from his collar before mass, your fingers deft and careful, your brow furrowing in quiet concentration.

you brush his hair back from his forehead when he sits too long at his desk, rubbing slow circles at his temple, your fingers easing away the weight of his work.

and in the evenings, after the dishes have been washed and the fire burns low, you climb into his lap with a soft sigh, tucking yourself against his chest.

"long day?" you ask, your fingers smoothing over the front of his shirt.

"mm." john presses a kiss to your hair, lets his hands settle at your waist, palms warm through the thin fabric of your nightdress. "better now."

and it is better, with you here, with your warmth seeping into his, your breath brushing his throat.

he wants all of it. the soft, easy domesticity. the routine of waking to you curled beside him, of pressing sleepy kisses to your bare shoulder before dragging himself out of bed. of watching you move through his home with the comfort of a woman who belongs there.

and, god help him—

john wants to fuck you too.

until you leaked him, until his seed dripped down your thighs, making a mess of soft, perfect skin. wants to bend you over his desk, press your face into the worn wood, break you open on his cock until you sobbed for him, begged him to fill you. he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

he wants to whisper filth into your ear, his breath hot— gonna fill you up, love. gonna fuck you so full of me you’ll be dripping for days. you want that, don’t you? want me to breed you like the needy little thing you are?

he wants to press his fingers into your mouth, make you suck them clean before shoving them between your legs, fucking them into the soft clutch of your pussy until you cried for him.

and when he finally sinks his swollen cock inside you— he’d make you feel it.

john wants to fuck you raw, grind his hips against yours, keep you pinned beneath his weight, stuffed full of his cock. he’d press a hand to your belly, feel himself inside you, make you watch as you take a cock too big for you.

and when he’d spill inside you he wouldn't stop. oh no— he’d fuck it deeper, press his fingers to your swollen clit, make you come with him, make your body take every last drop of his seed.

because he wouldn't just fill you. he’d breed you. over and over, until you couldn't keep yourself up, too boneless to thrust back into him, too full to take any more.

but he was a man of god.

and men of god did not shove their sweet, willing parishioners over their desks, did not drag their teeth down soft skin, did not slap needy little cunts until they were wet and dripping.

they did not fuck desperate little things in church pews, in quiet confessionals, did not fist their hands in soft hair and shove pretty mouths onto their cocks, did not whisper filth between gasped-out prayers.

they did not spend their nights with their heads buried between trembling thighs, devouring the taste of sin, holding squirming bodies still as they licked deep, sucked hard, forced sweet, innocent things to come against their tongues.

they did not rut into them like beasts, gripping soft wrists, pinning them down, owning them with every brutal thrust. they did not press their hands to swollen bellies, fill their women over and over until their bodies were wrecked, too full of come to take another drop.

men of god did not fuck.

but god forgive him, he would.

all those thoughts come to this moment, this night—

john finds himself alone under the dim glow of candlelight, sitting on the pews, head tilted to the cross.

his breathing is uneven, ragged in the dim hush of the empty church. each inhale scrapes against his ribs, sharp and burning, like penance for the filth curdling in his mind. his hands tremble as they move beneath his robes, fingers fumbling at the buckle of his belt. the metal clinks, far too loud in the sacred silence, but he doesn’t stop.

can’t.

his breathing is uneven, ragged in the dim hush of the empty church. each inhale feels like it scrapes against his ribs, sharp and burning, as though the very air is punishing him for the thoughts festering in his mind. his hands tremble as they move beneath his robes, fingers fumbling at the buckle of his belt. the metal clinks softly in the quiet, a sound far too loud in the sanctity of this space.

the leather gives way, and his cassock feels suffocating now, the fabric too heavy against skin flushed with heat. his fingers slip lower, dragging the waistband of his pants down his hips with shaky, desperate movements until he’s free— finally free— from the painful confines of his underwear.

his cock springs forward, already hard in his hand, flushed dark at the tip, the skin tight and aching. a bead of precum glistens there, catching in the flicker of candlelight like something obscene in the house of god. he wraps his hand around the base, his grip firm but not enough to ease the pressure coiled in his gut. the heat of his palm sends a shudder rolling down his spine, breath hitching as his thumb swipes over the sensitive head, smearing the slick wetness down the length.

his cock is long, veins pulsing along the shaft, the kind of thick that demands attention. his foreskin still covers the swollen head, slick with the evidence of his own arousal, precum smearing against the soft skin of his lower stomach. he hisses through his teeth as he wraps his hand around the base, fingers barely closing around the girth, feeling the steady throb of blood pulsing beneath his grip.

his balls hang full and tight, pulled close with need, the skin sensitive to the faintest brush of fabric. every movement is torment, the soft rub of his cassock against his bare thighs sending a shudder through him, making his hips jerk forward, seeking relief.

he strokes himself slowly, dragging his foreskin back to expose the flushed, leaking head, then rolling it forward again, savoring the sensitivity. his thumb swipes through the slick wetness pooling at the tip, smearing it down the length, adding just enough glide to make his fist slip easier over his cock.

his grip tightens, dragging the pleasure out like a prayer he’s too ashamed to speak aloud. the church is silent around him, the air thick with the scent of burning wax and old stone, but all he can think about is you.

on your knees before him.

john sees it so clearly, feels it like it’s already happened. the way you’d sink down, your eyes looking up at him through thick lashes, expectant. your soft lips parted just enough for your tongue to wet them before stretching around his cock. the thought makes his stomach clench, his fingers twitching as he strokes himself tighter, his foreskin gliding over the swollen head before he pulls it back again.

you wouldn’t be able to take all of him at once. he knows that much. He’s too thick, too long— your jaw would ache just trying, your tongue pressing firm against the heavy weight of him, struggling to make space. the first inch would be easy, maybe even the second. but when he pushes deeper, when his tip nudges the back of your throat and you gag, just a little, he knows he’d lose whatever control he has left.

he swears he can see it— your fingers curling against his thighs, the little choked noise you’d make when he holds you there, when his cock throbs against your tongue. your throat would flutter, swallowing around him, trying to adjust to the stretch. and oh, god, the way your lips would look wrapped around him, swollen with abuse and slick with spit and precum. john nearly loses himself at the image alone.

his hips jerk forward into his own grip, chasing the fantasy, breath coming through the vaulted ceilings of the church. he’d guide you through it, hand buried in your hair, tilting your head just the way he likes. gentle, at first. Letting you set the pace. But then when you get too comfortable, when you start to tease, pulling back just to trail soft kisses along his length— he’d snap.

he’d pull you down, bury himself deep in the hot sleeve of your mouth until your throat clenched around him and you whimpered against his balls. his other hand would cup your jaw, feeling the bulge of himself pressing against your cheek, watching as tears bead at the corners of your eyes, shuddering from the effort of taking him.

he wonders if you’d try to pull away, fingers gripping his thighs in a silent plea. would you struggle? would you whine? would you let him break you like this?

john groans, his grip tightening almost painfully. he pumps himself faster now, the obscene slap of skin against skin filling the empty church. his balls are drawn tight, aching with the need to spill, and in his mind, he’s not coming into his own palm.

he’s coming down your throat.

you’d swallow, wouldn’t you? just for him. he can see it— his cum thick on your tongue, your lips parting to show him before you close your mouth and swallow it down. maybe a little would escape, dripping down your chin, and he’d swipe his thumb through it, pressing it back to your lips.

“messy thing,” he’d murmur. “but you took it so well.”

the thought sends him over the edge.

his hips stutter, cock jerking in his grip as his orgasm crashes over him, hot and sudden. cum spills over his knuckles, , dripping onto the cold stone beneath him. his breath comes in harsh, broken gasps, his thighs trembling as he rides out the aftershocks, his vision hazy with the force of his release.

and when it’s over— when he finally stills, his body spent, his mind heavy with guilt— he drags his gaze upward.

The cross looms above him, watching.

if this is damnation, he’ll sin again.

[hellisharchive]

The Most Divine

➤ Drabbles of how Lucifer and Adam would fight over gender neutral reader!

➤ 18+, NSFW

♡...... LUCIFER would take notice of you immediately in the Hotel, from your voice to your body to your eyes, you were beautiful in every sense of the word. He treated you like royalty, like you were the best thing he could have found ever in all his billions of years of existence. He never made any moves on you though, the mental scars from Lillith leaving him still fresh in his mind and heart. You two were both really good friends though and he wouldn't trade that for the world.

♡...... ADAM would take notice of you during your first year in Hell as you were out during extermination day. He hates sinners with his very being due to a certain fallen angel, but something about you enamored him. He managed to find you alone and decides to take his chance. He hit on you and he ended up throughly fucking you in exchange for being spared this year.

