#i take a pull and you slap it out of my hands into a puddle

[inkyquince]

God your Leighton fic has me nostalgic for the times I could actually find quality father story's that didn't have to put the a step in.... the good old days 🚬

We're sharing that cigarette buddy

NGL I do like step-fuckenings cuz it's the extra layer of this man/woman is goddamns MARRIED and this step-sister/brother is just that damn horny at all the "family" activities the parents are trying to make them do etc etc

But yeah, some of us are actual freakazoids thank you very much

[oreo-creampies]

“𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲!)”

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! Sukuna fucks you, queen of the fae, into a messy cum covered whore

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! queen of the fae!reader, demon king!sukuna (true-form), size kink, hentai logic lets say his monster sized cock fits in your fairy cunt, pussy drunk, overstimulation/hints of mindbreak, cock-drunk, monster sized cocks one has a knot the other is softly ribbed, HUGE HUGE HUGE SIZE KINK, sensitive wings, squirting, degradation/some praise, sukuna is 10ft tall in this one, your pussy is like a pocket of holding and it can take that shit, lets say you have tits even if you don’t for this one, titty fucking, double pentration (cunt and anal), pain kink, restraining/rough manhandling, fucking you in front of a mirror then on the bed, reader has magical abilities, sukun eats your ass a little with one of his hand’s mouth, sukuna is mean but gentle with your wings, pussy slapping, some anal fingering (he doesn't touch you with the hand after), belly bulge from both his cock and cum, squirting his cum when he pushes on your stomach, he covers you in his cum too, fingering

Fey; i get it if you judge me for this one, but in my defense my coochie held me at gun point to write this one. I'm giving you one more warning to use hentai logic with this one!!!

Sukuna strokes the base of your iridescent wings making them stretch out and flutter. Trembling, arching your back, digging your nails into the arm of the hand clenching your waist. Getting off on how Sukuna can hold you up, to use like a cocksleeve, with one massive hand.

“I look so big taking your stupid lil bratty ass from behind, look at yourself, you’re built like a handheld toy for me to use whenever I want.” Sukuna that’s massive, from his height to his hands, to the cocks stretching out both of your sloppy wet holes.

He croons, “You’re hot crying with your tiny wings fluttering n’ your stomach bulging.” Slowly stretching your wings out then pulling you upright by a firm grasp on your throat. Your wings occasionally brush Sukuna’s warm chest.

Your sloppy wet cunt is gushing on his cock, thick warm cum squirts and trickles onto the floor. Both of your wet holes quiver, clenching his thick cocks.

Sukuna moans, “Stupid slutty lil princess make a mess on my cocks, cumming so damn much you’ve made a puddle on the floor.

His four eyes fixating on how his thick knot tugs on your cunt. “Nnnn look at that you’re clenching me too tightly for me to pull out?” You squirm and cry when he sucks on your clit with a hand’s mouth.

Insisting, “Princess? I'm a queen?!��� He licks your cock-stuffed cunt with a hand’s tongue. When he moves his hand away you’re fixating on how your cunt is split into a perfect circle by his thick knot.

Sharply crying when Sukuna pinches your sensitive clit. “Yet you’re taking my cocks like a common whore.” He roughly pulls his knot and cocks out eliciting a needy whine from you when you’re empty.

Dropping you on the massive nearby bed which floats with with a wave of your hand. “It doesn't make me any less a queen.” Spreading your legs for him, “It just means I'm a queen whose a monster cock loving slut.”

Sukuna pins your thighs by your side, lining his bottom cock up and nudging your asshole with his cockhead. Unlike his other cock’s blunt head it has a thinner cone-shaped like tip, which gets thicker after each soft ridge.

He rests his other cock on top of you, covering your cunt and resting between your tits. “And to think you were just takin’ me in your soft lil‘ cunt, I knew fae magic was something else but this is isn't what I expected.” His cock is so big, yet he feels no deeper than your belly button when inside.

Pressing your breasts together, squeezing his fat cock. He grabs your hair yanking your head up, making you look at his cock peeking out from between your tits.

Sukuna groans when you lick his cockhead. “I wonder how much you can take before your magic runs out and you break.” Slowly rolling his hips fucking your soft ass, his cock on top stroking your sensitive clit.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Break me, fuck! Nnn it won't be too long before I'm ready for more! Please! I can't get enough they’re so big, I can't get enough! Please fuck me with both cocks please! Please! Please!” He covers your mouth sticking his fat tongue into your mouth, you can faintly taste yourself.

“What? You’re looking up at me like you want to kiss some different lips.” He smirks gliding himself out of your ass and takes his other cock off your body to let them both hang

He leans down, “Hah you’re too small to properly kiss me.” You lean forward covering his larger lips in kisses, sliding your fingers into his hair.

“I can cover you in kisses.” Sukuna’s lips covers your cheek when he kisses you. Standing up he’s a ten foot monstrous demon and you love it. You love how small you feel beneath him, restrained in a mating press for him to mercilessly fuck both sensitive, sloppy wet holes.

He roughly smacks your cunt, licking your asshole with his thick tongue. The sharp pain rips wonderfully through the pleasure of having your ass ate. Loudly pleading, “Fuck me please, please fuck me. I wanna cum again!”

“Greedy lil brat is a better title for you, after you squirted and made a mess all over my floor you’re begging to cum again.” Another harsh slap to your cunt has you crying.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Im a greedy slut for your thick cocks! I can't help it! It feels like I'm about to go into heat. Please use whatever hole you want my King it gets me off how you use me for your pleasure.” Grabbing the bottle of lube left on the bed, taking his tongue out of your ass.

He pours a lot onto your tight hole then stuffs it in with two thick fingers. Some of the lube drips onto the sheets, “Good girl.” Pumping his fingers faster, smearing the lube. “Call me me your King again.”

He lines himself up, “Please fuck me My King.” He roughly stuffing both holes in a swift thrust. Your body tenses up with a sudden jolt, he’s too big. And being unable run away from the overwhelming intensity magnifies it.

Sukuna demands, “This is my sloppy lil’ cunt to cum in till I get bored of you. Say it!” Putting his weight into your thrust watching your stomach expand when his cock nestles in deep.

“Nnnn!” You can’t focus his words his cock stretching out both holes making the strip of skin between go taunt. You’re a fuck toy for him and it feels so good.

He’s so perfect from cocky smirk, to the condescending way he is looking down at you, and his thick cocks stirring you up pushing you towards cumming again.

He sneers, “Are you already too cock drunk?” Trailing his fingers gently along the top of one of your expanded wings. “Be a good girl and tell me who owns you brat.” Licking your clit with his stomach’s tongue, the pleasure is building rapidly.

Even after squirting on his cock he’s getting you this worked up so fast. It's hard not to with the intense stimulation from Sukuna licking your clit whilst mercilessly fucking you sloppy holes into a loose with his monster cocks.

You whine, “You do my King! ‘S your cunt! Nnn I wanna covered in your cum.” Picking up his pace, even with your magic the bed is rocking. “Fuck you’re so big! Nnnn please please! I'm your good girl.” Grabbing his thick, tattooed forearms, digging your nails in.

“Good girls get cummed in don’t they?” He fondled your breasts, biting and sucking on your nipple. The way he’s toying with your body is wonderful.

You beg him, “We shouldn't, we aren't married, but I want you to! Nnnn! Fuck! You’d cum so much, I would be so full!” Softly clutching the sheets when he flicks your tongue faster, adding a little more pressure. “I wanna feel your warm cum.”

A couple more strokes and your reasoning is quickly crumbling as you cum. All you can think about are his cocks throbbing inside you, filling both holes up. It’s too tempting you're begging with Sukuna, “Please cum! Please cum! Wanna feel your warm thick cum!”

He wonders, “How long did you spend making a spell that can let you take cocks bigger than you should. Or did it come naturally to a slut like you?”

You’re unable to process his question instead you’re loudly moaning, “Please cum! Please! Please! My king! Daddy! Sir! Please! Suukunnna.” Sukuna squeezes your throat and lifts you off the bed. Using his grasp on your throat and his to make you meet his merciless thrusts.

It’s hot to hear Sukuna sound so needy as he whines, “Nn!!! Nn! ‘S tight, wet! Fuck!” He grabs your hair yanking your head back so he can watch you cry while he fucksyou. Keeping eye contact with two eyes while the other two fixate on how your stomach bulges.

Softly growling and grunting “Mine! All fuckin! Nnnnn! Stupid pretty lil’ brat.” His jaw drops with needy loud whines as he loses himself in the intoxicating pleasure of your wet holes clenching his cocks.

There is a crash as the bed hits the floor. Sukuna turns around and lies down on an uneven half-broken bed. He digs his heels into the bed and roughly rutting his hips. “Fuck so damn hot! So fucking small, I wanna make you cry and ruin your tight cunt.”

You lean forward resting your hands on his abs above his stomach’s mouth. “Please cum! Sukuna please!” He softly growls then fucks you harder making it hard for you to string a word together in between your cries.

His brows pinch together and his jaw drops with a loud groan. “C-cum on mmmmm!” It’s impossible to think with the way your soft, soaking-wet holes are gripping and rubbing his cock. Your tears rolling down your beautiful face spurring him on getting him so close to cumming inside you.

“Cry! Louder! Fuck me!” Your cunt spasms as you cum on Sukuna’s thick cock. Sukuna’s eyes roll back, shoulders curl in and he tosses his head back. Whining loudly, “Nnn too-too too tight! Too much! Please!” Thick hot cum spurts in your stomach making it swell.

When he lets your throat go you use your first steady breath to whine “Please?” Sukuna's cheeks flushes a dark shade of pink matching his hair. He stuffs a finger in your mouth and fondles your soft breast, sucking on your nipple.

His cock pulses as more thick cum keeps trickling out. Your aching holes spasm around his cock. It’s wonderful to be so full of Sukuna’s cum and cocks.

He rolls over, towering over you with two massive cocks stuffed in each hole. “Don’t think this means we are done. Im going to clean up then see if your lil’ bratty cunt can take both of my cocks.” Slowly gliding his cocks out, Sukuna pushes on your building stomach making his cum squirts onto his hand and the bed.

Sukuna smears his thick cum over your thighs, tits, and waist. Gliding his finger inside you costing himself in cum which he stuffs into your mouth. “How do we taste?” You groan whilst sucking his thick finger as he holds his dirty hand to your asshole, licking your cum filled asshole.

He pulls his finger out with a wet pop. “Bitter, but I love being filled with and feeling your cum gushing out of me!” Lifting you off the bed by your hair Sukuna dangles you in front of the mirror.

“You look hotter covered and dripping with my cum.” He glides a thick finger into your cunt, pushing more thick cum out of you faster with slow pumps.

Letting your hair go causing you to flutter your wings to afloat. “How long can you keep hovering with those little wings while I'm fingering you?”

Oreo’s m.list

[kurooh]

ROUGH N ROWDY ! — JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. when he’s rough with you, it only gets better and better.

⟡ feat. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, kamo choso.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, various degrees of rough sex, spanking, face fucking, reader wears a skirt in choso’s, scratching, biting, one face slap, clit slapping, overstimulation.

⟡ xoxo, juno: my fav men <3 rbs are appreciated sososo much !!

— GOJO SATORU.

“fuck, so good..” satoru groans loudly, silencing your wails as he pushes your head deeper into the bed. he’s behind you, fucking your pussy with no regard for how rough he’s being.

he grips your hips so hard that his nails have left crescent moons indented into your skin, and it makes you cry into the sheets. satoru could always get a little rough, depending on the day and how you felt about it. but he’s always been really mean when he fucks you like this.

“toru, t-too rough!” you scream into the sheets, hole fluttering with delight when he slaps your clit.

“i don’t think so,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “seems like your pussy likes it, yeah? you’re always such a slut when i fuck you like this.”

your moans and cries are muffled when he slams your head further into the sheets, going so far as to rub your face in the puddle of drool you’ve created.

“aww, you’re sucking me in so greedily. i think i’ll keep slapping your slutty pussy, hm?”

he punctuates his statement with a stinging slap to your clit that has you sobbing, pushing back against him. satoru’s nails rake down your back, leaving puffy marks on your skin.

“satoru, harder!” you finally jerk your head to the side and stare at him, face messy with drool and tears.

his fingers thread through your hair as he adjusts your head and pushes you back down onto the sheets. “oh, but i might as well not touch you, huh? the agreement was to keep your face down, and your ass up.”

— GETO SUGURU.

“oh, come now, you can take it.” suguru’s voice is firm, and he accentuates his point with hard slaps to your ass. whiny, pathetic cries of his name leave your kiss-bruised and bitten lips as your head falls forward, eyes dazedly focusing on his cock pistoning in and out of you.

“s-sugu, please, it’s too much, i—” a slap to your ass, harder than the last, cuts you right off and has you moaning. your ass stings, the skin hot but still ready for more.

“hm, you wanted this, isn’t that right?” he groans, choking on pleasure as he tries to keep his voice still. the sound of his wet thrusts fill the car, the air heavy with sweat and the scent of sex. your fingers scrabble against the car door, nails biting into your palms when he thrusts particularly hard.

suguru’s cock slams into the deepest parts of you, punching moans from your throat every single time. he’s trying hard to be mean, keep his composure, but you’re squeezing him so tightly he can barely form a coherent thought.

“yes! yes, suguru, please go a l-little slower, it’s too much..” drool seeps from the corners of your lips, trickling down your chin as you pick your head up, craning your neck as much as possible.

behind you, suguru is smirking at you, the always loose piece of hair on the left side of his head sticking to his sweaty forehead. the rest of his lengthy tresses are pulled into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, strands escaping with the force of his thrusts.

“no can do, baby,” he whispers, fingers of one hand digging into the softness of your hip. “all that teasing earlier definitely calls for this.”

— NANAMI KENTO.

“i really hate having to work overtime, princess,” kento huffs, yanking your hair and making you arch, head turning towards him.

“i hate it too, kento!” you cry, nodding. more tears fall down your cheeks with the movement, and he lets your hair slip from his hands as he moves to wrap his hand around your neck.

“think i want to pound you so hard we both forget i was late to dinner, hm, angel?” kento’s voice is sweet and steady, although he’s fucking your overstimulated pussy so hard it’s squelching and dripping.

you’re bent over and entirely at his mercy, stuffed full of his cock, the pressure so tight inside you you want to almost run away from it. the large, strong arm wrapped around your entire midsection and his hand on your throat keeps you in place, causing you to press your hands into the wall for support.

you’ve gone dumb on his cock, words slow to form and confused at the amount of times you’ve cum. five? eight? every time you try to form a coherent thought he fucks it away quickly, so you’ve resulted to responding only to what he says and thinking about nothing besides kento. he hasn’t even let himself cum yet, he’s that dead set on making you forget about dinner..

“k-kento, i’m gonna cum again, ah!”

“mhm,” he mumbles into your shoulder, before biting down hard into your skin. with a whiny cry, you sob as you cum again on his thick cock, walls squeezing down on him.

he allows you mercy, staying still as he holds you tightly, hips pausing. the second you loosen up, hole still fluttering, he’s immediately fucking into you again.

“kento, it’s too fucking much, i—”

he stands straight, yanking your hair so you’ll look back at him with that pretty, teary face of yours.

“no,” kento says firmly, lightly slapping your cheek. “you can still cum a few more times.”

— FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“fuuuck, s’good,” toji tightens his grip on the back of your head, fingers twisting hard in your hair. he pounds your throat at an unforgiving face, his hips rough and demanding as his tip plows into the back of your throat.

“takin’ it like a damn champ.. good fuckin’ girl.” he groans, his voice raspy as he tosses his head back. tears pour down your cheeks as he completely stuffs your mouth full with his cock, and you rake your eyes up and down his shirtless chest before settling on his face.

a thin sheen of sweat gleams on his well-muscled chest, heaving while his abs clench. distracted by his attractive body, you slowly, unconsciously start to back off his cock.

“nuh uh,” toji grits, swiftly yanking you back into place and shoving his cock deeply down your throat, “i haven’t cum yet.”

you gag loudly, more tears falling from your pretty eyes. but, toji doesn’t really give a damn — he draws his hips back and shoves them forward before he’s back to the tempo he’d set before. you spread your knees, sliding a hand between your thighs and pressing at your clit through soaked panties.

he scoffs, caught between a laugh and a raspy moan, and smirks. “love it when you’re a slut for my fuckin’ cock. that’s real good..”

— KAMO CHOSO.

your back hits the wall, and a sharp crack of pain resonates through your body before choso’s pouncing on you, yanking your skirt up your thighs without hesitation.

“c-choso, slow down!” you gasp, but he just spreads your legs and slides his pants down. “my skirt’s not even off yet, wait—”

“mm mm, need this. need you.” choso leaves no room for discussion as he slots himself against you, hot and hard and pressing between your legs. “it’s been too damn long,” he states, tugging and rolling your shirt up to your shoulders.

his large palms smooth against your thighs, and he looks into your eyes and then shifts his gaze to your neck. “mhm, please..” is all you answer, voice soft as your hips buck into his own.

choso’s hand lands on your neck and he digs his fingers into the sides, not gripping yet, and tugs your soaked panties to the side. then he guides his cock between your folds, and shoves himself right inside you. your leg lifts, and he holds it tightly at his side, keeping you spread open.

as you gasp “choso!” he grips your neck hard, effectively choking you and making your eyes roll right back. with his lips pulled back and his teeth catching the low light of the room, he leans in towards your tits. teeth dig into your skin as he bites your nipple sharply, and your chest bounces as you reel back in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“oh, that hurts like hell,” you groan, slipping a hand into his messy hair and undoing his spiky buns; then you push him in. “bite me harder.”

choso’s grip on your neck tightens further, teeth baring down on your other tit in a flurry of bites, his hips slamming into you all the while.

you choke, garbling out some sort of expletive, and his thrusts are so fast and hard that you consider that they sting just a little. the thought of the little shocks of pain all over has you clenching on his cock like a vice, growing wetter and wetter.

his groan into your tits is whiny, and then he’s spasming and filling you with all his cum.

choso finally tugs himself off your tits, lips shining with drool. looking down, you see that your tits are bruised and fresh marks are blooming across your skin. cum starts to drip down his cock, and yet he still pushes himself into you with a whine. but he still stays hard inside of you — he loves to throw you around, mark you up, and use you like a fucking fleshlight, even though it means overstimulating himself too.

[infictionalwonderland]

all the bau meeting spencer’s badass gf who drives a motorcycle, has tattoos, dresses like a mob wife!!!! pls pls pls i need to read their reactions to bby boy pulling us

i can definitely do that for you !!

“You have to be nice.” JJ stared imploringly at Derek who looked back at her in shock across their booth in the bar, falling dramatically back into his seat.

“Nic—I’ll be more than nice.” He assured with the beginnings of a mischievous grin, only for Emily to slap him across the back of the head. “Hey!”

“I bet she’ll be so cute! Like a mini female Spencer all bundled up in fluffy cardigans and—aww I bet she’ll have big adorable glasses.” Penelope gushed excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat.

The sound of a motorcycle roaring distracted them and they all looked out of the window in that general curiosity that people get upon hearing a motorcycle, who was the potential hottie driving it.

Penelope gasped loudly, her drink splashing as it clanked against the wooden surface. Emily and JJ’s mouths dropped open, eyes popping out of their skulls dramatically. Derek genuinely felt lightheaded as he watched the scene before him—grasping desperately at the edge of the booth. Rossi’s eyebrows arched and he shook his head, chuckling slightly to himself. Hotch merely stared, though a smirk was twitching at his lips.

“Absolutely not—“

“What? HOW—“

“It’s a clone. An alien!”

The team’s startled chatter broke off as Penelope shushed them all loudly: everyone watched as their Spencer, boy genius, Reid got off of the back of the motorcycle, removing his arms from around the waist of the breathtakingly gorgeous girl. He offered her his hand as he stood in front of her and she rolled her eyes fondly at him, taking it. When she stood, he unzipped her motorcycle jacket for her and eased it off her shoulders—revealing a silky black halter dress, her arms scattered in tattoos, as were her thighs. Hoops dangled from her ears, red bottoms on her feet, nails manicured and hands adorned in rings.

Derek literally flopped back into his seat, starstruck.

All of them watched, heads turned accordingly to never stop looking at the pair of you (mostly you), as Spencer folded your jacket over one arm before taking your hand in his other as you both walked to the entrance—they could see he was rambling and you stared up at him, a charmed smile on perfectly painted lips.

“I—“ Emily sucked in a breath, flustered, “they’re coming now—act natural.”

At her hiss, Penelope purposefully fell back into what she thought was a more relaxed position, fluffing her hair. JJ awkwardly straightened out her clothes, leg bouncing. Emily leaned over the table ‘casually’ swirling her drink and Derek positioned himself with a broad arm flexed on the windowsill, looking out the dirty screen of the bar window with a smoulder.

Hotch looked at them all and silently shook his head, Rossi chucked silently at his face of disappointment.

The team heard the click of your heels approaching and vague remnants of your conversation with him that led Spencer to giggling.

Shocked looks were exchanged and Penelope looked like she was going to melt into a gooey puddle of awwwww.

“Hello everyone!” Spencer chirped as he reached their table, happier and more relaxed than they’d ever seen him be. “It’s nice to see you all—this-this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

“Hi.” Your voice was silky smooth and Penelope eyed your immovable un-smudged lip-combo with admiration. “It really is a pleasure to meet all of you.”

“The pleasure is absolutely all mi—“ Derek stopped, his sentence turning into a series of harsh wheezes as both Emily and JJ elbowed him in either side.

You blinked at them.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” He continued in a pained voice, collapsed dramatically into his seat.

JJ and Emily rolled their eyes.

“Hi! It is so so so cool to finally meet you—I’m Penelope and you are even prettier than Spencer described and, believe me, your doctor man used every ounce of this thick vocabulary to compliment you.”

You quirked a grin at the excited redhead in front on you, looking teasingly over at your boyfriend who was blushing bright red but he grinned shyly back at you.

“David Rossi.” The Italian introduced himself formally as you and Spencer sat down in the booth, opposite him. “I always knew Spencer was a man of good taste.” He gave you a mischievous smile.

“I would argue that we both have great taste.” You winked back, settling into your boyfriend’s side.

The team watched the easy way that Spencer allowed you into his space, the way in which he wrapped his arms around your waist with a comfortability they’d never seen before and the urge to smile was simply too much to ignore.

“I just want to say, If the genius ever messes up. .” Emily trailed off, making a phone with her hands and holding it against her ear, she mouthed ‘call me’ at you.

As laughter left your smirking lips, you looked up at your boyfriend who shook his head playfully down at you—you turned your head to kiss his cheek briefly, smiling up at him.

“I’ll be sure to give you a ring.” You promised her as the laughter around the quietened slightly.

“And me!” Morgan piped up happily only to groan unhappily again as JJ slapped him over the head.

“Don’t call Morgan.” JJ advised, leaning across the table as though to confide a secret in you, voice lowering to a mock whisper, “he’s got an STD he refuses to get rid off.”

“LIES AND SLANDER.”

“Not on his good name.” Penelope joined in, giggling all the while.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—I’m Aaron Hotchner.” Your boyfriend’s boss introduced himself to you as everyone got sucked into taking the piss out of Derek.

“It’s lovely to meet you Hotch.” You replied kindly, taking the name you’d heard them all call him.

“Please,” Aaron paused briefly, glancing at Spencer with a minuscule smirk, “call me Aaron.”

You nodded with an unaware smile but Spencer’s mouth dropped as his boss to a sip of his drink to hide his smirk, not him too.

[2tarbell]

i need some blue collar rafe pls. i love that man

can u pls do something with like sweetheart!reader !!

maybe like some slow soft passionate sex before he has to go to work at like 5am

and it’s jus so loving n aww ☺️

anyways i love u and ur mind mwah mwah

BLUECOLLAR!RAFE + SWEETHEART!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

it was no secret that rafe had a soft spot for you. the hardworking, calloused man melted into a puddle for those puppy eyes and that little pout.

he knew you hated when he left, but you’d hate it even more if he didn’t wake you up to say goodbye. what started as kisses on the way out turned into sliding his morning wood into your warmth — watching with sleep glazed eyes as the intrusion slowly woke you.

now he can’t even get out of bed without you pulling on his strong arm, dreamy voice begging for him to stay. you were half asleep, eyes still practically closed, but he couldn’t do anything other than indulge you.

it was how you found yourself being spilt in half at 3:45 am, an hour before he needed to be on the road ‘abandoning you’. rafe never laughed at that joke.

he was holding himself above you, forearms caging in your head. with your hair all disheveled and practically drooling — he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“fuck, how’re you so tight?” he heaved.

his gravelly words raised goosebumps across your pleasure-fuzzy, warm body. you were always so pliant this early, letting him stretch your legs over his muscular shoulders. the deeper press of his cock to your g-spot left you unable to speak coherently.

your hands clutched at his head, holding him close and brushing your soft lips against his with every precise thrust. rafe loved you like this — hips canting and so desperate for release, for him to stay.

“please, daddy— please—“

his hips stayed slapping against yours, the creamy ring of your arousal creating a sopping sound. his pubic bone kept hitting your clit perfectly and pulled whines from you. swollen lips letting out a hiccup when he thrusts in to the hilt.

rafe hummed, a low sound in acknowledgment of your state. he lifts his hand to your mouth, your lips parting against the intrusion of his thumb, taking it in to the knuckle.

“god, you’re takin’ me so well,” he mutters, his hips rolling against yours, “bein’ so good… so perfect for me.”

you let out a garbled moan, eyes drooping from sleepiness and the pleasure he was providing. he just knew — knew how to make you unravel and turn dumb.

sucking on his thumb eagerly as you could manage, languid from sleep and the kiss of his mushroom head against your cervix. with a pop he pulled the digit from your mouth, sliding between your bodies and rolling it over your puffy clit. the gathered spit mixed with the sparkling sheen of your arousal, making the flicks of his thumb smooth and effortless.

“oh my god—!”

you choked out, head diving back into the pillow behind you as his slow, deep thrusts make that coil in your tummy feel almost too tight. the feeling all consuming and unfamiliar.

rafe takes the advantage to sit up on his knees, wrapping a large hand around your throat — tight enough to let you know he’s there, he’s got you.

“mmh, i know, shhh — oh, shit — look at that…”

his hand slides around to the back of your neck, tilting your head down to see what he sees. you watch dumbly as you squirt all over him, coating his abs and dick with your cum.

it’s like you’re out of your body, watching yourself come undone while your hearing goes fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm.

suddenly flooded with warmth as his pants get more whiny, indicating his own imminent release. he leans down, pressing his forehead tightly to yours and giving a few more thrusts for good measure — squelch sounds punctuating each inward movement.

he shudders against you, feeling tingly from the overstimulation of your pussy still clenching around him. he huffs, trying to catch his breath and shifts your leg off shoulder. you whine lowly at the loss of his weight on you, eyes fluttering and struggling to focus on him.

with a ‘okay, shh, kid’, he reaches out, wrapping his arms tight around your waist, leaning down on you again.

your small voice, already halfway back to dreamland, reached his ears in a contented sigh, “looove you, daddy…”

“mmh, i love you, my messy girl,” his teasing voice made a lazy smile spread across your face, wrapping your limbs all around him. trying to keep him as close as possible.

kisses are peppered along your neck, trailing to your lips with a playful smack. your giggles filled the space, light and airy in the quiet of your shared bedroom.

rafe smirked and pressed his hips forward into yours, swallowing the heaving sound you let out as his cock rubs against your pulsing walls. he spoke lowly against your mouth, pushing in and out — skin sticking to yours.

“how ‘bout… you squirt f’me again and i’ll think ‘bout callin’ out...”

[merakidoll]

this is apart of my pen pal!gojo series! warnings : nickname gogo used, riding, lactation, reader is pregnant, chubby, and a bimbo!

over the year that gojo was released from prison, your penpal quickly became your boyfriend, to now fiancé/ baby daddy! gojo was very quick with impregnating you loving how this sealed your fate to him, how now you had absolutely no excuse to be his. “go! let’s get ice cream!” you exclaimed pointing towards the small stand that had a young man standing there. he walked stiffly behind you, his much larger hand holding yours as he stood back holding your tote, and watching as you told the man exactly what you wanted.

gojo had found that with his obsession came lots of observing. he watched the man eye your large breast as he scoop the strawberry delight into the cone, his hand subconsciously pushing towards you more and wrapping around your belly. “so, what brings you here” gojo couldn’t hide the scoff that came from him, in his mind he was telling the man off, to which he knew you hated when he was rude to people.

you looked back at the large man with a pout, a soft ‘calm down i’m yours’, then turned back with a soft smile. “i wanted to see all the tables people had, we love small festivals!” you took your ice cream and handed him the bill expecting him to take it, but gojo knew he wasn’t - he knew he was gonna touch your hand, - caress your brown skin and tell you “it’s on the house gorgeous”.

now, gojo had many plans come that night. him pulling you away from the festival and to the car quickly driving home - to which he would be fuming. and the only thing that could ever calm him was you. “gogo, you’re all that m-matters to me” your pussy wrapped deliciously around him, your small bounces while he sucked on your leaking breast, crystal blue eyes shut and savoring all of your bodily flavor. he unlatched his salivating mouth and looked up at you with the sweetest eyes.

“only mine?” he bucked into your cunt, spreading your cheeks and bringing his mouth back to your brown nipple that to his eyes were screaming for attention. “o-only yours gojo, my sweet b-boyymm” at the sound of your words gojo’s angry vanished. the milk from your breast was already sizzling the fire within; but your words made him melt into a puddle. you bounceed on him, letting him hear all of your pretty sounds and the feeling of you pussy tighten around him as you came. “who’s pussy doll?” he slapped your ass, watching your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head. stimulation of him still moving as you orgasmed making you go wild.

“y-yours! y-yours gojo!” he smiled sisterly, bucking into you more, laying your head on his broad shoulder as he rubbed your back filling your pussy with his thick seamen. “mmh, and this dick is all yours baby.” he kissed your cheek becoming still and enjoying the closeness of cockwarming. he ignored the way your pussy dripped down onto him, the mix of you both combine. he enjoyed the soft snores you gave and deep sighs into the silence. all while his mind ran wild with thoughts. thoughts of when he put you into your sheared bed, after a nice bath how he’d be making a quick outing. to the man who deared try to flirt with you; especially in front of him.