♡...... LUCIFER makes sure you're ok after extermination day, you tell him that you ran into Adam and that he spared you, but not the true reason why. It made Lucifer incredibly angry as he knew you were lying, but played it off as he didn't want to be too overbearing and controlling. He was just concerned for you as Adam wasn't the best guy, regardless if he spared you or not

♡...... ADAM decides to watch you from heaven, keeping it a secret from Lute as she would surely scold him and never let him live another day without her disproving self. But seeing you talk and laugh with Lucifer made his blood boil. How dare you move onto that bastard after you just got fucked by the original dick? He didn't expect his attraction to you grow this bad, but it every passing moment when he didn't have important shit do, he watched you and Lucifer be all buddy-buddy.

♡...... LUCIFER would finally confront you about Adam, feeling jealous that he would be so much better in bed than that man. He knew he would treat you right. He watched as you stared up at the sky, knowing you were missing that angel for some odd reason. You admitted it right away, the guilt eating away so badly it was hard to contain. You did miss him despite him really being a terrible person, you did miss him. He shushed you and told you it was ok and that he wasn't mad, he was just concerned if he hurt you in anyway.

♡...... ADAM would reach his breaking point when he sees Lucifer tllt your chin up and say that he would always be there for you. Always make you feel better and always make you feel loved. He couldn't take it. Watching the scene play out with a hug, you two parted ways. Watching and waiting until Heaven's mistake was alone, the first man opened up a portal to Lucifer lounging on his couch on his phone when he looked up, not surprised at the sight before him.

♡...... "Well if it isn't the first man. Been a while since Eden? How've been? Fucking my people you swore to kill every year?"

♡...... "Shut the hell up! You stole Lillith from me. You stole Eve from me. You will NOT steal them from me!"

♡...... LUCIFER stood up then, despite his shorter stature, he walked right up to Adam with a smirk. He wasn't going to back down. He wasn't scared of this asshole. Even if he was scared to let you in, he still loved you very much and didn't want you wasting your time here in Hell with this man.

♡...... ADAM simply looked down at him, letting his anger be very known to the fallen angel. The key word is fallen. He was a traitor to everything good, and Adam would show you everything good and more if you let him instead of Lucifer.

♡...... "You think they were screaming your name? Last night, we were going so hard they cummed multiple times on my face just from my tounge" It was a lie, you both never had any sex at all, but he wanted Adam to feel intimated.

♡...... "That's a fucking lie. I've been watching them and you laugh and joke but never fuck. At least I actually fucked them unlike your coward ass. How's Lillith by the way? She really seems to love being with you, prick"

♡...... LUCIFER was going to quip back as the snide about his ex-wife especially upset him, but the door opened and you walked in sleepily and asked what was going on while rubbing your eye. Every one of you froze as the situation was becoming apparent to you as you woke up. He watched as you started to panic, knowing that this situation got too out of hand. You rushed up and demanded what was going on in a half sleep state. He was too angry to fully appreciate how adorable you were like that.

♡...... ADAM didn't feel threatened by your prescence at all, in fact, this was going to work in his favor. Smirking, he sauntered up behind your smaller form and wrapped his hands around your shoulders, leaning down and asking in a soft voice if Lucifer ever fucked you. You said no and shook your head. He could tell by the fact that you were shaking that you were very anxious yet thrilled at what was happening. He knew you liked Lucifer, he was just too much of a pussy to take what he wants. It's ok though, more for him.

♡...... LUCIFER hated how Adam defaulted to sex instead of what a real relationship is and its far more than lust. It was always being there for them, helping them, ensuring they were safe and loved. Not someone who fucked them and stalked them. But the ruler of Hell would play his game. Walking closer to your caged in self, he got right up in front of your face with a certain type of smirk you've never seen him wear before. However, his attention was turned above your head to Adam as the taller angel rested his head on top of yours.

♡...... "What's big shot doing now huh?"

♡...... "How about this? We both fuck them at the same time and see which one of us they like better"

♡...... "Deal"

[uchihaharlot]

Oooh! Thirsty requests? Don’t mind if I do 🤭

I love the Uchiha men! (Duh) So, what is their favorite sex position that really does it for them, really gets them going and busting the fastest and hardest? 👀💥

Ok what the fuck, this is hawt and it took me mere seconds to formulate exactly which positions the boys instinctively bust.

NSFW; afab; holy fuck this is hot and I haven’t even drafted it 🚨:

Madara: Riding him for the first time.

• This man’s sole purpose is to spread his seed like peanut butter, preferably within his wife’s spongey wet cunt.

• Top/Bottom is never an option for debate, she’s either taken by surprise bent over something forward or underneath him. Deliciously tormented with his rough and abrasive thrusts. Madara does not allow such luxury in the way of her desires. Even if she is endlessly pleased, something is missing.

• If his wife manages, and it’s a risk. To get on top of him…Madara won’t even know how to cope with the shift in power. He is so unpredictable as it is, the urge to maneuver her submissive to him is strong, but falters.

• Seeing her enjoy him this way, like actually enjoy it more than usual…is provocative and endearing. Though sex is usually overstimulating with him — copious amounts of hours in bed laid to the mating press. She had back sores once, but those were always soothed. He’s not a complete hooligan.

• But he is a heathen, so in this regard Madara definitely takes the opportunity to actually acknowledge her body’s many appealing angles. Differences on her soft supple skin are highlighted in the dimly lit bedroom. They reflect and make his head spin, red orbs elicit for the first time and she’s under the scope of his sharingan. It’s new and invigorating and one touch of a soft breast with rough hands makes her moan out his name for the first time ever. Both of them are deliriously overcome with the slightest touch.

• Oops. He shoots his shot too soon after hearing his name. 🫥 He wants to disappear in that moment, Madara can’t cope…sensing a pattern here? But it was so good, and she is undeniably beautiful. Purebred Uchiha, like him. Maybe if he was more….sensual and less of a brute? She would garner this reaction next time?

• This brings me to a bonus point with Madara, lol. The second position he comes fast would undoubtedly be his favorite, damn his wife for having a voice that cradles soft moans onto his left ear, for the second time he comes fast. Barely three minutes in.

Obito: Making out while sitting in his lap.

• 🫠 I don’t want to embarrass this man, but my fucking head just — cannot not go there. Sweet summer child thought that giving head was making out the first time he heard the phrase (at 14 no less).

• So he won’t tell her he is a grown ass virgin, but he really doesn’t need to. Obito acts with hesitation below that of a wet blanket when alone with his s/o. Shaky here and there, the surprised gasps he makes when her lips feather kisses like spring rain to his lips. Obito is besotted. Wholeheartedly leaking like a faucet in his slacks.

• I want to give this man the benefit I really do, finding it hard to keep it….yea no. They’re not even at that point of business when Obito let out stifled sound between a moan and low grunt. All she did was grind into his throbbing cock. 🫡 Ships sunk, and like with most; the captain goes down too.

• This woman, bless her heart as well. Has the patience of a god. She will make some cute pun about needing to check his briefs more thoroughly and Obito is so fucking flustered; ommggg. It’s unfortunate that he’s picked up on coping skills from Madara. He too, wants to hide.

• Divine, Obito thinks this of her. Taking his sad floppy manhood, which is covered in his premature cum as he watches her slurp him in his mouth. Making some pun about how wasteful but that she forgives him if he makes up for it.

• Will suck until he is hard again, which is not even thirty seconds. Obito also, like most Uchiha men, is subjected to his eyes. Red spun pearls capture her gaze as she sits in his lap on the recliner. This has always been a dream! It’s happening!

• Then it isn’t, no. Not really. Not again! His s/o is not even the slightest bit surprised when Obito starts to pulse within her. She’s barely sunk her self silly on his fat cock.

• ‘It’s ok, Obi. Just means you’re really excited for me.’ Hnngggg, that didn’t help and neither did the slow up and down motions or her hips rolling. Obito couldn’t decide if he was cumming — maybe dying? He was moaning sure, in her mouth and goddamn she was filthy in that moment. ‘Good boy…every drop.’

• No question about it, he was already finishing before the words left her lips to his in a searing kiss.

Shisui: On her stomach from behind.

• Brb. Internally and externally exploding at this idea. Shisui is so sweet, sensual with his partner(s). The king of making any woman wet his bed like a geyser.

• Definitely prefers eye contact positions — in his lap is a close second to finishing first. Where he can grip your hips and thighs, but if there is no time to spare. Oh, he knows his own defeat and how to unleash it.

• The second this woman is flat on her stomach, Shisui eagerly slips between her swollen folds. He’s got her legs shut and cages her entire body with his muscular frame. Having mercilessly devoured her like a five star Michelin three course meal prior, she’s beyond the realms of pleasure. This is the promise land.