[mattsstarlet]

⋆˚࿔ pearl ⟢

camgirl!reader gets overstimulated by pornstar!matt and her camgirl!friend.

contains: smut (p in v), unprotected sex, threesome (male + 2 females), overstimulation, degradation if you squint, use of vibrator, squirting.

IMPORTANT NOTE: camgirl!friend is exclusively for the girls only, this is a one time thing. also i’m bi, so yes. i am allowed to write this 😊

“can you give us one more?” pearl asked softly in your ear, brushing the strands away from your sweaty forehead, kissing your temple. you laid your naked back against her bra covered chest, panting and sobbing as matt continued to fuck you through your third orgasm.

her hands explored your spent body, cupping your tits and playing with them, squeezing them ever so gently. her gaze flickered over to matt’s stoic face, his jaw clenched as she kissed your neck.

“someone looks angry.” she taunted, giggling in your ear, cupping your chin and angling your head to brush her lips against yours. “you’re my pretty slut.” she whispered, placing a light peck.

matt chuckled deeply, shaking his head in amusement, a lopsided grin appeared on his lips as he slowed his pace, giving you deep and taunting thrusts that made your toes curl. pearl pulled away, reaching for the wand beside her and clicking the ‘on’ button, a loud buzz harmonizing with your cries and the sound of skin clapping.

“shiiiit— there we go.” he groaned, watching you jump as the vibrator came in contact with your clit, your gummy walls fluttering around his cock. your eyes rolled back, your mouth hanging low as pearl continued to grope your tit with her free hand. “that’s my sweet girl.”

“what’s it gotta take for you to be louder hm?” she muttered, her thumb hovering over the ‘+’ button on the wand. her eyes flickered over to your laptop, your chat box going absolutely crazy, filled with many compliments and ‘do this’ or ‘do that’. she flashed a toothy grin as she saw the amount of money that was flowing in— all tips were over a hundred.

“oh my god,” you sobbed, your thighs trembling as pearl sped up the toy two volumes up, wanting to hear your overstimulated cries.

“oh i’m sorry.” she fake cooed, running the wand up and down your abused cunt, causing matt to grunt each time the vibrations touched his dick. “you weren’t being loud enough, angel.”

you whined, your words exiting your lips in a slurring mess with drool practically coating your chin. your head felt fuzzy and empty, your vision blurring away from the bubble of tears.

matt moaned at the sight of you in a puddle, reaching forward laying his palm flat on your lower belly, feeling himself pump into you. “that’s m’dick in there, baby. all up in ya guts.”

“mm-hm— oh!— m’cumming.” you cried out, your hips lifting themselves up and rutting them against matt’s cock, your body almost twitching at the high vibrations of the wand.

pearl let out a giggle from her spot behind you, speeding up the intensity once more. “show ‘em what a messy slut you are.” she demanded, letting the toy buzz on your overstimulated, sensitive bud.

a series of curses left your mouth as your pussy spasmed on matt’s length, feeling the knot in your core explode. white, creamy paint adorned the base of his cock before squirting out clear, water-like fluid, wetting the messy sheets underneath you.

matt followed right after, filling your insides with each drop of his cum, his balls slapping against your skin, emptying out his load.

pearl helped you ride out your guys’ high, pressing the wand between you both. “c-can’t… s’too much.” you whined out, sighing in relief as she turned it off.

matt pulled out, watching his cum ooze out of your sloppy cunt before manhandling you onto your tummy, positioning you between pearl’s legs.

“eat her pussy while i fuck you again. shut her up f’me, baby.”

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

dedicated to my ‘😏’ anon and all the bi girlies <3

credits here.

[kalystatheevil]

picture scaramouche bent over, hands tied behind his back, face pressed to a coffee table with you holding him from behind

tw: cursing, cnc, praise, humiliation, dom reader, unhealthy use of ellipses; (amab reader), 18+

you rub your glistening cock between scaramouche's spread asscheeks, almost moaning from the view alone. your precum is already leaking into the cracks, moistening them prettily.

"fuck, scara… what did i tell you, huh?" a sharp slap resounds, and scaramouche's right cheek immediately starts turning pinkish. the boy grits his teeth.

"go to hell you fucking psycho."

"mhhh…" your thumbs leave little indents in the supple skin of his ass. between them, a throbbing hole clenches nervously. "a psycho, am i."

scaramouche moans as you push the tip past the rim. you're sure he didn't mean to, but it still escaped his lips. slowly, you push just the tip in and out, watching intently as the skin spreads around the gland, swallowing it greedily.

"you stretch so beautifully, scara," you coo, a soft blush on your face. "so incredibly beautiful"

"stop— stop looking!" scaramouche growls. "it's—" he gasps loudly when the tip enters him yet again, face already red from all the blood gathering in his head.

"it's what, scara..."

"it's— ugly…"

at this, you click your tongue and stop. "ugly?"

scaramouche becomes angry, deflecting from his quickly rising shame. "yes, ugly. seriously, stop with this stupid game you're playing, i don't need you to act like you're into th—"

you thrust into him, deep and hard. scaramouche's words are lost in a strangled gurgle as his eyes roll back.

"it seems i need to fuck that thought out of you."

with one roll of your hands, you shorten the rope connected to his tied wrists, tugging them upwards. slowly, you start to roll your hips back, watching as the rim catches and slides over your cock. you moan. "aah, scara… you look so, so pretty like this"

"fuck… you… ngh— a-aahn…"

you breathe heavily. "fuck. fuck, scara. you take me so well. look at you, moaning like a slut..."

"shut— shut up. fuck. i'll kill you. i swear i'll fucking kill y— MGH!" you slam back into him. any further protest is drowned by the sound of thighs hitting flesh in sharp slaps as you start pounding into him. harder and harder you thrust back inside, needing to reach deeper, faster, harder.

it doesn't take long for scaramouche to lose his composure. on the surface of the coffee table, he rolls his head almost limply to the side. his eyes are blurry with pleasure, but still he tries to look at you out of the corner of his eye - to make you see exactly what you are doing to him.

you breathe a laugh, panting hard. under scaramouche's mouth, a steadily growing puddle of drool forms. he twitches, legs giving in.

you grab his hips so hard his skin will certainly bruise. scaramouche is not yet allowed to stop taking you. you stare and stare, fucking him until the world starts to tilt, until your cock feels numb from sheer pleasure, until you start twitching so hard that it's visible on the front of scaramouche's stomach—

you cum hard, gasping for air. white stars form in your vision, and you can feel your hands tremble on his soft skin.

"haha…" you laugh, out of breath. under you, scaramouche whimpers quietly.

after a moment, you pull out slowly. a thick line of cum connects the tip of your still slightly twitching cock with scaramouche's warm, fluttering hole. "ahh… fuck. my cum… hahaha… deep… deep inside you…"

scaramouche lets out another whine. his hole clenches before releasing a white drop of liquid. he whimpers, trying to say something.

"mh?" you ask, using your thumb to smear the droplet around the throbbing hole. "speak up, scara…"

amidst his wordless whimpers, you push your thumb inside and laugh again, feeling scaramouche milking it powerlessly.

"i wonder when you came…"

"mmglh…" scaramouche answers. when something warm touches his freely leaking cock, he flinches lightly. a moan tumbles over his lips. with the palm of your hand, you rub the tip of his soft erection.

"or rather… how many times." scaramouche's eyes slowly roll backwards. with a grin, you raise your hand back up and glide your tongue over the palm, humming appreciatively at the taste. "yum ~"

"no…more…" scaramouche finally breathes. "can't…" your arm slings around his belly. with ease, you lift him up. "ahn—"

"no more? no more, scara?"

"no... more..."

"but baby..." you place a soft kiss on his temple.

"we were just getting started."

[formatting shamelessly stolen from scara smut writer @hanxku]

[calebsmoon]

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — caleb

↳ unedited ☆ nsfw ! ☆ mdni

your eyes roll back into your head as your third orgasm rakes through your sweaty and exhausted body. legs trembling and hands reaching for something to anchor yourself to, caleb helps you ride out your orgasm with harsh and fast thrusts.

filthy sounds rake the room as you lean against the counter for support. caleb's hips rutting at you like a lifeline. "c-caleb, slow down, please," you gasp, begging as your orgasm spasms out, leaving you a sensitive mess. your free hand, pressing flat against the countertop to hold yourself steady. you knew caleb wouldn't let you buckle onto the floor, but it kept you grounded by feeling the cold surface against your burning body.

"take it like a good girl, i know you can do it." he commands, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you harder to meet his brutal thrusts. he was leaving angry red marks in his awake, and it sparked a sinister satisfaction in him seeing all his hand prints and teeth marks petal your skin like the first fallen leaves of autumn.

he was claiming you, making sure those bastards knew you were his, and his alone. and he wasn't sharing you with anyone. especially not when he alone could make you this reactive to him. barely a few deep thrusts later your body had already started builing up another coil in your stomach, loving how his dick felt stroking your walls and filling you to the brim with his thick and veiny cock.

"caleb~" you mewl as he buries himself balls deep into your wet and squelching cunt, letting your walls tighten around him and impirts himself on you as if he was some desperate animal in heat. but god, he couldn't help it. seeing his pretty girl smiling and laughing with other men made him want to remind you that no one could make you feel like he did, and no one will ever get to touch you like he's touching you right now. and no one knew your body, soul, and mind like he did.

"you like that huh, my good girl?" he purrs dangerously, slowing his thrusts to become slow and deep, hitting exactly the same spot that made you see stars each time his hips met the back of your ass. "ngh caleb f-faster," you practically beg, wanting the previous pace and friction back.

a slap echoes through the air as he lands a soft yet shocking hit to the globes of your ass. his large hand immediately coming to soothe over the burning skin. "count" he commands roughly, striking your ass a second time as you writhe and beg from him to speed up his thrust and making you cum for the fourth time.

"two" you gasp out your mind numbing as his fat tip nuzzles against your womb, your legs wobbly and your mouth drooling shamelessly like a cock drunk whore. his hand strikes again hitting a little bit harder making you jolt, but it shamelessly sends a shiver through your body and straight to your needy pussy. "f-fuck caleb three!" you practically shout your ass arching into his thrusts more.

his hand snakes up from your ass, moving across your arched back and right to the back of your neck before he applies pressure there, encircling his long fingers around your neck. "who makes this pretty pussy feel good?" he snarls dangerously, his mouth burning hot against your ear as he pulls your neck back, bringing the back of your head to rest against his chest. he teases you with a few fast strokes before slowing down again at a painful pace that your impatience and need could not handle.

"you!" you gasp out, your words slurring together. "only you do" you repeat your head rocking back to rest on his chiseled chest as he does a deep sensual thrust right up in an angle that makes your toes press up from the floor and your body melt like a puddle.

he nibbles and licks at your earlobe, enticing more lewd sounds of you. your moans and cute gasps filling your apartment in the dead of the night, and you knew for a fact that the neighbours could make out exactly what was happening.

his other hand that gripped at your hip, slides up to your stomach, the cold metalix feeling of his mechanical arm leaves a trail of awareness on your hot skin. he presses down at the perfect spot, feeling his cock hit that spot perfectly.

"who do you belong to?" he coos, but his voice is low and dangerous and although he has no intention of hurting you, he would burn anyone else that dared lay a finger on a strand of your hair. you were his. his to protect, his to love, his to keep. and you were only his.

" 'm yours," you cry out your hand, covering his mechanical one that presses against your stomach. "good girl," he praises before pressing a wet kiss to the side of your neck, his teeth sinking in lightly to leave a mark in its wake.

satisfied with your replies, caleb gives in to your pleas, speeding up his pace into his fast thrusts. hammering into you as your skin slaps against one another in a tense motion. "that's it my good girl you can do it, cum for me" he demands his teeth nibbling any of your exposed skin he could get to. he wanted the world to see that he owned you, and that he was the only one that could touch you like this and make you come undone.

it was pathetic but as his praise registered in your fucked out brain, your body sent itself into overdrive letting your fourth orgasm crash down on you. his hips rock against yours, filling your cunt with his seed as his dick twitches between your warm walls . as you took laboured breaths to steady yourself you could tell he wasn't softening as he stayed nestled in your cunt. "caleb," you whimper out hazily. you knew caleb was nowhere done with you tonight.

[xoxochb]

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

a near heart attack the moment you awake from slumber was not how you wanted to start the day.

your body has been pushed to the very edge of the bed, on the verge of falling off. scared, you turn around to your side only to be met with a puddle of drool covering both percy’s chin and a large portion of the sheets.

“holy shit…” you murmur under your breath.

you sit upwards. instinctively, percy’s arm tightens around your waist. you remove it from your frame and await his eyes fluttering open. it’s only a few moments without feeling you beneath his fingertips that he wakes.

“I am going to kill you.”

his eyes squint, adjusting to the light of morning. you slap his head.

“what…?” his voice is raspy. you’re very glad you’re not standing right now.

“you drooled all over! and you took up the entire bed, I was about to fall off!”

he manages to sit up alongside you, his hand falling to the pool of his saliva that had fell onto the sheets. he pulls it back quickly.

“oh. sorry ‘bout that, sweet girl.” he smirks.

you hit his head again.

“I’m not laying back down until that is rectified.”

he frowns. but grabs a tissue from the bedside table and begins to sloppily wipe away his drool. it manages to contain about ninety-nine percent of it before he throws the tissue away.

“happy now, sweet girl?”

“yes, thank you.”

his smile returns. he takes your hand and places it on his chest, snaking his own arm around your waist.

“it’s cold in here,” you complain.

“that,” percy begins. his index runs along your spine. “is because you don’t have any clothes on.”

you scowl. “if I don’t need to wear clothes I don’t want to wear clothes.”

“I’m not complaining, sweet girl— just pointing it out.” he holds his unoccupied hand up defensively.

you slide farther against him to prevent yourself from falling off the edge. you do recall once when you had fallen because throughout the course of the night percy had subconsciously spread out into a position impossible for the both of you to fit.

you haven’t let that go since then.

“I don’t think I like sleeping with you very much.”

“awww, I thought you loved my—”

you place a finger to his lips with a disapproving look. “no.”

he nips at your finger until you pull it away. but his hand takes it back and he presses a kiss to it this time, trailing downwards to your palm, the back of your hand, and your wrist before placing your palm over his heartbeat.

it’s serene.

and unlike how you woke up, for the next five minutes you were able to enjoy peace and quiet! how great is that?

[yeyinde]

I really need Simon to fuck my throat

yeah. oh, yeah. like, fucks your throat so raw you have to call in sick the next day. fishermen friend's + tamarack tea + honey, ginger, lemon and tumeric on rotation because he likes to grab you by the scruff of your neck, feed his cock into you until his head hits the back, and just grind. loves it when you can't talk the next day, when your voice is hoarse and reedy. gets off more on listening to people coo at you. poor thing, you sound so awful. you must be sick, then, eh? be sure to drink plenty -

and yeah, you have. because when he wants to fuck your face, when he wants your mouth on his cock, he makes a feast out of it. an all day event. cums once on your tongue, down your throat, over your face. your chest.

makes a mess out of from the beginning. pulls out after sinking in as deep as he can go, and then slaps his cock across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose. getting you wet with pre-cum and spit. mockingly tilts his head and tells you how pretty you look with cum dripping down your cheeks.

brushes his thumb over the bulge of your cheeks, feels himself through the skin. it seems soft on its face, but you know Simon by now. it's a warning. he speeds up until his balls are slapping against your chin hard enough to sting. pushes you down, down, down until the thick patch of coarse hair at the base tickles your nose. keeps going, too, until every inch is swallowed down. holds you like that, hand pinching the skin of your nape, and grinds his cock into your mouth until your hands slap his thighs, until you choke.

and then he starts again. pulls out and makes you hold your tongue out for him as he fists his cock in his hand. slides in slow. so slow. giving you enough time to think you're in control before thrusting in hard enough that you see stars when your nose bumps into his groin.

he's chatty, too. never shuts up. you'd think it would be a silent affair, giving who he is, but no. he's foul as he looms over you, huffing into the fabric of his mask, grinding his hips against your face. made for this, for his cock. look at you. gagging for it. you belong on your knees for him, don't you? taking his cock.

and when you get whiny - overstimulated, tired, jaw aching, mouth sour - he clucks his tongue, pulls out, and pinches your nose shut. slides his cock over your tongue, lips, cheeks as you heave for air with your mouth wide open. cums on your tongue, and makes you sit on your knees like that while he reclines on the couch, fingers petting over your head. flipping through the channels as you struggle not to spill a single drop.

is always sure to take a picture, too. a new screensaver with you in a terrible state, all sloppy and messy. tongue sticking out of your mouth, cradling a puddle of his cum.

terrible man.

[xochosoxo]

virgin!choso ✮| headcannons

chosoxfem!reader

MDNI -> warnings: afab reader (but anyone can read yk), virginchoso! (cherry popping /losing his viginity), smoking weed, making out, blowjobs, jerking off, mastubation, voyeurism, kinda dom reader (teasing choso), reader and choso fight for dominacr basically,face sitting, pussy licking, cowgirl, crying from pleasure, accidentaly creampie (choso cums inside of her by accident lol. please practice safe sex!)

a/n: thank you so much for the support on my last headcannon :((( i love yall so much pls enjoy virgin!choso (i love him so much i have brainrot)

virgin!choso who takes responsibility, as an older brother to house yuuji. this also means that he also is responsible for yuji's friends whenever they come over.

virgin!choso who said yes when his younger brother asked if he could host a movie night at the house. he relunctantly says yes.

virgin!choso like the good brother he is, accompanies yuji when he goes out to buy snacks and drinks for the event later in the evening. choso sneaks out of the store to buy some weed so he can just relax when he locks himself in his room later.

virgin!choso who waits until all of yuji's friends arrive, sitting on the couch and waving as megumi, nobara and junpei walk through the door.

virgin!choso who cant stop staring at you when you walk in. yuji greets you with a hug and the smile that is displayed across your face makes choso blush unexpectedly. (nobara saw it but kept it to herself)

virgin!choso who gets even more flustered when you sit right next him. you smell like strawberry and vanilla and oh, how he wishes he could just keep sitting next to you. youre intoxicating.

virgin!choso who quickly realizes that he's attracted to his younger brother's friend so he quickly removes himself from the group and escapes up the stairs, making sure the door to his room is locked.

virgin!choso who takes out a preroll, lights it and inhales the smoke, letting the creeping sensation of the weed take effect.

virgin!choso who lies down on his bed and closes his eyes. unfortuntaly, he hasnt recovered from you yet so again, his face starts to redden.

virgin!choso who takes a few more hits of the joint to take his mind off you but you are a hard thing to forget. he remembers the way you smile and the way you introduced yourself to him but he could hardly remember anything you had said since all he was focusing on was the shape of your lips. how pouty they were, how glossy they were.

virgin!choso who remembers what youre wearing. it was a simple tanktop but he could see the corners of your bra peaking out from the top. something that had choso's mind racing with not-so-innocent thoughts.

virgin!choso who re-imagines your lips joined with his, making out passionately. he then imagines your lips on his cock. how would they look if your tongue was swirling around his tip as well?

virgin!choso who can feel his cock strain against his boxers. its a tightness he cannot ignore. he pulls down his sweatpants to reveal the large buldge under it."fuck." he mutters under his breath. he sucks his teeth in while removing his boxers. his thick cock springs free, slapping his stomach. choso watches as the senstive, pink tip leaks a clear fluid.

virgin!choso who lightly grasps his cock, stroking it slowly. he's panting steadily as he imagines how your hand would feel around him. he groans quietly.

virgin!choso who's thoughts get even dirtier, stroking faster as he visualizes your warm cunt surrounding him. he sees you on top of him, bouncing on his length as your soft tits bounce with the rhythm. at this point, he's forgetten about the group downstairs. he's moaning like a bitch, gasping at the feeling of ecstasy.

virgin!choso who is unable to recognize that you are right against the other side his door, feeling a puddle of warmth pool in your panties. you were supposed to just grab something from yuji's room and come back downstairs however, you couldnt ignore the loud moaning from his older brother's room.

you slowly slip your hand down your jeans. your cold hands interacting with your sex makes you gasp as you circle your sensitive clit. you hide your moans through strained breathing. "mmmhf..." you accidentally let out, hoping the man on the other side of the door didnt hear you.

virgin!choso who hears a muffled sound at his door. it startles him, letting go of his hard on.

virgin!choso who quickly pulls up his boxers and sweatpants before unlocking his door to see you, red in the face with eyes watering. he scans his eyes down your figure to see your hand in your pants. you quickly remove it.

virgin!choso who looks at you in surprise before asking. "did you hear me?" he blushes when you nod.

"im sorr-" you try to get out before he interrupts you by pulling your free hand towards his room. he locks the door behind you.

youre frozen in place, not knowing if the man in front of you would confront you about the situation.

instead, he leans towards you, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment .“do you need…help?” he whispers. you look up at him in surprise.

virgin!choso’s eyes widen when you nod, before kissing him gently. he can feel your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. he could feel his overly sensitive cock rub against the fabric of his boxers, making him groan into the kiss.

virgin!choso falls back onto his bed as a result of you pushing him. the kiss was sloppy and spit dripped down your chins. he can tell you were enjoying it, grinding against his hard-on. you finally let go of the kiss before hastily removing your jeans and underwear.

you get on top of him, displaying your sopping cunt to his face. choso's mouth is watering and he couldnt wait any longer to taste you so he grabs your waist and pushes you onto his face, causing you to yelp.

"angghh!" his tongue is doing wonders. he slowly and sensually laps up the juices dripping from your entrance, groaning in delight. his shaky hands dont leave your waist, only pushing down harder so you cant escape him.

virgin!choso who is glad he's watched enough porn to know how to eat someone out. now he gets to reap the rewards by watching you squirm on top of him. he removes his grip from your waist to lift up your tank top and bra to reveal your cold nipples.

virgin!choso who circles your buds lovingly, making you jump at the sensation. you cream on his tongue immedietly after.

"fuck fuck fuck!" you whisper to yourself, trying to keep yourself from being too loud.

you breathe heavily as you calm down from your first orgasm, choso still softly licking up your essence. you remove yourself from his mouth, before moving down to hover over his crotch area. the flustered man props himself up, feeling your warmth of your heat through his sweatpants.

virgin!choso who hastily removes his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his thick length. you smile at how vulnerable he looks under you. his face red as a cherry and pouty expression.

virgin!choso who's eyes widen when you grab his length and rub the tip against your clit. he quickly grabs your arm, exclaiming that he's a virgin. hearing that information makes you smile.

"awee..." you coo. "considering how well you tongue fucked me, i woulda thought that you mightve had some experience..but i guess not." you whisper in his ear, biting at the cartilidge lightly. he whimpers submissively.

"its okay baby, ill be gentle. maybe if you beg enough ill let you cum inside." winking at choso before slowly pushing him inside you.

virgin!choso who cries in pleasure when he finally feels you. your walls are pulsing tight and it takes you a few seconds to fully engluf him in your heat. you, on the other hand were trying to get used to how big and girthy he is. sure, you may have done it once or twice, but choso's cock was stretching you beyond your limits. you cover your mouth as you sink further down his shaft all the way to the hilt.

virgin!choso who has to regulate his breathing in order to focus on the task at hand. his shaky hands grab your waist once more before sharing eye contact with you. he gets the 'okay' nod from you and starts to thrust his hips up.

virgin!choso who moans with you as you wrap your arms around him and kiss him once again. its a desperate kiss, filled with gasps and saliva, but to him, its insatiating. there could be nothing better in this world but this.

virgin!choso who releases from the kiss to adore your body even more. he moves his hands down from your waist to your ass, gripping at the soft fat, all while sucking on your tits.

virgin!choso who swirls his tongue against your buds, looking up at you to watch your face contort.

"i thought..hah...I thought you said you were a virgin..." you comment, eyes closed as you continue to bounce on him.

"i was..ngh" choso pants, removing his mouth from your tits. "till you came..fuck!" he fucks into you wildly. feeling your slick drip down his shaft and balls.

"mhmmf!!" you whimper as he hits your sweet spot. he smiles slowly, enjoying the way you tried to assert dominance before but now you're moaning like a slut on top of him.

virgin!choso who flips you onto your back, snapping his hips back into you, eager to reach his high.

"please..pleaspleasplease..." he whines like a broken record. "m so close....please let me cum." he feels the knot in his stomach tighten.

you look at him with fluttering eyes. "not yet."

virgin!choso who whines even louder as he plunges his cock deeper inside you, making you scream.

"please baby please..." he mumbles, his face buried in your neck. "ill do anything please let me cum..."

you grin, feeling his pace get less rhythmic and more sporadic. you carress his hair, whispering in his ear to let it all go.

virgin!choso who sobs out as he cums inside you, pumping his hips to let all of his creamy seed bed inside of you. you hum as you feel your womb get flooded, locking your legs so he wouldnt pull out.

virgin!choso who almost passes out while softening inside you. he feels your hand stroke his hair, calming him down. you scan his face, noticing tears clumped along his lashline.

virgin!choso’s heart beats wildly when you wipe his tear stained cheeks, looking at him with your fucked out expression.

virgin!choso who pulls out and watches his cum drool out of you. you watch his reaction and you can swear little hearts form in his eyes.

virgin!choso who brings a towel to you, wiping up the mess the two of you created between your thighs. you kiss him on the cheek as he cleans you up.

virgin!choso who is unaware that you have also fallen for him <33

[mediocre-shark-tales]

The Path to Reconciliation

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

My heart stopped. The anger, the confusion, the hurt—everything evaporated like a puddle on a hot day. Just two seconds ago, she had been yelling at me, arguing, standing her ground. And now—

Now, she had collapsed, her body dropping like a lifeless doll into Lando’s arms. Her limbs slack, her face fogged with exhaustion and something worse. Something I didn’t want to name.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

The world around me spun as the others rushed in, their frantic voices blending into the chaotic storm of my thoughts. They carried her to the bed, Oscar barking orders, Lando shaking as he fumbled for his phone. The medics arrived, pushing past me, their muffled yelling beating against my ears like waves crashing in a storm. Yet I stood there. Frozen. Rooted to the spot where she left me.

My sister. My baby sister. The person I had known my entire life, yet suddenly, I realized—I didn’t know her at all.

A firm grip landed on my shoulders, pulling me back, guiding me out of the room. The door shut behind me with a soft click, and I turned, meeting the calm but unreadable eyes of Nico Rosberg.

“We need to sit down and chat,” he said, his voice as steady as ever. Next to him, Oscar nodded, his usual patience tinged with something more serious.

I swallowed hard, my head spinning, but I nodded and followed them down the hall.

Minutes later, I found myself in an empty meeting room. The air felt thick, pressing down on me as I dropped into a chair. Oscar quietly locked the door before taking a seat across from me, while Nico remained standing, his eyes studying me. Calculating.

“I need to ask you something,” he said finally, his voice devoid of any emotion. “And I need an honest answer.”

I clenched my jaw, bracing myself. “What?”

“Can we trust you to keep this a secret?” His gaze pinned me in place. “You can talk to her, and to those who already know, but you cannot tell anyone else. Not even your parents.”

My stomach twisted.

“Why has she kept this from us? Why couldn’t she tell me?” The anger started to creep back in, the hurt simmering beneath my skin.

Nico sighed. “I can explain what I know, but only if you swear to keep her secret.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I’ll even sign a document if that’s what it takes.”

Nico smirked faintly. “Perfect.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, scribbled something down, and handed it to me along with a pen.

I barely glanced at the words before signing. My hands were shaking, but I didn’t care. I needed answers.

As soon as I handed the paper back, Nico tucked it away and exhaled, his posture relaxing just slightly.

“I’ve only been her official manager for this season, but I’ve been helping her behind the scenes for much longer—thanks to your uncle.” He paused, letting the words settle before continuing. “From what he told me, and from what she’s told me herself, your sister started racing when she was old enough to compete—just like you. She looked up to you. Wanted to be just like you. But your parents…” He shook his head. “They weren’t happy with her choice. So they convinced her to quit the sport she loved.”

I sat still, the weight of his words pressing against my chest.

“She was only twelve,” Nico continued. “And in that season she was forced to sit out, she fell into a deep depression. Your parents… they didn’t just discourage her. They controlled her. Moulded her into what they believed she should be. It was your uncle who saw her for who she truly was. He gave her a way out.”

My heart started to crack.

“For years, he helped her race in secret. Using a nickname. Crafting excuses to get her away from your parents. She climbed through the ranks—Formula 3, IndyCar, and now, here. She always wanted to tell you. But in the beginning, she was doing better than you. And she didn’t want to take away from your achievements. Didn’t want you to feel overshadowed.”

The words hit like a slap to the face.

“But as time went on, that changed,” Nico added. “She saw how much you trusted your parents. And she knew—if she told you, she was risking everything. She was afraid you’d tell them. That you’d betray her without meaning to.”

I felt sick. My mind reeled with the weight of everything I had just learned.

Then Nico’s phone buzzed, cutting through the silence. He checked the screen, his expression darkening. “They’re transporting her to the hospital.”

He turned and left without another word.

I barely noticed.

Oscar locked the door behind him and sat back down across from me, his eyes softer now.

“This is a lot,” I muttered, resting my elbows on the table and rubbing my face.

“Yeah,” Oscar said simply. “I get it.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “We used to be so close. Did she really think I’d hate her for being better than me? That I’d sell her out?”

Oscar’s expression hardened. “That’s what you’re stuck on?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I forgot how brainwashed your parents made you.”

I scoffed. “I’m not brainwashed.”

Oscar leaned forward, his eyes burning into mine. “Really? Then tell me this—do you think it’s normal for parents to groom their daughter from the age of twelve to be the perfect wife for a rich or powerful man? To have a list of potential suitors ready the moment she turned eighteen? Some of them twice her age?”

My breath hitched.

Oscar kept going. “Do you think it’s normal to strip a kid of everything they love, force them into a mold, and make them feel like they’re less than human?”

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to.

But in the silence, the realization came crashing down.

I had been blind.

Blind to what she’d gone through. Blind to how twisted our parents really were. Blind to the fact that she hadn’t just been keeping a secret—she had been surviving.

Oscar stood, pushing his chair back. “I’m not going to say anything else. This is her story. When she’s ready, she’ll tell you the rest. But until then?”

He met my gaze, his expression unreadable.

“Think about it.”

Then he walked out, leaving me alone in the silence, lost in the wreckage of everything I thought I knew.