• This Uchiha, too, transcends the first drag in and out of her warmth. So slick, cramped. A warm hug for his cock. Shisui would think it’s a game to hold it in, but that won’t be possible.

• As if the confines of her weeping cunt weren’t enough, it’s the sight that he dials in at and shamelessly data bases to his core memory. The image alone of watching his cock emerge just to disappear over and over again sends Shisui spiraling — whimpering usually.

• Shisui is a man of precision, ok? Not in this position though. He’ll get sloppy and plant an assortment of kisses and light nips to her back and shoulders just as he spurts the last remaining drops of Uchiha essence inside her.

• Lastly, when he slips out — still half cocked, Shisui doesn’t rock anything less than a semi. He will place his thumbs on either ass cheek, speading them open to see his cum leak out her gorgeous sanctuary he makes home to his seed.

Itachi: Front spooning her in the morning.

• Usually I write Itachi on the side of inexperienced and new. Not today; this man can be deplorable in bed and has some rather… nifty kinks. Though today we will focus on what makes Uchiha Itachi a ten second Tom.

• Also an Uchiha who adores eye contact. It’s a must. Every aspect of her body is unique and imprinted to his front temporal lobe. Some of it mundane, majority of it not.

• Itachi is an early bird (heh). So is she, and with that goes the saying — the early bird gets the worm. Or gives it. Seeing her in the throes of sleep, soft, serene and just down right beautiful. He’s down bad, rocking that good ole’ Hashirama hard as a rock morning wood. Itachi will think he’s going to make an everlasting memory, but the second his s/o opens her eyes he’s just so desperate.

• Yutakas are are simply one of the best articles of clothing. Comfortable, stylish and elegant — with a side of easy access. Itachi makes haste to disrobe them, while making to push her on her back…

• While his s/o all on board for being his pillow princess. This morning she hikes a leg over his hip and gives him a kiss so severely wanton, Itachi slips through drenched folds and gently rocks into her. Cradling her closer to his chest.

• More intimate than intimate, Itachi usually strides for ‘slow and steady’ for an everlasting experience. Today she’s insatiable. The whimper his name tumbles through subsequently has Itachi rutting harder and faster. Once those delicate muscles wrapped around his cock start sucking him in and swallowing him does he realize it’s only been about two minutes.

• Two minutes is not enough, but if she’s coming, so is he. An incredible group effort by them both. Itachi pants in her ear as their respective orgasms feed pleasure to one another.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Don't You Dare! (part 2)

Monstertober 2024 - day 13 [ Mating / Hunting season ] by @ozzgin

[ part 1 ]

You stare at Ash's eyes and wonder, who is this man? Where has that timid pup gone and who is this bold wolf? Not that you're complaining about the transformation. He wriggles his finger against your entrance and you whimper. Ash snarls and his teeth glisten pink in the sunset. He looks softer again. "Fuck, you're... so wet..."

You pull his hand off your throat and jump around his hips, locking your arms behind his thick and furry neck, and your legs around his thin waist. You can feel your ass pressing against a firm length.

"Oh my..." you coo rolling your hips against his tip, rubbing your moist entrance against his damp pants. He growls and squeezes your ass, and you happily lift your tail for easier access. "Well, well, well... This is a surprise. Pup can bite after all. Or can you?"

Ash shakes his head. "Do you ever stop teasing?" he asks.

You bury your head into his neck, inhaling his scent. "Fuck..." Your hips sway against his cock. Beautiful sensations make you dizzy. "You smell... so good... pup."

"Not like you—" Ash trails off and suddenly you're standing behind him, confused and disoriented, but swallowed by a sense of danger. "Don't move."

Ash's stern voice shakes you to clarity and you finally notice three hounds, dog hybrids, just a few meters from you. How didn't you notice them?

"She truly smells divine," one of them steps forward, a smug expression on his face. "We decided to play a bit with her, before leading hunters to you. Move aside, monster, and we won't hurt you too much when we're done."

You growl, thinking how these cocky assholes need good ass kicking... but you stop since your ears catch something. A sound so low, so menacing, so deadly, you immediately step back. With ears pinned tightly against his head, Ash is snarling like a demon.

"Stay there," he tells you. "And close your eyes."

You don't dare disobey him. With both your hands, you close your eyes and Ash's shadow moves away. The sounds you hear... the yelping... the whining... they are horrifying. But you don't open your eyes. Not until Ash's shadow towers you again.

"Hunters and hounds won't bother us today. You can look again", he tells you.

Opening only one eye, fearing what you'll see, you scan your friend. He is covered in blood, but seems unharmed. Three trails of bloody paws lead out of the ravine. The smell of blood, aggression and sweet, sweet victory twirl around you and your breath quickens. The excitement rushes through your veins. "Ash..."

He lifts your head with his claws, smiling a rather terrifying toothy grin. "Come on, my little vixen, let's get you full of this dog's cock."

Your knees buckle and you pant and whine, desperately whispering "Yes... please... now..." while your cunt begs and throbs for a cock. He lifts you and places you on soft leaves, desperately undressing you, but not as much as you claw his already tattered clothes. You need him, need him so much! You shiver and whine, and pull him closer to you. Your fingers are all around his base, playing with his sheath and slowly swelling knot.

He bites the claw off his middle finger and pushes it inside your soaked cunt while sinking his teeth into your breast. You growl: "No! I don't need any foreplay. Fuck me now!"

Ash growls, from annoyance or in agreement, you don't know and don't care. He lifts your legs high in the air, gives your red and puffy cunt a long lick that makes you cry out, and then pushes your knees next to your head. He rubs his thick and swollen cock against your folds and smears your arousal along his shaft. "You want this, vixen? You want my cock? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, yes, yes... please... do it!" you whimper, clawing at his forearms, urging him to hurry or you'll go mad. And finally - finally! - he pushes his length inside you. His knot slams against your entrance, and his heavy balls bounce off your ass. "Fuck!" he snarls, and, while pushing your knees with his entire torso, he pounds your needy pussy in heat with all his power.

You whimper and moan with no regards to who can hear you, telling him to fuck you harder. Ash whispers lewd things into your big fox ears until he can't form words anymore and only snarls and grunts. He thrusts his knot inside, stretching you even more, but you happily accept it and scream his name. He thrusts with his full length, ravaging you in the mating press. "Cum for me, you dirty little vixen. I want your pussy to clench around my knot. Scream my name."

And - fuck! - you do. Your nerves release a pleasure wave and you climax underneath him, pulling him with you. A warm liquid splashes your soft walls, and his knot swells, locking Ash inside you. But even though he stops with thrusts, he pushes one arm between you two and abuses your swollen clit.

"Remember what I dared you", he says, panting, and cruelly rubs your bundle of nerves. You thrash underneath him, overstimulated, but once he bites your ear, your cunt immediately responds and you cum again, all around his knot.

Leaning forward and touching the tip of your sweaty nose with his bloody snout, Ash purrs: "You lost the dare and now I get to do whatever I want with you."

Somewhere in the back of your foggy mind, you wonder what happened to the awkward Ash you knew, but this new Ash, the one forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you, is quite an impressive replacement, and you soon stop thinking about anything else.

[crashandlivewrites]

Spread Your Wings- Part 2

First off: thank you to @your-grace-the-raven-queen for being an amazing beta (and also because she gave my ass hell when I didn't tag her in the first part which was very wrong of me). We support beta readers in this house!

Pairing: PornStar!John Price x PornStar!fem!reader

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, porn industry innaccuracies, your manager being a cunt, things get a lil hot and steamy but no piv yet!!!

Word Count: 3.9k

< Part 1

Read on Ao3

An assistant stepped forward as the cameras stopped rolling, handing you both a couple of wet wipes before placing a towel on the floor, mopping up your mess. Scrubbing his beard with the wipe and tossing it aside, John then turned his attention to you, gently cleaning the inside of your sensitive thighs quickly and efficiently as he’d surely done hundreds of times before. 

“I can do it, it’s fine.” You murmured, hand reaching down as he moved higher up your thigh. He shushed you, shaking his head as he squeezed your arm tenderly. 

“S’alright, sweetheart. I got you. Just rest for me, yeah? We’re not done just yet.” He chuckled, glancing at your eyes to check on you yet again. The hand that wasn’t cleaning between your legs rose up to cup the back of your neck, thumb pressing gently against your skin. “Did it feel that good?” 

“Shut up, you know it did.” Lifting your head up, you focused on his cocky expression, his teasing smirk, his raised brow. Scoffing, you smacked him lightly on the chest, shaking your head as you did so. “You’re incorrigible!” 