—

Barely three days had passed since finding out about her, and every second I could, I spent it reliving our childhood. Thinking of every time she might have tried to reach out to me and I was too lost in my own life to realize. The memories came in waves, each one pulling me under with the weight of my own blindness.

The first one came in sharp and clear—the day she was supposed to start karting for her second season. She had been so excited, bouncing on her toes as we stood in the garage. Her small hands clutched the edges of her suit, eyes wide with the kind of wonder only a kid with a dream could have. I remember feeling proud of her, excited that she wanted to follow in my footsteps. But then, our parents had stepped in.

"You really think this is a good idea?" Mom had sighed, giving Dad a look. "Racing isn't exactly... ladylike."

"She should be focusing on things that will actually help her future," Dad had added. "Not wasting time pretending to be her brother."

I laughed then. Not cruelly, but without realizing how those words might have felt to her. I shrugged and said, "Maybe they're right. Racing’s pretty intense, and you never really showed interest before."

I remember how her face fell, just for a second, before she plastered on a fake smile and nodded. "Yeah... maybe it's not for me."

But it had been for her. It had always been for her.

The second memory hit even harder. A couple of years later, she had pulled me aside in the hallway, her fingers twisting in the hem of her dress.

"Jack," she had whispered urgently, "do you ever feel like they love you more? Like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough?"

I scoffed, ruffling her hair. "Don’t be stupid. They love us both. Maybe you’re just overthinking it."

The way her shoulders had slumped, the way her lips had pressed together like she was trying not to cry—I should have seen it then. I should have known that it wasn’t just sibling jealousy, but something deeper. Something breaking inside of her that I refused to acknowledge.

The third memory wasn’t as direct, but now it stood out like a flashing neon sign. A family dinner, one of the rare occasions when we were all home. Dad had spent the entire evening talking about my racing, my progress, my potential.

"Jack is going to do great things," he had said, pride thick in his voice. "I have no doubt."

She had been sitting across from me, her plate barely touched. At one point, she had opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but Mom had cut her off with a simple look. And just like that, she had shrunk back into herself. Not one person had asked about her dreams, her passions. It was as if she didn’t exist beyond being ‘Jack’s little sister.’ And I had let it happen.

And then, the worst one. The night before she left. I hadn’t known it at the time, but looking back, it was so obvious. She had come into my room, standing awkwardly at the door like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed.

"I think I’m going to do something crazy," she had said, her voice light, but her eyes serious. "And I just need to know that you’ll still be my brother no matter what."

I laughed, scrolling through my phone. "What, are you eloping or something?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "Forget it. It was stupid."

And then she left. And the next day, she was gone. Our uncle taking her away to some boarding school in London.

I had failed her. Over and over again, I had failed her. Not because I had meant to, not because I didn’t love her, but because I had been too wrapped up in myself to see how much she was suffering. How much she had been forced to bend and break just to fit into a version of herself our parents had crafted.

My phone buzzed, shaking me from the depths of my regret.

If you're ready to talk, meet me at this address in an hour.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my keys and ran out the door, my heart pounding with something between fear and hope. I had spent years ignoring the truth. But not anymore. It was time to make things right.

—

Pulling into the parking lot for the apartment complex, I sat staring up at all the floors. Wondering if she would have chosen the top floor like our parents molded her to be, or if she had followed her own opinion and went for one of the few just below. The girl I remember used to tell me her dream of a nice apartment. Not on the top floor, but a few below that—she still wanted a pretty view but didn’t want to be too high up, where she would be considered stuck up.

I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. My stomach twisted with nerves, the weight of guilt pressing down on my chest so hard it hurt to breathe properly. Three days. It had only been three days since my entire world flipped on its head. Since I realized just how blind I had been to the person who mattered most in my life. And in those three days, all I could do was think. Think about all the times I should have seen it—the pain she hid behind the mask of the perfect daughter, the way our parents had stripped her of her true self, the way I had let them.

I thought about the last time I saw her. The fight. The accusations. The way I let my emotions get the better of me and threw words at her like weapons. I had been angry. So, so angry. But she had been worse—broken, exhausted, and hurt beyond belief. And I had made it worse.

I should have been the one protecting her. Instead, I had been the one to hurt her.

What if this was it? What if she only texted me to cut ties? What if I had already lost her, and this was just a formality?

I swallowed down the panic and forced myself to move. My hands shook as I turned off the engine, the click of the key pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I had to do this. I had to face her.

The elevator ride felt like the longest of my life. My reflection in the metal doors showed the same nerves I felt—the tense shoulders, the tight jaw, the way my fingers kept flexing like I was preparing for some kind of fight. But there was no fight to be had. I wasn’t here to argue. I was here to listen.

The hallway to her apartment was quiet, but with each step, my heartbeat grew louder, pounding in my ears. I stopped in front of her door and hesitated. A deep breath. Another. Then I knocked.

The door swung open after a few seconds, and the breath I had been holding escaped me in a sharp exhale.

She looked… awful.

Her left forearm was in a cast, and the other was strapped in a shoulder brace, making her movements stiff and careful. Bruises still lingered along her skin and the stitches peeked out from the loose neckline of her sweatshirt up the side of her neck stopping right around the center. I had known she was hurt, but seeing it like this made it real. The crash had nearly killed her, and I had spent the past three days focused on my own guilt instead of the fact that she was alive.

And yet… she smiled.

A real, happy smile, like none of what had happened had managed to take away that light from her. Like she wasn’t angry at me. Like she was still my little sister, standing in front of me, waiting for me to say something.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice soft but not strained. “Come in.”

I stepped inside without a word, my throat too tight to respond. The living room was warm and familiar, decorated with personal touches that screamed her. Framed photos lined the walls—pictures with friends, some racing shots, a few of her standing on podiums. A life I had never known existed until now.

Then, I noticed them.

Max and Charles sat on the couch, both watching me with unreadable expressions. Charles looked neutral, like he was reserving judgment for later. But Max? Max was glaring, his eyes locked onto me like he was daring me to screw this up.

I hesitated, unsure of where to sit, unsure of what to do. My hands clenched into fists at my sides before I forced them to relax. My body language screamed nervous, and I knew it. Max knew it too—he looked almost satisfied with my discomfort.

She moved past me with a slight wince, heading toward the kitchen. “Give me a second, I need to finish making my smoothie,” she said.

I wanted to offer to help. I wanted to say something. But I didn’t know if I had the right to.

So instead, I sat down, feeling the weight of Max’s glare and the silence that stretched between all of us. And then, we waited as the occasional sound of opening and closing cupboards came from the kitchen.

The silence sat heavy in the room, thick like a storm cloud about to break. I could feel Max’s eyes burning into the side of my face, the weight of his judgment pressing down on me. Every part of me screamed to shift, to look anywhere but at him, but I forced myself to stay still. To take whatever was coming.

Max wasn’t someone who wasted time with pleasantries. He was all sharp edges, a man who never hesitated to say exactly what he was thinking. And right now, what he was thinking was how much he hated me.

"You’re lucky she wanted to see you today." His voice was calm, too calm. Like the quiet before an explosion. "Charles and I told her to wait a few more days. Thought maybe you should sit with your stupidity a little longer. Thought maybe you should really feel what it's like to be ignored by someone you care about.”

I flinched at the words.

Max leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring straight through me. "But she said no. Said she wanted to talk to you. Today. And between making her suffer a little longer for your mistakes or letting her be happy during what little time off she actually has, we’d rather let her be happy.”

My hands curled into fists against my jeans. Every word was a knife, cutting through layers of guilt I already felt drowning in.

"So, I’m going to make one thing very clear for you, Jack." Max’s voice dropped lower, sharper. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee, slow and deliberate. “You don’t argue. You don’t fight. You listen to what she has to say. And if I hear one word out of your mouth that sounds like an excuse, if you get loud with her, if you so much as look at her the wrong way…” He let the words hang for a second, his head tilting slightly as a humorless smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Then I’ll be happy to take care of you myself.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my throat.

The threat wasn’t an empty one. I could see it in his eyes—the promise that he would follow through if I gave him even the smallest excuse.

I wanted to say something, to promise that I wouldn’t, to swear up and down that I would sit there and take whatever she had to say without a single protest. But before I could find my voice, Charles shifted beside him.

Max tensed for a second like he wanted to keep going, but when Charles turned to him, giving him nothing more than a sharp glance, he fell silent.

The look Charles gave him wasn’t anything obvious. No words. No movements. But whatever silent conversation passed between them, it worked. Max let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head, before leaning back against the couch with a scowl.

The room didn’t feel any lighter.

“That’s enough, Max,” Charles finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. He turned his gaze on me then, and I barely had a second to brace myself before he continued.

“Max wasn’t wrong.”

I nodded stiffly, unsure if I was supposed to respond or just let him continue.

“I don’t think you understand just how much you hurt her,” Charles went on. His voice wasn’t angry like Max’s had been, but something about it felt worse. Anger could be burned through, but this? This was something colder. Something controlled. Something terrifying.

“She needed you, and you turned your back on her.” His words weren’t loud, but they cut just as deep. “You want to feel guilty? Good. But don’t sit here and act like that makes up for anything.”

I could feel myself sinking into the couch.

“She wants to talk to you. That’s the only reason you’re still here.” His voice was still calm, still measured, but there was something off about it now. A slow shift, the same way the air changed before a storm hit. "But if you raise your voice at her, if you say something that makes her regret letting you through that door…”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Max won't be the only one to take care of you. I will too."

I barely breathed.

Charles was quiet. Collected. Precise. But there was something unsettling about the way he delivered the words. The way he sat there, relaxed, like he hadn’t just made a promise that chilled me to the bone.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “I—I won’t. I swear.”

Charles didn’t respond right away. He just held my gaze for another long second, as if deciding whether or not to believe me.

Then—

“Max!”

Her voice rang out from the kitchen, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Max was up in an instant, his frustration vanishing in a second at the sound of her calling for him. "Coming!"

His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he left the room, disappearing around the corner.

That left me alone with Charles.

The air felt suffocating, like the oxygen had been sucked from the room. I sat there, stiff and unmoving, my hands pressing against my legs to keep from shaking.

Charles exhaled slowly, like he was letting go of something. Then, his gaze found me again.

“Do you understand now?”

I nodded.

His lips twitched slightly, almost like he was satisfied with my reaction. But it wasn’t a smile. It was something else. Something unreadable.

“Good,” he murmured.

Then—

Soft footsteps.

The tension snapped as she reentered the room, stepping into my line of sight.

And just like that, Charles was neutral again. Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just spent the last few minutes making sure I understood exactly how unforgiving they were willing to be if I so much as stepped a single centimeter out of line.

Max and Charles lingered for a few moments longer, neither fully trusting to leave, but knowing it was what she wanted.

“We’ll leave you two to talk,” Charles said, his tone neutral, though there was an edge of warning beneath it.

Max was less subtle. His sharp eyes met mine, and he tilted his head just slightly. “One yell,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “And we’ll be back.”

The weight of the unspoken and you don’t want that hung in the air.

But Y/N just smiled at them, warm and appreciative. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, both of you.”

They hesitated only a second longer before nodding and disappearing down the hall, the door to her office clicking shut behind them.

Silence settled between us.

I felt it in my bones—the heaviness, the years of distance, the unsaid words stretching between us like an ocean. But I couldn’t let her speak first.

I wouldn’t.

“I’ve had time to think,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. I forced myself to sit up straighter, to look at her. “To think about what I remember, what I missed, and what I never bothered to see.”

Her expression didn’t change, but she was listening.

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. “And I hate myself for it.”

She blinked, but still, she stayed silent.

“I was blind,” I admitted. “Every time you tried to tell me, every moment you hinted at what was really going on—I didn’t listen. I didn’t see you the way I should have. And now, I need to understand. I need to know everything. The truth. No matter how hard it is to hear.”

For the first time since I got here, her face softened, something flickering in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place.

Then, she let out a breath and nodded.

“You know,” she began, her voice softer than I expected, “ever since we were kids, I idolized you.”

I blinked. That wasn’t where I thought she’d start.

“I wanted to be just like you,” she continued, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “I wanted to be as cool, as fearless, as free as my big brother.”

The ache in my chest grew.

“But our parents never wanted that,” she said, fingers idly toying with the sleeve of her brace. “You could be whoever you wanted, chase whatever dream you had, and they would cheer you on.”

Her hand tightened slightly on the fabric of the throw pillow in her lap. “But me?” She let out a quiet, breathy laugh—one that held no amusement. “I had to be perfect. Their perfect little princess. I had to be delicate, traditional, feminine. I had to learn how to be the kind of woman that wealthy men wanted. Because that’s all I ever was to them—an investment, a bargaining chip to keep our family climbing the social ladder.”

My stomach twisted violently.

“They let me race for one year,” she murmured. “One. And only because they thought I’d come crawling back, begging to be their good little girl again. They expected me to hate it. To break down, to realize that racing wasn’t for me, wasn’t for girls.”

She paused for a moment, looking down at her lap.

“And when I didn’t? When I loved it? They started playing their games—pushing, pulling, tearing me apart until I believed it myself. That I wasn’t good enough. That I would never be good enough. That the only person worth supporting was you.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came.

“And I gave it up,” she said, finally looking back at me, her eyes shining with something too complicated to name. “For you. Because I was twelve, and you had been doing it longer, and I thought maybe… maybe that made it fair.”

I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

“But it wasn’t fair, Jack.”

Her voice was quiet, but the weight of it crushed me.

“Do you have any idea what that did to me?” she asked, her tone barely above a whisper. “I lost the one thing I loved—the one thing that made me feel alive. And for weeks, I hated you for it. I blamed you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, shame clawing at my insides.

“Until Uncle saw what I had become,” she continued, voice steady but heavy with something deeper. “How I was drowning in silence, how I was folding in on myself just to survive. He was the only one who saw it. The only one who actually cared.”

She exhaled slowly. “He helped me start karting again when I turned thirteen. He kept my secret. He let me have something that was mine.”

Her fingers traced absent patterns against the fabric of the pillow, gaze unfocused. “And now, look where his love got me.”

She didn’t need to say more.

I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay still, to take every word as I should—without defense, without excuse.

Her gaze lifted again, locking onto mine. “But you?” she said softly. “You don’t get to act like you’re the one who was hurt. You don’t get to play the victim.”

I flinched, but I deserved it.

“Because every single thing I have done—every lie, every sacrifice, every moment I made myself small—was for you. For you.”

Her breath was shaky. “I played their perfect daughter so they wouldn’t drag you into the mess. I let them pretend I was their ideal little girl so they wouldn’t take it out on you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment before continuing, voice quieter now. “And when I started beating you? When I got faster, better?” A faint, sad smile crossed her lips. “I told no one. Not a single soul. Because I didn’t want to take the spotlight from you—not even for a second.”

She let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but not quite. “Because I knew what it felt like to be invisible. To watch every single thing I accomplished get brushed under the rug, forgotten, ignored, because you had done something—anything—that they decided was more important.”

I felt sick.

Every memory I had of her childhood—of our childhood—was different now. I had been so blind, so utterly and painfully blind, to the girl standing in front of me.

She had given up everything for me. And I had never even noticed.

Silence stretched between us.

I felt my throat tighten, my hands gripping my knees as I forced myself to breathe.

“…That’s the truth, Jack.”

And just like that, the weight of everything she had carried for so long settled between us.

Heavy. Unavoidable. Real.