“And you squirted. For real. None of that fake shit. I know for a fact Johnny didn’t get that out of you.”  The expression on your face morphed into a pout and he chuckled, tapping underneath your chin. “Don’t pout, sweets. I liked it. Like knowing I made you feel that good.” He tossed the wipe aside and rested both of his large hands on your thighs as he nestled between them. 

Drawing your lip between your teeth, you tipped your head to the side as you stared at him, eyes tracing over the attractive features of his face; the fullness of his cheeks, and the crow's feet around his eyes as he smiled kindly down at you. Your breathing had settled, your heart had calmed down, and so you pushed yourself up a little straighter. Your legs were still quite shaky, but you hooked them back around his hips as best you could, pulling him back into you, his brow cocked with interest. 

“Feeling better already? Mustn’t have done a good enough job then.” Grinning coyly at his words, you ran your hands up his chest, feeling the softness overlaying the firm muscle. 

“You definitely did a good enough job. But maybe I just want more.” It felt easy, natural almost, falling into this flirty banter with him. He’d made it that way with his own flirtatious words and lingering touches. He beamed at your words, nosing along the line of your jaw, inhaling deeply. 

“You know…” he mumbled into the skin of your neck, breath tickling you slightly. “Johnny was right about something. You smell fucking divine, sweet like cherries.” Cupping the back of your head, he tilted it slightly, exposing more of your neck to him as he breathed in deeply and pressed soft kisses along your neck. 

“Yeah?” Your voice was raspy as you felt yourself getting pulled back under the haze of arousal. Before he could respond, a pointed cough broke the intimate moment between the pair of you. John clicked his tongue, sucking in a breath as he pulled back to reveal your manager standing just off to the side expectantly. 

“Can we talk?” His tone was pinched, head jerking over his shoulder as his toe tapped impatiently, causing your body to tense in response. Clearly, John felt the tension, his hands moving to squeeze your shoulders as he faced the smaller man. 

“She’s still feeling a little shaky from the session. Whatever you need to talk to her about, you can say it here.” John turned to you, eyes both warm and serious.  “That good with you, sweets?”  You held his gaze giving a firm note before glancing at your manager’s narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow before the man turned his apathetic expression to you. 

“We’ve got a fair amount of marketable footage, but I’d like more vocals from you. There’s some good audio, I’d just like you to be a little louder, play it up for your audience, y’know?” John bristled at the words, fingers digging slightly into your body as he turned to the side. 

“I think she performed extremely well. Especially for my usual productions—”

“I’m trying to advance her career.” Your manager interrupted without a care, turning a pointed look at you. “Moaning out another man’s name isn’t going to attract people to watch your content. And you need to perform a little more for the camera, too.” 

You glanced between the two men, watching your oblivious manager blinking expectantly at you as John straightened, arms folding across his chest, his head tilting to the side. 

“She’s doing just fine.” He grits out, moving to lean on the bench between you and your manager. “I’m guessing that’s your first time hearing a woman really orgasm. Sounds a bit different than the produced shit you’re used to but let me tell you something.” John stepped forward again, using his height as an intimidation factor as he loomed over the other man. 

“Real shit like that is what keeps people coming back to watch it again and again. She’ll build up a loyal fanbase who appreciate the genuine content. Have a conversation with Kate. She’ll tell you my numbers.” 

“You’re a man. Women like the soft shit. Men don’t. Men wanna hear her cry out like a whore—” 

“I’m a man, aren’t I?” John’s voice was venomous, sending shivers down your spine as you watched the confrontation unfold, legs still feeling too unsteady to step between the men. “And I fucking adored hearing her cum like that.” 

Well, if that didn’t send a fresh wave of arousal directly into your still-wet underwear. 

Your manager simply sniffed, turning his nose up as he spat a final retort before he stalked off. 

“It’s her career anyway, not mine.” 

Snorting, John turned around, anger evident in his eyes and furrowed brow as he stepped back over towards you. His hands returned to rest on your hips as he nestled between your legs once more as you mumbled a soft thanks. 

“What’re you doing with a wanker like that, sweets? He won’t treat you right.” Shrugging, you leaned into him, head resting on his chest as you groaned in frustration. 

“Studio assigned him to me. He’s been alright for the most part, but he’s got a very fixed idea about what a porn star should be.” John hummed at your response, dipping down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head as his thumbs stroked mindless patterns just above the line of your underwear. 

“I’ll link you up with Kate after this, yeah? Give you a better standing in the field. She’s dedicated and will always advocate for your safety and preferences.” You blinked at him in disbelief, but his face seemed genuine. “Nothing to it, I swear. Lemme help you out, alright?”

And how could you say no to that? Not when he was looking down at you with a sharp glint in his eye, and his palm cupping your cheek. Your mouth parted, already leaning in to kiss him when he placed a thumb over your lips, halting your movements.

“You ready for round two, sweets?” You nodded, his thumb still pressed against your lips, just begging to be bitten. He glances over your shoulder with a gorgeous half smile.  “Nik? We’re ready.”   

Nikolai started getting the crew into position as John returned his gaze to you. “And you… don’t think about what that bastard said. With me, I want you to be real. Within reason, of course. Let me hear you moan my name as I kiss you, touch you, fuck you. Promise me that, sweets?” 

He’d enthralled you from the moment you’d first watched him on a whim. The snippet was something that had caught your eye on twitter and made you wet instantly. Here, with him standing before you, you were propelled back to that moment, feeling equally as enchanted. Lips parted slightly and eyes wide, you nodded. 

“Yes sir. Anything for you.” 

“Good girl. My good girl.” His possessive tone was backed up by his hands gripping at your body, pulling you close until your hips were flush with his. He claimed your mouth even before Nikolai had signalled the cameras were back up and running.

The kiss was all-consuming. His hand wrapping around the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he held you to him. Adjusting your leg, you dug a heel into his lower back, locking him into your body as you responded eagerly, hands clawing at his body. Though he was strong and broad, there was a certain softness to him that made it easier to grab eager handfuls of his body, even through the material of his shirt.

Sliding both hands underneath your rear, he lifted you off the counter, walking as he continued to kiss you. His tongue slid alongside yours, roaming and tasting every inch of your mouth as he cupped your ass, fingers digging into the flesh. 

You had no clue what he was planning to do next. All rational thoughts had left your brain. What remained had been taken over by the man you were currently wrapped around. Moaning softly into his lips, your nails scratched lightly at the back of his neck, egging him on. His hands gripped tighter as a deep rumble sounded in his chest. He sat down onto the couch, placing you on his lap so that your wet core was resting up against his prominent bulge. Unable to resist the allure of friction, you ground against him, moaning as you did so. 

Quickly, he took hold of your hair and pulled you back to look into your eyes. 

“Getting greedy now, are you?” He tipped his head to the side, eyes narrowing like a predator lining up his prey. “Ate that pussy out so nicely and now you’re just grinding on my lap like a desperate little thing?” 

He titters, palms sliding up your thighs to push up the satin slip once more, revealing your ass to the camera as his hands roam up your back. Your mouth kept opening, but nothing came out, his actions and words rendering you speechless. 

You knew you should say something, either banter back or be subservient to him for the good of the film, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not with the way he was staring at you, mock disappointment evident in his eyes. 

“Was gonna take this pretty little number off, but I think I’ll wait now. Make you beg for it.” One hand pulls back, reaching up to hold your jaw and pull you closer so he could whisper into your ear. “Want you to grind on my thigh until you’ve soaked the material through. Got it?” 

“Uh-huh.” You managed to get out, already shuffling to change positions, moving to straddle one of his thick, muscular thighs as he turned your head back to look at him.

“Words, pretty thing. Wanna hear that voice of yours.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl. Now get to it.” He slaps your ass playfully, not enough to make it sting, but enough to jerk you into action. 

Slotting your legs on either side of his thigh, you began a slow grind, dragging yourself along the rough material of his pants, feeling the wide expanse of his leg flex underneath you. Whining softly at the pleasurable tingle spreading through your body, you built a steady pace, your clit throbbing as it dragged down the length of his thigh. Reaching forward, you curl your fingers around his shoulder, nails digging into the firm flesh to stabilise yourself as you continue rocking. 

John was simply watching you, elbow up on the armrest of the couch and tilting his head against his closed fist. His eyes were dark and heady, trailing over your body, humming occasionally as he ran his free hand along your side. 

The touch spurred you on, rolling your hips faster as you felt heat slowly build in your abdomen.

“Good fucking girl. Keep going. Know you can do it.” He grinned lazily, leaning back and bouncing you on the leg you were riding, causing you to loudly cry out his name. 

“That’s it, sweets. Moan for me, cry for me.” Cooing softly at you, his hand reaching down to grip his hard length, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. “See what you do to me? See what my pretty wife makes me feel? Got me so fucking hard, love.” 

You couldn’t help as your eyes immediately trained on the sizeable bulge. You’d seen his cock before, obviously, through your screen at home. But here and now, you were going to see it in person. 

“John… fuck, more John, please. Wanna… I wanna…” With your head hazy from lust, you couldn’t form the sentence, instead choosing to lean forward and reach out, palming at his groin, hips jerking faster, cunt aching and empty as you felt the size of him. 

“You wanna see it, baby? Wanna see my cock?” He whispered into your ear, his heavy breathing fanning over your neck as he groaned, his own hips jolting slightly at the contact of your hand. “No, not yet… fuck, not yet sweets. Just wait a little bit longer f’me, yeah? Gonna make it worth the wait, love.”

He pulled away, removing your hand before placing his palms on either side, hoisting you up so you straddled his lap properly, feeling the hardness of his erection against your throbbing clit. Barely needing the guidance of his hands, you immediately resumed your grind, moaning desperately, arms linking behind his neck. Cursing under his breath, John’s fingers were digging into your thighs, joining in the rhythm now as you felt yourself edging closer yet again. 

Your panties were stuck to you, wetness surely leaking through to his jeans as you continued to rub yourself on him like someone first discovering how good grinding on something felt.

“Oh fuck yeah, pretty girl, just like that.” John rumbled deeply, head tipping forward to rest on your shoulder as his breathing came out in short pants. “Feel so fucking good grinding on my cock like this. This how you’re gonna ride me? Until your pussy’s drooling all over me and you can barely speak?” 

Tipping your head back and keening, you were completely enthralled with everything this man was doing to you. The feel of him under your body, the sound of his rough voice telling you just how good you were making him feel, the musky smell of him… everything. His mere presence could make you almost forget everything around you, the cameras, the set, the crew all melting into nothing as you were set alight. Nodding deliriously was all you could manage now, hands gripping tightly around him as you leaned forward, your chest nearing his face. 

Groaning, John latched onto your nipple, teeth and tongue swirling around the stiff bud through the satin of the dress you were wearing. Growling in frustration, his hands left your hips, gripping the neckline of the slip dress and tearing it down the middle. Your noise of surprise was cut off as he pushed you back to arm's length, halting your movements, his pupils dark and dilated as he stared hungrily at your exposed body. 

“Jesus, sweetheart. You have any idea how goddamn gorgeous you are? How fucking immaculate your tits are?”

“My husband does seem to tell me that from time to time.” You teased, surprising even yourself with the line, making sure to run your hands up your now bare body to cup your breasts and squeeze them enticingly for both the camera and for him. John let out a low whistle, brow quirking and eyes sparking mischievously at your response, as if he also had almost forgotten he was at work right now. 

“Yeah, that’s right. You’re my fuckin’ wife. Mine. Aren’t you? Putting on this show just for me, aren’t you?” You nodded; eyes fixing on his during the last line. His gaze was intense, his hands were perched high on your thighs, squeezing ever so slightly. Your mind trailed back to moments earlier, just before you restarted filming, when he said he wanted you to be genuine. For him.

Swiping your tongue over your bottom lip, you ran your hands up his shirt, toying with the buttons. 

“I wanna see you, too.” You whispered, a little more sincerely, keeping your eyes level with him for a scarce moment before grinning cheekily, and tearing his shirt open. Buttons popped off, skittering along the tiled floor. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, love. You’re gonna drive me insane.” He grunts, eyes wide in shock at your assertiveness. But you don’t even get to admire his glorious, fuzzy chest as he leans up to reclaim your mouth, spanking your ass as he did so.

This kiss was different than before. This kiss was carnal, heated, and possessive with teeth biting down on your lip. The bristles of his beard scratching against the soft skin of your face while his palms hungrily slid over your body, tugging away the last of the torn fabric, leaving you only in your soaked underwear as you begin to grind down on him again. The pace was rough, fast, and needy. Greedy hands roamed bare skin, clutching and tugging in exploration as your tongues melded together similarly, seeking to map out every inch of one another before it was too late, and the moment between you two would be over. 

“Feels so good— oh my god— fuck, John, please!” The noises coming from your mouth were loud and frantic as you picked up the pace. As if to shut you up, John pressed two of his thick fingers into your mouth, tickling the back of your throat as he leaned in. 

“Suck ‘em for me. Show me how well you can take them. Get them nice and wet. Gotta put my fingers in you first, stretch out that tiny little cunt for my thick cock, yeah?” His breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh grunts as he continued to drive his hips up to meet yours. 

Moaning around his fingers, your eyes fluttered closed as you sucked them deep, tongue sweeping between the digits, spreading your saliva as he pressed the pads of his fingers on your tongue. His lips parted as he watched you, as though engraving every single one of your features into his mind.

“Yeah, that’s it, pretty girl. Suck my fingers as you grind against my cock. Picture it’s in your mouth and gimme a show.” Hearing the roughness in his tone and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was just as affected by you as you were by him, even if it was just in this moment.

Looking directly at him, lips swollen from his brutal kiss earlier, you began bobbing your head along the length of his fingers, sucking and swirling your tongue around his digits, craving something else in your mouth. The feral glint in his eyes spurring you on, taking them all the way down. Blinking back tears from your lashes, you swallowed around his fingers, choking slightly which set him off. 

Swearing under his breath, John pulled his fingers from your mouth, placing them back down onto your hips as he controlled your movements. His eyes were focused on where you were rubbing against him, his thumbs digging into your skin as he thrust his hips up to match your pace. The friction making him groan gutturally and you whine softly. Tilting his head back, you could see his eyes were glazed and hazy, looking up at you in awe. 

“You’re something fucking else, sweetheart.” His voice husky as he panted heavily, rhythm turning uncoordinated and desperate. Resting your forehead against his and cupping his face gently, your uneven breaths intermingled with his as you screwed your eyes shut at the delicious throbbing of your clit every time it dragged up his hard cock. 

“So pretty, so damn fucking pretty like this.” He whispered, nose nudging against yours. “Makin’ me feel so good, fuck—” His praises cut off with a strangled moan and his grip tightened. 

In the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t ideal for filming. Grinding on your partner like some high school teen in her boyfriend’s first car wasn’t exactly a top search in porn, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. It was you and him and the fire that was burning through your veins. 

Coming to his senses, John’s grip on your hips tightened as he pushed you back off his lap, effectively ceasing all your movements as you frown in confusion. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked hesitantly, the tone of your voice heavy and thick as you tried to regulate your breathing. John simply chuckled, shaking his head. He tipped his head back over the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“Jesus love, making me feel like a young lad again.” The corners of your mouth were twitching upwards, the pieces in your mind clicking together. 

“You need a breather there, John?” You couldn’t help but tease him, reaching down towards his crotch, but getting stopped by his firm grip. 

“You’re a downright menace, you know that?” Giggling, you leaned in to press soft pecks to his cheek, his nose, his forehead; covering his face in kisses as he laughed along with you. 

“Alright, you.” Pinning both your wrists behind your back and tugging your back, John managed to put some space between you both. “Menace, I tell you.” 

Regretfully, you relented your assault, sliding down onto the couch next to him. 

“At least I wasn’t about to cream in my pants.” 

“I’m sorry, love, have you seen the state of my jeans?” His own tone was ribbing as he gestured to the seat of his pants, which showed clear stains from your arousal. Biting your lip, you blinked up at him and shrugged. 

“I’m so terribly sorry, did you want me to stop?” His brow raised at your sarcasm, scoffing as he shook his head. 

“The gall of her?” John looked over at Kate who was flashing a smile of her own as she typed away on her phone. 

“Someone was bound to put you in your place, John.” Making a noise of protest, John looked over at Nik for support, but got none there either. 

During the exchange, you spared a glance over at your own manager, who was scowling in the corner with his arms folded and yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Turning your gaze back to John, you nudged him slightly. 

“It’s alright, old man, I can wait all day for you to get it back up.” 

Nikolai let out a barking laugh as John turned his head to look at you incredulously. Moving too quickly for you to process, he pushed you onto your back and pulled you closer to him by your ankles. Letting out a yelp of surprise, your eyes were wide as they stared up at him, his gaze a strange mix of playfulness and interest. 

“You’re cheeky, I’ll give you that. But I’ve got years on you, sweet thing. I can make your head spin in ways you’ve never even imagined.” 

“Prove it.” His eyes narrowed at the snarky retort and one corner of his mouth pulled into a vicious smirk. 

“Oh sweetheart, be very careful what you wish for.” He purred, caressing your skin softly and you felt yourself practically melt under him with anticipation.