I looked at her then, really looked at her, and for the first time in years, I saw my little sister—the one who used to chase after me, who used to smile like I hung the moon, who had once believed I was someone worth looking up to.

And all I could think was that I never wanted to let her down again.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight, my chest aching with a weight I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to lift.

And then, before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out.

“I’m so sorry.”

My voice cracked, raw and uneven, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t try to hide it.

“I—God, Y/N, I have been the worst older brother on the planet. Ever.” My hands clenched into fists against my knees, my knuckles turning white, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this moment—except the fact that I had to get this out, that she had to hear me.

“I failed you,” I said, voice thick with guilt. “Again and again and again, I failed you. I should have seen it. I should have known. You were always right there, right in front of me, screaming for help in ways I never even bothered to hear.”

My breath shook as I looked up at her, eyes burning with unshed tears.

“You deserved better,” I whispered. “Better than them. Better than me.”

She didn’t say anything at first, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes—the doubt, the years of self-preservation that made her wary of believing me, of trusting that I truly meant it.

But I did.

I meant every single word.

“And I promise you,” I continued, forcing myself to hold her gaze, to let her see just how much I ached for what I had done, “I will be better. I will do better. For you. Always. I will be there for you whenever you ask—no, before you even have to ask. Because you shouldn’t have to. Not anymore.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she stayed silent. My heart clenched in my chest. I had spent years being blind, being selfish, being everything a big brother shouldn’t be. But not anymore.

“I need you to know something else,” I said, voice trembling as I tried to get the words out. “How I reacted after your crash…” I let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair, looking away for just a second before forcing myself to face her again. “That wasn’t what I really thought. Not even close.”

My jaw clenched, my nails digging into my palms.

“I don’t know why I reacted that way. I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me, but it was stupid, and I—God, I hate myself for it.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, looking away, and I could tell she was trying not to cry. I wished she wouldn’t. I wished she would scream, that she would yell, scream, hit me—anything to make me feel at least a fraction of the pain she had endured for years.

“I should have been there for you,” I whispered. “I should have been the one fighting for you, the one making sure you weren’t alone, the one telling everyone else to shut the hell up because you deserved better than whatever bullshit they were spewing.”

My breath hitched, and I looked down at my hands.

“But instead, I made it worse. I made everything worse. And I will never forgive myself for that.”

Silence settled between us for a moment, heavy but no longer suffocating. It wasn’t the kind of silence that built walls between us anymore—it was the kind that cracked them open, raw and vulnerable, laying everything bare.

Then, to my surprise, she let out a soft breath—almost a laugh, though it wasn’t quite happy.

“Jack…” she murmured, and I flinched, waiting for the blow, waiting for her to tell me that sorry wasn’t enough, that I had already ruined too much.

But instead, she reached forward, hesitantly placing her hand over mine.

My breath caught in my throat.

“I don’t need you to feel guilty, at least not like this” she said, her voice quiet but sure. “I just need you to mean what you say. I need you to prove it. Not just today, or tomorrow, but always.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “I will.”

She studied me for a long moment, and then, finally, she gave me the smallest, softest smile.

I let out a shaky breath and, before I could stop myself, turned my hand over so I could squeeze hers. It was the first time in years that I had felt like her brother. She squeezed my hand back.

I let out a choked laugh, running a hand down my face. “You know,” I said, voice still shaky, “I used to think that I was protecting you by not getting involved. By letting Mom and Dad handle things the way they wanted. I thought that was the right thing to do.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, her eyes darkening with something softer, something sadder.

“You weren’t protecting me,” she murmured. “You were just looking away.”

I flinched. But she didn’t let go of my hand. And somehow, that was enough to keep me from breaking apart completely. “I’m here now,” I said, voice quiet but certain. “And I swear to you—I will never look away again.”

Y/N inhaled sharply, like she was trying to hold something back. And then she nodded. I exhaled, my shoulders finally, finally relaxing.

It wasn’t everything. But it was a start.

I stood, feeling lighter, different. Determined.

“I’ll see you soon?” I asked, hesitant. Y/N smiled again, this time a little more sure. “Yeah.”

I nodded. Then, without another word, I turned and left, walking out the door with a purpose I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. This time, I wouldn’t fail her. Not now and Not ever again.

—

Watching Jack walk out the door, I felt something shift inside me—something fragile but real.

It wasn’t a grand moment of instant healing, no cinematic wave of relief crashing over me, but rather a slow, quiet mending. Like the first stitch in a wound too long left open, raw and aching. It would take time, I knew that. But for the first time in years, it felt truly possible.

I had braced myself for a fight, for yelling, for him standing his ground in our parents’ corner, throwing their words at me like daggers. I had prepared for the worst—prepared for him to tell me I was overreacting, that I needed to move on, that they were right, and I was just the problem child.

But instead, he had caught me completely off guard.

He had come to me with guilt. With regret. Not the kind you put on just to smooth things over, but something deeper, something that had been gnawing at him long before he even stepped through my door.

Someone else—someone who hadn’t spent years trying and failing to reach him, someone who hadn’t seen the real him before—might say he was gaslighting me, manipulating me into trusting him again just so he could hurt me down the line.

But I knew what I saw.

The look in his eyes, the way he carried himself, the way his voice wavered, as if he was afraid to even breathe wrong in my presence—this wasn’t the same person who had turned his back on me.

This was the boy I had once trusted with everything, standing in front of me again. Hesitant. Uncertain. But real. Himself.

And for the first time, I wondered if maybe—just maybe—he had been suffering too. If maybe he had been trapped just like me, shaped and bent into something unrecognizable under the weight of our parents' expectations. If maybe he was only just now beginning to see it, beginning his own road to realization.

It was almost laughable. It had taken me nearly dying right in front of his eyes for him to finally open them.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The weight of it all sat heavy in my chest, but it didn’t hurt as much as before.

The front door had barely clicked shut when I heard another door creak open behind me. I rolled my eyes before I even turned around.

Two familiar faces peeked out from my office, their wide, curious eyes locked onto me like two overgrown children sneaking out of bed past curfew.

Max and Charles.

They grinned the moment I turned to look at them, the warmth in their faces softening the last of my tension. Neither of them hesitated as they stepped fully into the living room, each claiming a spot on either side of me on the couch. They didn’t press me immediately, but I could feel their quiet scrutiny, the way their gazes searched my face, scanning me for the answer before I even gave it.

I sighed. I knew they wouldn’t let this go.

“It went a lot better than I expected,” I admitted, leaning back against the cushions. “I can honestly say he really thought about everything. He feels guilty. Deeply guilty. He knows what he let our parents put me through, and he hates himself for it.”

Max and Charles exchanged a look—one of those silent conversations they somehow always had without speaking. Suspicion lingered in their expressions, doubt clouding their eyes.

Max turned back first, arms crossed, gaze sharp. “Are you sure you can trust what he says?”

I hesitated, not because I doubted myself, but because I understood why they were skeptical.

“I believe him,” I said carefully. “The version of him that walked in—it was the brother I remembered racing with my first year. The brother who stood up for me in the paddock, even when it meant going against our parents. Before they got to him, before he was brainwashed into whatever version of himself he’s been for the last six years.”

I reached for the small framed photo on the coffee table, brushing my fingers over the glass.

It was an old picture—our first family 1-2 finish. Jack on the top step of the podium, me on the second. His arm slung around my shoulders, both of us grinning like we had the entire world at our feet.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“The boy in this photo,” I murmured, “he was the most raw, the most real version of himself. Untouched by criticism, unburdened by expectations. That’s the same person who walked through my front door today.”

I set the photo down, inhaling slowly. “And it was him who walked out, too.”

Max and Charles didn’t say anything, letting me speak at my own pace.

“It’s going to take time for him to earn back what he lost in me,” I continued, voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside me. “But this… this was a start. And for the first time, I feel hopeful for the future with him.”

Silence settled over us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was understanding.

I reached out, finding both their hands and intertwining my fingers with theirs. My thumb traced absentminded circles against their skin, grounding myself in the warmth of their presence.

“But no matter what happens, I’m not tied down to the idea of what he was supposed to be for me anymore,” I said softly. “If he were to walk back through that door right now and say he didn’t actually want to try, that he still hated me, or whatever bullshit negativity he could throw at me… I wouldn’t feel anything.”

Their hands instinctively tightened around mine.

“Because I have you,” I whispered, looking between them. “And the rest of the boys. I have a family. A real family. One that I chose, one that chose me. I have people in my corner, people who will always be here for me, no matter what.”

Max’s jaw tensed, and he quickly looked away, but I caught the soft pink hue dusting his cheeks.

Charles, on the other hand, made no attempt to hide his emotions. His eyes glistened, his lips parting slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. He didn’t have to.

The way he squeezed my hand—gentle, reassuring—said enough.

I let my head rest back against the couch, closing my eyes for just a second, allowing myself to breathe.

For the first time in a long, long while, I wasn’t looking backward.

I was looking forward.

And that?

That felt like progress.

Masterlist

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @littlesimps-world @dozyisdead @mizzy-pop @lost4lyrics @anunstablefangirl @nikfigueiredo @reiluvr @mymmyrym

[rhiannonsknife]

ms knife ur actually kinda evil including a little sub pervert rhiannon and not expanding on the idea

now it’s all i can think about 😵‍💫

in conclusion: someone has to take my phone away from me when i ovulate. nsfw content. mdni.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who gets back from a kill, blood still spattered all over her, chest heaving with adrenaline, and drops to her knees before you the second the door falls shut behind her. she’ll whine, hands tugging at your waistband as if she thinks she can earn the praise she’s dying for. she tries so hard to be good for you after. sometimes, she even cleans up her clothes and scrubs the blood out from under her nails. rhiannon she still brings the knife home like a gift, though, drops it in your lap, all shiny and warm. “i thought you’d want it,” she says, almost shy. “it’s still got them on it.”

speaking of which: sub!pervert!rhiannon who gets so fucking needy after a kill. she’ll crawl into your lap, her mouth slick from licking the blade clean. “i did it so well this time,” she murmurs, breath hot against your neck. “aren’t you proud of me?”

sub!pervert!rhiannon who loves being restrained. whether it’s being pinned, tied or dragged into position, it short-circuits her. she could kill you, you both know it: rhiannon has always been the physically stronger one, and yet she doesn’t. she lets you hold her down, getting off on the vulnerability of being powerless.

we all know that scene of her slapping craig (lucky bastard, i mean WHAT) but…sub!pervert!rhiannon who comes embarrassingly fast when you slap her face and tell her to look at you. she gasps, stunned for a second, her cheek blooming red and her cunt pulsing. “again,” she whispers with her lip trembling.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who grinds down on your thigh when she wants attention. from just a little rutting, she’s already gasping and whispering how badly she needs it. “fuck- can i come like this? please? just like this, you don’t even have to touch me-” she’ll cry when you ignore her, mascara streaked down her cheeks as she grinds against you while you pretend she isn’t there. “i’ll behave,” she sobs. “i’ll do anything. i just want your eyes back on me.”

sub!pervert!rhiannon who loves when you make her wait naked on the bed, hands in her lap, lips parted like she’s already being fucked just by the thought of you. she twitches when she hears your footsteps in the hall, a puddle of her wetness left where she’s been waiting on the sheets. “you said ten minutes,” she pouts when you finally enter. “you made me wait twelve!”

sub!pervert!rhiannon obviously has a praise kink. she’ll come untouched if you praise her in just the right tone. “good girl,” you whisper, making her hips stutter. “god- please, say it again.”

sub!pervert!rhiannon who melts when you grab her jaw and tell her to open. she’ll obey before you finish the sentence, lips parted, tongue out, breathing heavy, not even knowing what’s coming, just craving the act of obedience. “look at you,” you tell her. “always so eager.” “only for you,” she rasps.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who wants you to dress her up after a kill…lace her into something soft and pastel, wipe the blood from her lips, brush her hair tenderly and make her pretty again. it’s the aftercare for her post-murder adrenaline <3

sub!pervert!rhiannon who gets so wet when you scold her……..

sub!pervert!rhiannon who wants you to mark her up. hickeys, scratches, bite marks, anything so that she can look at herself and see something you did to her, not something she did to anyone else. she’ll catch her reflection in a mirror and smile, pulling her collar aside to trace the bruise on her neck with two fingers and feel it pulsing.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who’s a squirter. she never used to be, she’s not sure she even believed it was real until you got her there. it happens when rhiannon is spread wide, overstimulated and near tears, her fingers twisted into the sheets as she sobs through her third orgasm. she’s soaking wet already, yet this sensation is different and she looks horrified when it happens. “did i-?” she gasps. “you did,” you murmur, smiling down at her. “look at the mess you made for me”

sub!pervert!rhiannon who wants to be recorded. not just the audio, she wants videos: full-blown, disgusting, intimate clips of her getting ruined by you. later, when she’s sore and clean, she gets comfortable on your chest and makes you replay it while she jerks off with one hand down her panties.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who wants to be watched. she touches herself, straddling your face with your legs spread as if she’s being examined, spread open, grinding against the three fingers she’s got stuffed into herself. “am i doing it right?” she whispers, biting her lip. “do you like how i look like this? how filthy i am for you?”

sub!pervert!rhiannon who sends you pictures and obscene texts from her desk at the gazette. she’s meant to be editing some article, yet no one is paying enough attention to notice that she’s taking the fifth bathroom break in the span of two hours. instead she’s got her hand down her tights in the stall, lips parted as she balances her phone on her knee and takes a shaky photo: soaked panties pulled aside, stiff clit on display. you make me so distracted, the text says. fix it when i get home?

sub!pervert!rhiannon who records voice memos while she’s touching herself. she sends them from the office bathroom as well, whispering your name between gasps. she knows the walls are thin, she just can’t help herself when she’s fingerling herself for you. “thinking about your fingers,” rhiannon pants over the obscene sounds of her wetness. “please- please listen to this later and think of me. was dripping all over my seat for you”

sub!pervert!rhiannon who asks you to film her with your strap inside her to see how far it disappears. “i want to know how deep you are,” she breathes as she hands you the phone. (as if the bulge on her belly isn’t enough yet…)

sub!pervert!rhiannon who is generally obsessed with your strap:

sub!pervert!rhiannon who insists on you packing in public. her knees are pressed together under the table, unable to think about anything but the outline under your jeans. she’s not subtle, either. at dinner, she slips a hand under the table and drags her nails across your inner thigh and over the strap’s tip. later, she follows you into the bathroom like a dog in heat and drops to her knees in the stall, nuzzling your zipper then mouthing at the bulge in your pants like she’s starving.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who will suck your strap like it’s your real cock. she’ll wrap her lips around it, spit slick and mess running down her chin, eyes teary and red. she’s shamelessly drooling all over the toy, too far gone to care. “doesn’t even matter,” she’ll mumble between slick kisses to the silicone. “doesn’t matter if you can feel it. i need to suck it. i need to-” and then she’s deep-throating it, one hand jammed between her thighs.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who rides your strap like she's trying to make it come. “you're gonna fill me up, yeah? gonna make me yours?” and you just watch her from beneath, one hand curled around her throat, letting her spiral.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who whispers “fuck, fuck, fuck, please get me pregnant” even though she knows it's silicone and completely impossible.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who also wants you to talk her through it like it's real. “feel that?” you murmur, rocking your hips. “feel how deep i am, baby? you're taking me so well.” and rhiannon nods frantically, sobbing. “so deep, it's in my fucking stomach” she babbles. “don't stop, please, it's perfect- you're perfect”

sub!pervert!rhiannon who gets so turned on from reenacting her own kills, in detail, with you watching. “i slit his throat, like this,” she’ll murmur, trailing the tip of her knife across your pulse point. she’s straddling you fully clothed and her hips start rolling slowly the more she tells you. it also gets her off when you interrogate her, asking her about her whereabouts the night before. where she went. who she saw. that’s enough to get her squirming, knees pressed together, as you pace slowly in front of her. “you’re not mad, are you?” she asks, blinking up at you. you crouch down, lean in. “should i be?” rhiannon inhales sharply. “maybe.” her panties are already damp.

sub!pervert!rhiannon who loves the humiliation of being stuffed with her own knife handle…? slapping sub!pervert!rhiannon’s clit with it…?