Taglist

@ferns-fics (I thought there was another couple who asked but I couldn't find you, apologies! I'll try and make better note for next time)

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Saw you were taking Lucius Verus requests 👀

Perhaps something along the lines of Lucius rescuing reader from trouble. Hurt/comfort? I just know those biceps could hold me all day…

(if you write this can you tag me pls)

Oooooh thanks for requesting!!

(For the sake of this scenario, let’s say Lucius was allowed to walk the streets of Rome. Tw // mild violence)

————

“Fifteen denarii? For this?” You raised your eyebrows at the textile merchant, pointing at the swath of fabric you’d been sampling. “You must take me for a fool."

He frowned, his screwed up face uglier and even less friendly than before. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"For the quality, this is ten at best! And that’s being generous!”

"How dare you!" He spat, causing the stall's guard to take a menacing step forward. "This is genuine Tarentum wool!"

"I own such wool, and it doesn't feel nearly as coarse as this," you scoffed, tossing the fabric back at him. "You are scamming people with fakes."

"You forget yourself, woman," the guard said, his voice gruff.

He raised a large, meaty hand with the intent to strike you across the face and you flinched, trying to cover yourself with your hands. You grit your teeth in anticipation...

But the startling pain never came. You dared to look up as you heard the guard's confused grunt, and you saw that another man had caught his wrist.

"I would really advise against that," the man said, a dangerous edge to his tone.

"And who are you!? This does not concern you!" The merchant said, turning his glare away from you. "She was trying to tarnish my business!"

"Not without good reason, I suspect."

The guard tried to shove him off, but the man swiftly spun away from from his reach and punched him square in the face. You clambered backward as a full on brawl broke out between them, breaking the table where all the different pieces of textile were displayed. Your first instinct was to flee, but as you turned to run, a hand caught your arm.

"And just where do you think you're going?" the merchant sneered, his grip tight enough to bruise. "Look what you have caused!"

He backhanded you harshly, and at your cry, your savior knocked the guard unconscious and whirled around. There was fury in his gaze as he saw you cradling one side of your face with your free hand, and he took up the fallen guard's sword.

"Let go of her," he said slowly, pointing the tip of the sword at the merchant. "Or I'll cut off your hands."

Begrudgingly, the merchant let you go, and your savior nodded at you to get behind him. You hurried towards him without a second thought, instinctively holding onto his tunic. The two men stared at each other for a tense moment, poised to strike.

"I should cut them off anyway, so you may never strike a woman again," he spat, but lowered the sword.

"Get the fuck out of here," the merchant growled, his teeth clenched. "If I ever see either of you around here again, I'll have you killed."

Your savior did not even react to the threat, instead glancing at you over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

He tossed the sword on the ground and led you away, hovering close behind you to make sure no one else tried anything. Out in the busy street, he stopped you so he could examine your face, frowning. His thumb traced your cheekbone ever so lightly, which was just beginning to turn faintly purple.

You looked at him more closely, as well, pinned in place by the concern in his crystalline blue eyes. He was handsome in an almost divine way, like the personification of the god of war, Mars. He certainly fought like him, too, an undercurrent of violence under the flex of his muscles.

But you were not afraid of him, instead just awed that he had done it all in your defense.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours.

You shook your head. "Just a dull throb now. Won't look so pretty for a while, though..."

"You needn't be concerned about that," he said, his hand retreating.

You swallowed hard, your face heating up at the insinuation. "I--Thank you for saving me, um..."

"Lucius, he said. "Lucius Verus."

"Thank you, Lucius," you said. "Surely I would be worse off if it hadn't been for you. Aren't you afraid he might call the Praetorian guard?"

"He won't. He would have to answer too many other questions that I'm sure he would prefer not to, especially about his business practices..."

You nodded, letting out a breath as you felt a little more relieved. You felt the urge to hug him, but instead you took both of his hands and squeezed them appreciatively.

"May the Gods bless you always, Lucius Verus."

He squeezed your hands back and smiled, inclining his head graciously.

"And you," he said, then glanced around at the busy crowd of the market. "I should like to be your personal guard for the rest of the day, if you'd let me escort you."

Your smile widened. "Well, I would never dream of declining such generous offer."

-----------

[sevikas-bitch]

sevika coming home to her housewife after a tough day? 💗🥹

yes yes yes!!!!

Sevika coming home to her housewife after a tough day

it'd been a long day, as Sevika's housewife you had to keep the place clean and tidy and cleaning up after Sevika was no small feat, she wasn't exactly the tidiest person (as much as she would deny that)

You'd just gotten the food out the oven, Sevika should be home any minute

you were normally pretty good at timing these things

as if my divine timing, the door opens

and immediately slams shut so hard it feels like the whole house shook

you hear her throw her things down on the floor in the hall

"That kind of day, huh?" you call out to her

a deep sigh is your response as she enters the kitchen

her frame towering over you as she bends down slightly to wrap her arms around your waist and bury her face in your neck

in return you wrap your arms around her head and hold her, scratching her head in little circles the way she likes

she looked so defeated and pissed about it

"Jinx?" you ask

"who the fuck else?" she replies, voice a little muffled from her place in the crook of your neck

you kiss her hair and she pulls you in closer, as if she's trying to merge your bodies into one

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Just the usual, didn't get her own way, then she did, then she fucked it all up and threw a tantrum. That's when this happened"

she pulls back slightly to show you

that's when you notice the damage to her bio mechanical arm

it's severely scratched up, has knife marks in it and looks like it's taken a real beating

"...baby" you almost whisper reaching out to touch some of the marks

"I'm fine" she offers you in return "nothing I can't handle"

as much love as there was between you, she still gets insecure about her arm and not being "whole"

as if that would ever bother you

you take her face in your hands, looking deeply and lovingly into her eyes

"Can I do anything?" you ask

Her eyes dart towards you with that look in them "I'm sure you can find a way to cheer me up"

you giggle "Upstairs?"

"Upstairs" she smiles

[d-z20]

A Lesson in Witchcraft (NSFW)

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x Reader

Summary: You're studying under the most powerful divination witch on the continent—Lilia Calderu. What began as mentorship soon became something far more personal. But knowledge comes at a cost, and under Lilia’s guiding hand, you’re about to learn your most unforgettable lesson yet.

- OR -

Her methods of teaching you to concentrate on tarot turn out to be far more distracting and she ends up fucking you. Like a lot.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, top Lilia, hints of dom Lilia, plot gets abandoned for porn pretty quick, smidge of soft aftercare, R receives: praise, magic strap, breeding, overstimulation, fingering, oral, I think that's it but I could be wrong

Words: 3.2k

A/N: No body means no death 😤😤 requested fic

AO3 | Masterlist

The villa smelt of aged parchment and burning candles, a mixture that clung to the tapestries and books stacked in precarious piles around the room. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows against the stone walls, as if whispering ancient secrets to those who knew how to listen. This was Lilia’s domain, her sanctuary, steeped in the echoes of centuries past.

In the moment she had thought would be her last, she had fallen—not onto the waiting swords and to certain death, but into the familiar embrace of her old coven’s residence in Sicily. It was then that she made a choice: no more running, no more denial. She would embrace her truth, her power. And in time, the world would know her name as the greatest divination witch on the continent.

And now, years later, you had sought her out. Desperate. Needing to understand the secrets only she could reveal.

“Tell me,” Lilia said, her voice rich and laced with amusement. “What do you see?”

You exhaled slowly, hands hovering over the tarot spread before you, trying to quiet the thrum of your pulse. The cards blurred under the weight of her gaze. You swallowed hard.

“Concentrate,” she chided, shifting in her seat. The movement was subtle but deliberate, the rustle of her robe revealing the barest glimpse of her thigh. “A divination witch must anticipate what’s to come.”

You bit your lip. You knew what she was doing. Lilia was testing more than just your magical ability—she was testing your control. She always did.

A shiver ran down your spine as she leaned forward, her fingers ghosting over yours. “If you were truly gifted, you’d know what I intend to do next,” she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.

You clenched your fists, struggling to maintain focus. The air crackled with energy as Lilia traced patterns over your wrist, slow, deliberate. No magic bound you, and yet you could not move, rooted to the spot by nothing more than her.

The first touch was gentle—a brush of fingertips down your spine, a shift in the atmosphere that sent heat pooling in your core. Then came the control. Lilia’s presence pressing down on you like a weight, her will wrapping around you tighter than any spell ever could.

She started slow, dragging out each movement, each whisper against your skin. Every time you thought you had a moment to recover, she pushed you further.

Your arousal grew with each teasing touch and lingering glance. Heat curled in your stomach, spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. Your thighs clenched instinctively, already aching, already too aware of the way Lilia toyed with you—keeping you on edge without ever giving you what you so desperately needed. The anticipation itself was maddening, your body betraying you with every sharp inhale, every unconscious tilt of your hips seeking friction that wasn’t there.

"You should have foreseen this," she mused, her voice still poised, still so effortlessly composed. "A good witch always prepares."

Your breath had started to come in ragged gasps, your body trembling under her calculated pace. The tarot cards around you fluttered as if caught in an unseen breeze, the room thick with the scent of magic and something far more intoxicating.

Every nerve in your body felt alight, and your skin was hypersensitive to her every movement. The way her fingers ghosted along your collarbone sent shivers down your spine, the barest press of her nails against your thigh making your breath stutter. It was unbearable—this slow, torturous buildup. Every brush of her lips, every teasing stroke across your burning skin only made the ache between your legs more unbearable, the slickness pooling there undeniable.

Lilia smirked as she traced a lazy circle against the inside of your wrist, watching the way you twitched under her touch. "So responsive," she purred, more to herself than you. "You're practically trembling already."

She finally pulled away, leaving you breathless, your skin flushed with lingering heat. But she was far from finished. Reclining back into her chair, she extended a hand, beckoning you forward with nothing more than a commanding gaze.

"Come," she instructed, voice silk and steel. "Show me how much you've learnt."

Your legs barely held steady as you obeyed, every step reminding you just how wet you were. The evidence of your need slicked the insides of your thighs; the cool air against your heated skin only amplified the ache. The anticipation coiled tight in your stomach; the knowledge that she was watching your every movement made the fire in your veins burn even hotter.

It was only when you reached her that you saw it—her enchanted strap, shimmering faintly with magic, resting against her thigh. Lilia’s ringed fingers traced over the length of it, slow and deliberate, her nails raking just enough to make her shudder. A quiet, pleased sigh slipped past her lips, and for the briefest moment, she bit down on her lower lip, savouring the sensation.

You knew she could feel everything. Every stroke, every touch—it all translated back to her. The way her breathing hitched only made the ache between your legs worse; need coiling so tightly in your stomach it was almost unbearable.

Lilia’s dark eyes flickered up to meet yours, knowing and hungry. She gripped your waist as she guided you onto her lap, the heat of her body seeping into yours, her nails pressing into your skin just enough to keep you grounded. “Come now,” she purred. “I can already tell you’re ready for me.”

"Slowly," she murmured, hands firm yet coaxing as she helped you lower yourself onto her. The moment you sank down, a sharp gasp tore from your lips. You were so worked up, so utterly drenched, that the strap was already slick with your arousal, easing the stretch but doing nothing to dull the overwhelming sensation of being filled.

Lilia hummed in satisfaction, her fingers tightening around your waist as she felt the way you trembled in her grasp. "There... take your time," she encouraged, though the dark gleam in her eyes told you she was savouring every second of your struggle to adjust.

The stretch was overwhelming in the best way. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to draw her in deeper. The magic woven into the strap pulsed faintly, attuned to your every reaction, making the sensation all the more intoxicating. You swore you could feel her twitch inside you, the enchantment allowing her to share in your pleasure.

Lilia's smirk deepened as she watched you shudder, her grip firm as she guided you further onto her lap. "So eager," her voice was silk and steel. "And so very, very wet."

She didn’t rush you. She simply watched, her eyes half-lidded, absorbing every twitch, every soft gasp you couldn’t suppress. And when you were fully seated, she hummed in satisfaction, tightening her hold on your hips.

“Good,” she praised, her grip shifting as she guided you into motion. “Now, let’s see if you can keep up.”

You barely had a chance to adjust before she took control, lifting and lowering you with practiced ease. Each movement sent sparks through your entire body, pleasure mounting too quickly, too intensely. Your nails dug into her shoulders as she pushed you further, refusing to let you slow.

“Tell me, young one,” she purred, lips ghosting against your throat, “can you divine how many times I intend to make you cum?”

You couldn’t answer. Words failing you as the pleasure built impossibly high, your body surrendering to her guidance. She only chuckled, her grip tightening as she thrust up to meet you, pulling strangled moans from your lips.

Lilia was relentless. She drove you to the edge of an orgasm over and over, her name slipping from your tongue like a prayer. And when she finally allowed you to cum, it was nothing short of ruinous.

She held you close as the aftershocks wracked your body, her fingers tracing idle patterns over your sweat-slicked skin. But she wasn’t finished. Not yet.

She rolled her hips once more, drawing a sharp gasp from you. “We’re not done,” she reminded you, her voice wicked and indulgent. “You can take more.”

Lilia's words seeped into your blissed-out mind, thick with promise. Your body was already trembling; every inch of you hypersensitive to her touch, but she wasn’t offering mercy. She wanted more.

"Up," she instructed, voice velvet-dark, her hands guiding you as if you were no more than a doll in her grasp. Your legs barely cooperated as you lifted yourself off her lap, the motion making you shudder at just how wet you were and how slick the strap had become from your cum. Your thighs trembled as you stepped away, but Lilia didn’t let you go far.

"Over the table," she commanded.

You obeyed on instinct, pressing your hands against the ancient wood, the tarot cards scattered beneath your fingertips, their meanings lost in the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. The cool air kissed your heated skin, but it did nothing to soothe the ache.

Lilia took her time. She traced her fingers down your back, teasing over the curve of your ass before dipping lower, spreading your folds with deliberate intent. A sharp breath left you as she dragged her fingers through your slickness, humming in satisfaction.

"So eager," she mused, her tone almost thoughtful. "So sensitive."

You jolted when she shoved two fingers inside; the stretch so easy, so effortless after everything she had already done to you. Your body clenched around her as she thrust them deep, curling just right.

"L-Lilia—"

She hushed you, her other hand pressing against the small of your back, keeping you pinned as she worked you open with measured strokes. Each push sent you spiralling higher, your legs shaking beneath you, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"You will cum again for me," she purred, her pace quickening, her fingers relentless.

It was impossible to resist. The pleasure slammed into you, violent in its intensity, your body locking up as your next climax tore through you. Your cries filled the dimly lit room, but Lilia wasn’t done.

As your body slumped forward, boneless, she withdrew her fingers, dragging the wetness over your inner thighs, marking you with it. And then, a new pressure—her strap pressing against your entrance once more, still slick with your combined arousal.

"One more," she said, voice dark with promise. "You can give me one more, can't you?"

Your only response was a desperate whimper as she pushed in, stretching you once more, filling you so completely that it sent fresh sparks of overstimulation coursing through your veins.

Lilia chuckled, hands firm on your hips. "Good girl."

Lilia didn’t hesitate. She pulled out and then thrust back in hard, burying herself to the hilt in one swift, punishing movement. The force of it sent you forward, your breath catching in a strangled moan as she filled you.

But this time, she wasn’t just toying with you—she was chasing her own pleasure.

Her grip on your waist tightened as she set a brutal pace, her hips slamming into yours with unrelenting force. Each thrust sent increasingly desperate arousal through you, your body twitching, struggling to keep up with the pleasure that had already wrung you dry.

And then her hand slid lower.

Her fingers—cool, adorned with heavy rings—pressed against swollen clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made you jerk in her grasp. The sensation was too much, too intense, and yet you keened at the contact, pushing back into her touch.

"Lilia—your rings," you gasped, barely able to form words between the relentless rhythm of her hips and the exquisite pressure of her fingers. "They feel so good."

She chuckled darkly, dragging her fingertips over you with teasing precision. "Do they now?"

The contrast of the metal against your overheated skin sent a shiver through you, amplifying every sensation until you were practically sobbing for relief. Lilia only hummed, stroking you with slow, knowing circles as she pounded into you, her own breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You were made for this," she whispered, her voice tight and controlled, though her rhythm was faltering, growing more erratic.

Then, with a deep, low moan, her hips stilled against yours. She pressed in as deep as she could go, her grip turning bruising as she came inside you, the strap pulsing in tandem with her climax. The sensation had you whimpering, your body locking up at the heat that filled you.

She stayed like that for a moment, catching her breath and letting the pleasure wash over her. But she still wasn’t done.

"On your back," she commanded, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Your limbs felt like liquid, barely able to function, but you obeyed. With a soft gasp, you turned onto your back, legs dangling off the side of the table, tarot cards now forgotten beneath you. The room spun with the force of your own exhaustion, but then Lilia was between your legs again.

She pressed a kiss to your trembling inner thigh before dragging her tongue over your pussy, lapping up the mess she had left behind. The sensation had you arching off the table, your hands grasping at the air for something—anything—to ground you.