[inkykeiji]

you and me to infinity

character: shigaraki tomura (+ the slightest hint of keigo)

genre: smut, modern!au

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudo-cest (adoptive siblings), noncon/dubcon, dacryphilia, rough sex, semi-public sex, blood, no prep, painful sex, one use of the word bitch, tomura is kinda mean, tomura carries reader, mention of drugs (he’s a lil high), size difference

notes: set within my lil icky big brother tomura universe! | title credit: ecstasy by suicidal-idol

words: 4.8k

synopsis:

“I really hate it when you look at him at all, and I really hate the way he looks at you.”  His tone morphs from mocking condescension to a deep growl, jagged and dripping with jealousy, words ground out through his teeth. Whimpering, you stare up at him. “Y-You do?”  And it’s impossible to hide the genuine surprise, tinged with absurd delight, colouring your voice, a direct response to the authenticity ringing in his own—sincere anger and envy and a hint of hurt. “Of course I do,” he huffs, admission cool against your damp cheeks. “I don’t like it when people look at what’s mine. I don’t like it when people stupidly believe that they can play with my things.”

The sun is strong today, shining down with that summer brutality it always seems to acquire in the late days of July and painting the backyard in harsh gold, bouncing off the shimmering water of the pool and limestone of the patio. 

Sticky sweet chemicals and coconut cling to your flesh in a fine film, scents lingering in the air around you. It’s so potent Tomura swears he can smell it from the pool, swears he can taste it on his tongue, bitter sunscreen mixed with the salt of your sweat.

It makes his mouth water, saliva collecting in the crevices near his molars and beneath his tongue in thick little puddles, and he pulls himself from the water, swim shorts sticking to his slim thighs as he perches on the edge of the pool, calves still submerged, fingers curling around the edge of the stone. 

You’re sitting across the water from him, sprawled out on one of the plush lounge chairs with a pair of sunglasses on your head and a book in your palms, index finger idly playing with one of the curled, fraying corners of the cover.

You both hear him before you see him, a distinct slap of rubber against stone, a sound that has come to indicate Keigo’s arrival. 

Already twisting in your chair at his footsteps, your face splits into a brilliant smile the moment he rounds the corner, procuring an equally impressive smile of his own, features softening when he meets your gaze, professionalism melting in your presence. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, smooth and warm, grin never dimming. “Whatcha reading?”

It takes you a moment to gather your bearings, dog-earred book completely forgotten in Keigo’s light, and a soft little noise sounds at the back of your throat as you remember it, picking it up and glancing at the cover. 

“It’s, um, Crime and Punishment,” your voice is shy and soft, but your eyes are bright, wide, eager to soak up any specks of attention Keigo will toss your way.

It’s pathetic, as far as Tomura’s concerned. You act like some lovesick little schoolgirl around him, hanging on his every word with sparkles in your eyes and teeth sunk into your lip. 

“Dostoyevsky,” Keigo hums with an appreciative nod. “You’re one smart little cookie, aren’t you?” 

His thumb and forefinger clasp your chin, tilting your face higher, as if he’s inspecting it for something. The silence is thick as his eyes sweep across your face, slow and thorough, admiring.

You let him, putty in his fucking hands—as always—leaning into his touch a little, allowing him to tug you closer. 

“Brains and a face like that?” Keigo blows air out his mouth in a low whistle. “That’s a lethal combination.” 

Girlish giggles bubble in your throat and Keigo’s smile stretches, a slight chuckle of his own on the back of his tongue. 

“Where’s your Daddy, princess?”

“In the office, I think.” 

“Thanks,” his grasp on your chin loosens, thumb skimming across your bottom lip before his hand drops completely. 

Your stare follows him as he strides towards the glass doors, desperate and ravenous for as much of him as your eyes can swallow down, soak up, devour. 

“Maybe, if you’re still out here later, we can talk about Russian authors some more,” he says just before he reaches the Manor, pivoting on his heel and walking backward.

Yes, your head is nodding enthusiastically. Yes, definitely. 

The sliding door slams shut with a dull thud, silence enveloping the space again, only broken by the erratic chattering of Tomura’s teeth, molars grinding together as MDMA clouds his brain, rushes through his veins, capillaries tingling.

You’ve since returned to your book, a small, satisfied smile on your lips as your eyes stare listlessly at the page, gaze unmoving. 

Fuck. As much as Tomura hates that golden-haired honeyed-voice fucker, he can’t blame him for being enraptured by your beauty. 

Because, truly, you are fucking stunning—skin perpetually dewy as if it’s routinely kissed by the morning sun itself, eyes glittering like magnificent jewels even in the dimmest light (even in the dark—Tomura knows, Tomura has seen it) always so expressive, alight with excitement or curiosity or terror—but that isn’t all. 

It’s your very presence itself, your nature of being, your bunny-like shyness and your kitten-eqsue playfulness, and how you’re oblivious to it all, rendering it all so natural, so genuine.

If Daddy had allowed you to go to school, you would’ve been the most popular girl in your year, every year, Pre-K all the way to your university undergrad, and then beyond that, had you chosen to pursue that path. 

The thought makes Tomura’s blood boil. 

Just the mere idea of all those boys, those scoundrels and mongrels, leering at you and salivating like his baby sister is the freshest, leanest, tastiest piece of meat they’ve ever had the privilege of laying their eyes on has his vision bleeding a furious red. He knows Keigo would’ve been one of those boys. He knows Keigo would’ve probably won, too. 

Well, it’s a good thing Daddy never sent you to school, then. Because that means there’s little to no competition for Tomura, and that means Tomura is the winner. 

That means Tomura is the only boy you see often, the only boy you really know, not counting Daddy’s employees that swing by every often, that never pass the threshold of acquaintance, that you’re too shy and sweet and precious to talk to—the ones Tomura pushes you behind his back and away from any time they’re in your immediate vicinity, safe and sound, guarded by your big brother; the ones that never manage to say more than a few words to you, a polite greeting or a handful of small talk, before someone, Daddy or nii-san, is redirecting their attention.

And that means Tomura will stay the winner, forever.

Besides, little sisters should belong to their big brothers first and foremost anyway, right? Who better to take care of them, to teach them, to lead and protect and reprimand them, than their big brother? Who could possibly know them better than their big brother does? 

No one. 

But Keigo’s attention leaves you glowing, the effects lingering long after he’s disappeared—Tomura can practically see the dreaminess in your eyes, the swooning and the yearning, the spectacular fantasies floating around in that pretty little head of yours. 

It makes him sick.

It makes him sad.

“You never look at me like that.”

“Hm?” your big brother’s voice breaks you from your daze, blinking to clear the haziness. “Like what?”

“Like the way you look at Keigo, all starry-eyed and tongue-tied.”

“You’re my brother.”

“So? What difference does it make, if we don’t even share the same blood?” he questions. “If anything, being your big brother should qualify me more.” 

Frowning, you look over the edge of your book, forehead crumpled in confusion. 

“H-How do you figure?”

And, Christ, you’re so fucking shy, so fucking sweet Tomura can barely stand it. Maybe you don’t look at him with specks of sun in your eyes, but you do look at him like this, irises deep with devotion, with admiration, with trust. 

You look at him like he carved the moon in the sky, like he created the laws of the universe, like he knows best. You look at him like you’re desperate for his approval, like you’re aching for him to let you in on the secrets of the cosmos, like his word is fucking gospel.

He shakes his head, hand dismissing the idea with a wave—there’s no way you could ever possibly understand, no way he could ever possibly explain it to you in easily digestible terms, idea cut up into cute bite-sized pieces.

“C’mere,” he says instead, wading in the water. “Your big brother is lonely in the pool all by himself.” 

“But I’m reading my book.”

“Bring it,” he shrugs.

“I—Won’t it—”

“You don’t have to get in the water,” he rolls his eyes. “Just come lay on a floaty or whatever.”

And, ever the good girl that you are, you do as your big brother says, allowing him to hold the inflatable pink lounger, warmed by the constant sun, still as you teeter onto it, a short squeal catching in your throat as the raft wobbles.

Unsurprisingly, having you closer does little to dispel the bitterness simmering in his chest, the hinges of his jaw beginning to ache from the incessant, uncontrollable gnashing of his teeth. 

Because you’ve gone right back to your stupid book, not paying him a scrap of attention, not even bothering to look over as he glides past you, back and forth, back and forth, skinny body graceful in the water.

And that just won’t do.

It hurts, probably more than it should, more than it has any moral right to, a sharp stinging burrowing deeper and deeper into his chest with every passing moment you stay entirely oblivious to him.

It’s incredible, how what he feels for you manages to seep through the thick fog of manufactured euphoria, tainting it. Even when he’s high on a cocktail of narcotics, he still can’t fucking escape you.

It’s what has him flicking water at you as he wades next to you, little droplets smattering across your bare torso, missing the pages of your book by a hair. 

They’re pretty, though, tiny drops of crystal adorning your skin, rising and falling with your gentle breaths and glittering as they catch in the sunbeams.

“Nii-san!” you gasp, eyes flying over to him in surprise as your body instinctively jerks, rocking your raft a little. 

“What?” he asks as he flicks another fistful at you, crimson eyes shimmering. “Can’t handle a little water?”

“You’re going to ruin my book,” you whine, flinching again as the next batch of droplets scatters over your body, procuring heavy taps against the plastic.

“Oh? The book Keigo likes?”

And just like that his hands are curling around pink plastic, jagged nails digging into puffy inflation before yanking hard and fast, snatching the floaty from beneath your body in an instant.

Your short scream is gargled by the water, your body creating a small crater of mini white caps as it hits the surface, fanning out in ripples around you. 

You resurface a moment later, choking on your own breath, lashes fluttering wildly as you reestablish your bearings.

They look pretty, too, all spiked together with dewdrops of water collecting at the points; they look the way they do after Tomura makes you cry—one of his favourite sights.

It makes him want to ruin you even more, to stain you with him, to make a mess of your body and remind you who you fucking belong to, who you were made for. Your discomfort sparks some sick, innate craving lurking deep within his ribcage—something acrid and addictive, something starving yet insatiable.

“Tomu-nii!” you wail as you flounder, his name tattered by a gasp.

“Oh, shut up,” he’s saying even as he takes you into refuge of his arms, letting you cling to his shoulders and helping you find your footing. “It’s just water, crybaby.”

“My novel!”

“Daddy will buy you another,” Tomura rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“You don’t understand,” you slump against your big brother’s chest, sulky. “That one had all of my annotations in it.”

“Oh? You mean the annotations you were going to talk to Keigo about?” his face screws up, the name acid on his tongue, corroded with resentment. 

“I worked really hard on those,” you continue, ignoring his question, cheek pressed to his protruding collarbone. “And now I’ll have to start all over again; they’re ruined!” 

It doesn’t matter, he’s telling you with a dismissive roll of his eyes, hands flexing around your shoulders.

“Not to you, maybe,” you mumble through a petulant pout, brows knitted. 

“You know, I really hate it when you talk to Keigo,” he begins, voice dropped an octave as it rubbles behind his bony chest, protruding ribs shuddering with dark vibrations. 

His chest puffs out a little, large hands cuffing your biceps as he pushes forward with his weight, guiding you backwards. A gasp jumps in your throat as your spine bumps against the pool’s wall, sharp edge of the patio digging into your skin. 

“I really hate it when you look at him at all, and I really hate the way he looks at you.” 

His tone morphs from mocking condescension to a deep growl, jagged and dripping with jealousy, words ground out through his teeth. Whimpering, you stare up at him.

“Y-You do?” 

And it’s impossible to hide the genuine surprise, tinged with absurd delight, colouring your voice, a direct response to the authenticity ringing in his own—sincere anger and envy and a hint of hurt.

“Of course I do,” he huffs, admission cool against your damp cheeks. “I don’t like it when people look at what’s mine. I don’t like it when people stupidly believe that they can play with my things.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” he snorts a little. “My little sister.”

Confusion furrows your brow, your head tilting a little as your eyes search his face. 

“But that—That doesn’t make me yours—”

And although it’s supposed to be a statement, firm and sure, it comes out as a question, quivering and hesitant.

“Yes it does,” he scoffs, as if you’re stupid, and it’s so cute, it’s so laughable. “Daddy adopted you for me.” 

“N-No, he didn’t—”

“Yes, yes, actually, he did. He adopted you because I told him to, because I asked for you—you, specially. You’ve always been meant for me; you’ve always been mine.” 

Large hands skim down your sides, clumsy fingers creeping beneath the waistband of your bikini bottoms, toying with the thin, flimsy strings.

“Ever since we brought you through that door, you’ve belonged to me.” 

A shameful giddiness bubbles up in your chest at the thought, something hot and sinful unfurling in your stomach. Swallowing against the feeling, you try to extinguish it, try to stomp it out with sentiments of how wrong it is, but it only flares higher, burns brighter, your eyes wide and unblinking as they stay glued to your big brother’s face, clinging desperately to every word that falls from his lips. 

“And,” he continues conversationally, “since you’re mine, don’t you think you should make your big brother feel better after making him so sad?”

“Sad?” you question, all giddiness eradicated from your features in an instant as you blink up at him, looking so fucking sincere—forehead warped with concern, eyes glossy and scanning his. 

“Yeah, stupid,” he says, filtered through an exaggerated pout. “I really can’t stand seeing you with him, you know? It hurts.” 

And although he’s playing it up, there’s a twinge of truth to his voice, a tremor of honesty worming through his words. 

“I—I’m sorry, nii-san, I didn’t realize—” 

“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, already bored of this routine. “Because you’re going to make it up to me, aren’t you?” 

The implicit expectation hangs heavy in the air, the belief that you’re supposed to be good for your big brother, obey your big brother, do everything he says exactly when he says it, exactly how he says it, weighing on your chest.

And now, he’s got you trapped.

“S-Sure, but…” you trail off, floundering, a delicious desperation shimmering in your irises—a harsh push-and-pull, a tug-of-war between should and want. “I don’t think—I mean, this isn’t—”

With a growl, Tomura uses his body to shove you against the edge of the pool again, stone skinning your elbows, a short cry pushed from your chest, sharp and high. 

“Enough of this,” he spits, eager hands tugging on the cute little bows tied at each of your hips, bikini bottoms coming undone with a few harsh yanks. 

“No, Tomura! We really shouldn’t—!” 

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” he’s panting out as two clumsy fingers plunge into your unprepared hole, a gasp slicing your throat. 

“Because! Because it’s—it’s not right!” 