"Lilia—" you choked, a sob ripping from your throat as she sucked at your sensitive clit, her tongue flicking against it with ruthless intent.

There was no escaping it. You were already too sensitive, too raw, and the moment her mouth sealed around you, another orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your body tensed, legs trembling violently as you came again, your cries echoing through the room.

But Lilia didn’t let up. She took in every drop, drinking in your pleasure like it was the finest wine, her grip firm on your thighs to keep you still as she worked you through your release.

And then—one last time.

She pulled away, her lips glistening, her eyes dark with hunger as she stood. The strap between her legs twitched with renewed magic, still ready, still insatiable.

"One more, just one more," she insisted, dragging you upright and pulling you flush against her. "I want to feel you shatter for me again."

A breathless, wrecked laugh escaped you. “That’s what you said last time,” you managed to protest, your body still trembling, nerves alight with exhaustion and oversensitivity.

Lilia only smirked, utterly unmoved. She brushed a damp curl away from her face before she turned you over and bent you back down against the table.

“You can give me one more,” she murmured, her voice thick with promise. “I know you can.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before she was inside you once more, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. A cry tore from your throat at the stretch, the wet slapping sound of your bodies meeting nearly obscene in the quiet of the room.

At first, her thrusts were deep and slow, forcing you to feel every inch of her inside you. But as soon as she felt your body respond—felt the way you clenched down around her despite your protests—her pace shifted to be rough and unforgiving.

Your overstimulated body had no resistance left. The moment she angled her thrusts just right, pleasure speared through you like lightning, raw and all-consuming. Your climax tore through you with a force that left you gasping, clawing at her back, your entire body clenching around her in desperate waves.

Lilia groaned, her grip bruising on your hips as she buried herself deep, chasing her own release. A guttural moan escaped her as she spilled inside you once more, her hips stilling for just a moment as she let the aftershocks wash over her.

She didn’t pull away immediately. She stayed pressed against you, her breath ghosting over your skin, her fingers tracing slow, idle patterns over your trembling thighs.

Lilia's gaze lingered on you for a long moment, amusement dancing in her dark eyes as she traced her fingers along your jaw. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she gave her next command.

"On your knees," she spoke, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Clean me up properly."

Your limbs were weak, trembling from the relentless pleasure she had wrung from you, but you obeyed without hesitation. Lowering yourself before her, you grasped her thighs for support, your breath ghosting over her strap, now covered with a mix of both of your cum.

Lilia let out a pleased hum as you took the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over it before sinking down further. The taste was intoxicating, a mix of everything she had given you.

"Just like that," she praised, threading her fingers through your hair, her grip tightening as she guided your movements. "Such a fast learner."

You hollowed your cheeks, taking more, bobbing your head at the pace she set. Her fingers curled at the back of your skull, her hips rolling forward ever so slightly, pushing deeper into your mouth. The strap twitched against your tongue, carrying the echoes of her pleasure.

A sharp inhale and then a moan.

"You're being so good for me," she hummed, her voice unravelling as she thrust just a bit deeper. "Now, swallow every drop."

You barely had time to prepare before she came once more, herf cum spilling onto your tongue, thick and warm. The sensation alone made your core throb with residual need. You swallowed obediently, not letting a single drop go to waste, your throat flexing around her as she let out a shuddering sigh of satisfaction.

Finally, Lilia loosened her grip, her fingers stroking over your hair in silent approval. She helped lift you to your feet, steadying your shaking form before guiding you toward the chaise lounge in the corner of the dimly lit room.

"Rest, young one," she said gently, draping her coat—rich in golden embroidery and worn with the weight of years—over your shoulders. The fabric smelt like her, like incense and old books, like the very essence of magic itself. You melted into its warmth, exhaling softly as she settled beside you.

Her fingers ghosted over your forehead, brushing damp strands of hair away with unexpected tenderness. It was a stark contrast to the way she had just ravaged you, and yet it felt just as intoxicating.

Then, without a word, she reached for the deck of tarot cards still scattered across the nearby table. With practiced ease, she shuffled, then drew a single card, turning it toward you.

The Page of Pentacles.

Lilia’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

"How fitting," she mused, tapping the card lightly. "A symbol of knowledge... of boundless potential. Of someone eager to learn, grow, and carve their own path."

She tilted your chin up, dark eyes locking onto yours with quiet pride.

"And I believe, my dear apprentice, that you will do just that."

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My only hope is that Patti LuPone would approve of this fic

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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING TO TRY !! LEWIS H. X FEM!READER X JENSON B. (18+)

summary: after abu dhabi 2016, lewis wanted to try something by being kind. though. "kind" was quite a vague word.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), explicit language, mfm, spitroast, hints of cuckolding?, jenson's retirement celebration if they didn't bs us and if his last entrance wasn't monaco 2017, lewis doesn't care he was beaten by nico rosberg with equal machinery bc he's horny

note: happy new year!

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

lewis knew he should be grieving over his loss against nico in the championship contention. he should have.

but one of his friends, jenson, was retiring as well. he couldn’t not celebrate that. 

and lewis was told to be the… generous friend. generous friend who thought of his friends well enough to know what they wanted to celebrate anything. 

and lewis knew what jenson wanted.

so after the race in abu dhabi, he sent a text to jenson. a simple one that led to curiosity and action. 

‘marriott. suite 2244. be there’

jenson never was one for surprises. and he should have just gone straight to the nightclub instead, but he wanted to see what trick lewis had up his sleeve tonight.

and thus, he hopped into the mclaren and drove to marriott. his heart was thumping with anticipation and curiosity. he’d be so pissed if lewis called him for fuckall. he swore he’d—

as soon as he knocked on the door, he was met with lewis’ sly smile. “come in, mate,” lewis stepped aside for his fellow briton. jenson merely looked at him weirdly as if he was asking, ‘what the fuck are you up to now?’ 

then jenson saw her. he swallowed the lump of his throat, his gaze slowly darting down to her divine figure. 

her breasts were accentuated in the skimpy slip dress she wore. it was a shame they even called it a dress, it was barely covering her. 

still… 

jenson had never seen someone so fucking beautiful before. not until now.

“baby,” jenson almost jumped when lewis called for her, “give him my gift, yeah?” 

gift? what lewis meant was her crawling on her knees towards jenson, peering up at him as a glint of excitement and lust filled her half-lidded eyes. 

like a contagious disease, that lust infected jenson. terribly.

“my word,” jenson muttered softly, his eyes looking down at her on her knees. “do you do this everyday, doll?”

“no,” she giggled softly, her manicured nails tracing the thighs beneath jenson’s strained pants and eventually reaching for the buckle of his belt. “you’d be the first. you mind?”

“please,” jenson murmured, his mouth practically salivating when she began to unbuckle his belt. “little minx.”

the in-between of her thighs throbbed at the two words jenson used on her, her hands itching to grab beneath his fabrics already.

lewis approached the pair and stood behind her, his hand reaching the back of her head and grabbing a handful of her hair.

“you know what to do, yes?” lewis asked, leaving jenson to wonder how lewis and his partner had agreed on this. nobody just willingly shared their girlfriends like that, and it would take a good fucking while for their girlfriends to join in on the fun.

but lewis didn’t seem to mind.

“yeah.” “good girl. suck his cock, baby.” 

and she didn’t seem to mind either.

whatever this position was, jenson was loving it.

“fuck,” jenson writhed, his large hands practically leaving imprints on her hips as his cock pistoned in and out of her drenched pussy. “that good, yeah? you like being fucked by two cocks?”

her voice was muffled, her mouth preoccupied by lewis’ dick. both holes were preoccupied by one briton and another and her brain was beginning to fog after being fucked in between for a while now.

“naughty girl,” smack. jenson continued to fuck himself into her. “naughty naughty girl. you’ve never been fucked like this before, haven’t you?” 

lewis pulled himself out of her mouth, lifting her chin and patting her cheek. “answer him, don’t be rude,” lewis commanded, smirking at the sight of her drool falling out of her mouth. 

“yes- never been,” she stammered stupidly, her brain acting as if she was a pathetic thing to be toyed around.

“yeah? look at you, you look so cock drunk,” jenson laughed, driving himself to her g spot and hearing her cry and scream in desire and need for him. “oh~ my god~! jesus, darling, you cry like an angel needing saving.” 

“pretty sexy, huh?” lewis chuckled darkly, stroking his cock with his free hand while caressing her face with love as if she wasn’t being actively plowed by his former teammate.

lewis was never this generous before. and from the look of her enjoyment, he was certain that this would happen again.

probably not with the same person, but only on certain occasions. 

she’d had to be patient and something grand would have to happen first before she could stick another dick in her needy holes and her mouth. 

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