“Never stopped us before.”

Well, never stopped him before. You’re just as complicit, too, though. He knows you want it just as badly as he does, knows that this whole act is merely a facade, masquerading as a good little girl when you’re just as depraved as he is. 

You wouldn’t let him do this to you if you weren’t—wouldn’t get this wet this quickly for him, wouldn’t go this pliant beneath your big brother’s touch, wouldn’t welcome him beneath your frilly peppermint pink covers in the dead of night and wouldn’t beg for him so pathetically only a few minutes into his perversion, wouldn’t cum so quickly when he gives you exactly what you’re asking for. 

You might fool everyone else—Daddy and Kurogiri and Keigo—but you could never fool your big brother. 

He knows you inside out. 

“No!” you’re struggling against him, but your thighs are already trembling, your hips already bucking. “I’m serious, we gotta st-stop!”

“Uh-huh?” he hums out, indifferent. “And what if I don’t want to stop?”

Because you sure as hell don’t—not with the way your legs are squeezing his hand, pelvis gyrating in messy little circles as you try to catch your clit on the heel of his palm; not with the sweet wispy whines that keep prying past your lips, fracturing your sentences. 

“Just—Come on! Not here!” 

“Why not? Don’t want your new boyfriend Keigo to see how much you love getting fucked by your big brother?”

“What? No! Daddy—Kurogiri—”

He laughs, mirth wrapped in malice. “Give me a break. Kurogiri doesn’t give a fuck what we do. I own him, too.” 

And, you suppose, on some level that’s true. Kurogiri bends over backwards, twists his spine and snaps it to fulfil Tomura’s every wish and whim.

Kurogiri would rather risk his own livelihood than ever put Tomura in any sort of danger. 

“You should know by now that I get what I want,” he grunts as he spins you around, the heel of his palm shoving at the waistband of his swim shorts, “when I want,” a strong palm flattens against the small of your back then pushes, hard, forcing you to bend at the waist, your face smacking off the ground, “and how I want.” 

Leaning over your folded body, his chest presses to your heaving back, flat and flush, his cock bluntly nudging your fluttering hole, his chapped lips brushing against your ear. 

“And what I want,” he begins, hot breath curling around cartilage, shivers skittering across your skin. “Is my little sister’s cunt.”  

And so he takes it—takes what he’s rightfully owed, takes what he rightfully owns, thrusting his cock into you in one hard, quick motion, burying himself in your body, tip pressed tightly to your cervix and balls nudging your clit. 

The abrupt gesture yanks a yelp from your throat, eyes shutting against the reflexive burn of tears. It fucking stings, little hole quivering around his girth as it struggles to adjust, core desperate to split itself open for him.

A moan falls from his lips as it trembles around him, and God, he wishes he could see it. Your sweet cunt always looks so cute as it strains to take his thick cock, to swallow it whole, spasming around hot, hard flesh and evoking a gruff groan from deep within his chest.

“Hurts, Tomu-nii,” you whimper, words half-muffled by the stone, lips dragging across it lazily. 

“Yeah?” he breathes, leaning back a little as his hands stay firmly wrapped around your hips and giving an experimental thrust, basking in the pained mewl that spills from your throat as he grinds his cockhead against sensitive tissue. “How much?”

“S-So much,” you hiccup out, eyes squeezing shut. “So much, swear I can feel you in my—in my tummy, nii-san.” 

“That so?” Tomura’s asking as his hips draw back, slow and purposeful, until only the tip of his cock is dipping into you. “Good.”

His pelvis slams forward, so powerful it procures a little tsunami of waves around your bodies, water sloshing over the edge of the pool and onto the pavement lining it. 

It’s downright ruthless, the snaps of his hips hard and fast and so, so rough, your body jostling with each pound of his cock into your cunt. Saw-toothed fingernails sink into your waist, latching onto the supple flesh like anchoring little leeches, keeping your body in place during his merciless assault. 

Tears are leaking from your sealed eyes, seeping past the tight seam in fat droplets to clump your lashes into little spikes, water teetering precariously on the points.

Limestone grates against your cheek with his harsh pistons, leaving the delicate skin rubbed raw. Copper stings your nose, your blood smeared across the stone, salty and bitter as it mixes with your tears and flows into your mouth. 

“Nii-san!” you wail into the coarse ground, the honorific a garbled mess on your tongue, soaked with spit.

His pace doesn’t slow, though, doesn’t falter at all, instead accelerating in speed, the plunging of his cock turned voracious in it’s endeavour to fuck you. A smudge of your blood glimmers up at him in the late afternoon sun, glazed with sticky snot and tears, and a moan rips up his throat, eyes zeroing in on the stain, fingers pressing bruises into your flesh as he yanks your hips backwards.

“Nii—Nii-san!” the honorific judders in your throat, stammered by his vicious movements. “Nii-san, it hurts!”

“Y’already said that.”

But oh, how he loves it when it hurts. 

Because you look so pretty in pain, facial features screwed up in a perpetual wince that only gets tighter the harder he fucks you until finally, it snaps, shatters, melts beneath the pleasure. Everything goes lax then, dopey and dreamy with ecstasy as that sordid bliss bathes your body

Because you sound so gorgeous when you’re in pain, cracked whines and sharp gasps and rib-shattering sobs all slicing up your throat, leaving your voice raw for days afterward—so cute, so precious, so unbelievably obvious; a lasting effect of his sins, something you can’t hide with make-up or sweaters or bandages and one of his favourite sounds in the whole world to hear.

Because your blood looks so artful, smeared across stone tiles or painted in diluted saliva streaked along your skin or pooling in the indents he leaves, the etches of his mouth and the carvings of his nails.

It all has him cumming embarrassingly fast, his cock throbbing almost violently as he stuffs your cunt full of his seed, your name splintering on his tongue. Clumsy fingers hastily snake between your thighs to rub hard, fast circles into your clit, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of you. 

“Come on, come on, c-come on,” he’s nearly whimpering in your ear, his breath scalding as his hips twitch, minuscule movements he couldn’t control even if he wanted to, desperate to fuck you more despite the ripples of overstimulation cascading over his flesh. “Cum for your big brother, cum all over your big brother’s cock.” 

It’s more of a plead than it is a demand, panted out in pathetic whines while he ruts into you, pelvis moving in irregular little gyrations, matching the pattern of his fingers. 

It’s the begging that does it, that has your stomach tensing and your slick walls convulsing on his cock, an intense gush of heat flooding your thighs; because the idea of him being so desperate for your cream, so needy to feel your cunt pulse around his shaft, is so unbearably hot.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’s gasping, hips still fucking, cockhead grinding into your sensitive cervix. “Fuckin’—ah—fuckin’ milk me dry, bitch.” 

His cock gives another weak spurt of cum, a reward for all of your hard effort, and a shudder rips through his body, entire form trembling beneath the force of it. 

Then he’s collapsing on top of you, drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth to stain your cheek, cock finally beginning to soften. 

Sticky with sweat, his chest heaves against your back, his body gone lax draped over yours. 

But you’re still shivering with sobs, weeping uncontrollably into the stone as they claw at your chest, your attempts to swallow them down only making you cough more.

The weight on your back lifts, and your crying worsens, your big brother a pleasant, grounding heaviness. 

“Okay, okay, c’mere,” he’s saying as he gracelessly collects you in his arms, tugging you to his chest. “Hush, nii-san’s got you, nii-san’s here.” 

“Tomu,” you wail, face instinctually burying into his neck as your arms wrap around his shoulders, clutching him tightly. 

“I know, I know,” he’s saying as he shifts your weight to one side, his free hand reaching to snatch your bikini bottoms, floating aimlessly a few feet away. “Nii-san’s gonna take care of it, alright? Nii-san is going to make it all better.” 

His words soothe your sobs to sniffles, voice void of it’s usual bite, his hands gentle but sloppy as they re-tie your bottoms around your hips. 

You’re too fucked out to walk on your own, legs trembly and unsteady, and it’s clear that you have no intention of doing so anyway, not with the way you’re clinging to Tomura like he’s a fucking lifeline, nails piercing the flesh of his shoulder. 

Not that Tomura minds. 

No, Tomura likes feeling needed, Tomura likes fulfilling needs—that’s what a big brother is for, right?

And, as fate would have it, Tomura runs into the very person who started this whole mess, just as he’s carrying your pliant body into the house. 

Really, Tomura supposes he should be thanking him.

But Keigo looks concerned, forehead wrinkling with worry as his eyes scan your limp body, brows pushing together. 

“What’s going on? Is she—”

“Heat exhaustion,” Tomura says as an explanation, shrugging a shoulder in practiced nonchalance, a sharp glint in his eyes. 

“Shouldn’t she—” 

“Don’t worry yourself, Keigo,” Tomura brushes him off airily, already pushing past him. “Her big brother has it covered.”

If Keigo had bothered to look a little closer, he would’ve noticed the haphazard way the strings of your bikini bottoms had been tied, the work of clumsy big brother hands, too large and lanky and uncoordinated. 

If Keigo had bothered to look a little harder, he would’ve noticed the strokes of bright crimson smeared across Tomura’s protruding collarbone, a casualty from your steadily oozing cheek, painted over his skin as you nuzzle into him.  

If Keigo had bothered to look a little longer, he would’ve noticed Tomura’s half-hard cock, straining against the sticky material of his swim shorts, water dripping off the hems and running down his legs, garment plastered to his thighs. 

But Keigo doesn’t bother—or, more accurately, Tomura doesn’t allow him to—so he doesn’t notice any of it. 

Keigo does, however, notice the waterlogged copy of Crime and Punishment, sunk and abandoned on the pool floor—but Tomura doesn’t care about that. 

All Tomura cares about is getting you cocooned in your fluffy pink comforter.

“M’sleepy, nii-san,” you mumble against him, lips dragging over the knobs of his collarbones in a slur, punctuated by a sniffle.

“I know,” Tomura says softly, readjusting his grip on your body and cradling you closer to his chest. “I know, baby. Nii-san’s gonna put you to bed now.” 

He’s awkward with it all, hands too large, too rough, to do it as gracefully as Kurogiri does, but it’s still endearing all the same, moment infused with his distinct charm. 

It’s as he’s pulling away after tucking you in that you manage to worm a hand out from beneath the tightly tucked comforter, hooking an elbow around his neck and pulling him back down, begging for him to stay in a small, fragile, desperate voice. 

“Stay the night this time, nii-san?” 

And Tomura doesn’t have the heart to tell you that it’s only four PM as he nods and climbs into your bed, snug beneath your covers; doesn’t have the heart to tell you that you’ll both be waking up at one in the morning, groggy and starved from sleeping at an odd time and missing dinner, forced to rummage around in the kitchen for some late night snacks. 

Nor does he have the heart to tell you that if Daddy finds the two of you like this again there’s going to be some type of retribution, probably in the form of tightening your restraints, taking them from smothering to near strangling—not that Tomura necessarily cares. 

Daddy spoils you both rotten, but you’re his precious little princess, his prized little possession, and he’ll do what he must to keep you pure and untarnished, untainted, all without knowing that Tomura’s already had his dirty, grubby hands all over you, inside of you—your cunt and your mouth and your heart—and he’s left streaks of sordid stains on your body, on your soul; disgusting and permanent.

But no matter what Daddy does, it won’t matter. Tomura will find a way to weasel past rules and regulations—he always does.

[lumarhorrors]

Idk if u can do this request so if u don't like it ignore it lmao, how abt a Top prince x Bottom Male reader servant, since the prince is well, the prince, he can do anything so he orders his servant (reader) to have sex with him, with spanking and breeding kink from the prince and dub con (if u feel uncomfortable don't do it)

Of course, I'll make this request! Everything is in my I will write section ^^ also this is my first time writing none Vanilla NSFW so sorry if its sucks.

CW: dun-con, breeding kink, spanking, power play, slightly semi-public I guess? Raw sex.

You were just a lowly servant working for the King and queen as their son's personal servant. Whatever he wanted you did.

To you, the prince was a brat, extremely spoiled and a bit of a perv. You always caught him staring at you, whether it's at your ass or lower regions but it always makes you slightly uncomfortable. To you, you were there to do a job and be paid so you could finally be free. You wrote all thus in your diary and well....the prince found it and was not happy his eye candy was planning on ditching him. So As you made your way back to your sleeping quarters for the night and hand grabbed you pulling you into a semi private hallway.

When you turn to look glaring at you is the prince. And he was angry. "So When were you going to tell me you were leaving!" He yelled at you. "I-I..." you stuttered not ever seeing him this angry before. "as punishment for your little plan you'll have sex with me," he smirked as he knew you would listen to whatever he said. He pushed you down onto your knees and your face pressed into his clothed bludge. Your face goes red and your eyes widen...he's definitely big. "I...yes...your Highness" he whispered as you unzipped his pants and pulled them down leaving him I'm his boxers.

He threads his hands through your hair as you kiss along his clothed cock. You kiss up to the tip before pulling them down, his cock smacked against his shirt. You shakily placed your hands on his hard length and take it in your mouth. "Fuck!" He groaned as he placed one hand on your hair and the other bracing the wall behind you. The Prince grabs your hair tightly and fucked into your mouth using you as he pleased. "Mmm~" you moaned as his Cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged as he thrusted with no remorse tears pricked your eyes. "aww is the little maid boy crying?" he taunted. "Too much for you? Well take it" he glared forcing himself down you as he painted your tongue and throat white

the prince had you pressed against the wall your legs around his waist and his cock buried deep in your tight hole. "hah...please no...hah...more" you begged and whined. he continued to thrust in and out ignoring your pleas for him to slow down, his cum dripped down your thighs onto the clean carpets of the hallway. you tried to keep quiet as to not wake anyone in the palace and get caught, you let put a yelp followed by a moan as he spanked your ass. "I want to hear those pretty noises my little maid" he said coldly. "ah...okay..." you moan as he painted your walls white for the second time. a while later you had moved to his room. the door locked and your faced pressed into a pillow your hips lifted onto your knees back arched as he slammed roughly into your used and abused hole. "t-too...much~" you whimper as you cum for the third time painting the sheets and making a white sticky puddle of cum.

you knew the price was a fuckboy and a perv but you never expected him to breed you like a bunny in heat. you felt a hard slap on your ass as he spanked you again. he leaned down and sucked and bite your neck marking you as his. "you're mine little maid...you're not leaving ever~" he marks your neck with many hickeys. "fuckk baby...so tight for your prince~. gonna breed you all night~." he moaned in your ear. you were exhausted and tried to wriggle free from his grasp only to be flipped and sat in his lap cock still buried deep inside you. "plea- no....mOrE~" you whimpered as he roughly bounced you up and down occasionally smacking your ass till it was read, you felt yourself tighten around his large length signalling your fourth release of the night. he continues to abuse your poor hole even after you released your fluids over your chest and stomach "ughh one more love~" he said releasing his load into you.

after you both finished he kicked you out of his room naked and used. you sat on the floor in front of his closed with only a bed sheet he threw at you. you felt broken and hollow...the prince used you for himself only. you shamefully walked to your quarters and put on your clothes and packed your things and snuck out the palace. you left on your horse to the neighbouring kingdom. when the prince realised you'd left he was furious, but his parents just replaced you and his new maid boy was more than willing to be a toy for the prince so you were soon forgotten and lived your life in peace as the neighbouring kingdom's prince's maid.

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