#its why his gloves cover his two fingers but not his thumbs

[poxy-domain]

ok ok 1 more. my mikester. hes a pink bellied sideneck turtle!!

[lacroixqueen]

you're too pretty to kill (18+, noncon)

deadpool x fem!reader

Summary: deadpool was hired to kidnap and kill reader but reader is just too cute so it puts him in a moral dilemma

Pairing: fem!reader x deadpool

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: bondage, brat, gun kink, gun play, praise kink

You loved days when you could just rollerblade around the city without so much as a care in the world. The feeling of the warm summer breeze running through your hair. Watching as the lights zipped by like dust lost in the wind. You wish you could do this forever. After all, it was your peace, your one true happy place. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Out of nowhere, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a leather glove holding a handkerchief cover your nose and mouth. 

You tried your best to fight whoever your assailant was back, pulling on his wrist in a desperate attempt to rip it off your face. But before you knew it, you felt your vision blur and your head begin to spin. It felt like the world was melting right before your very eyes. 

Next thing you knew, you woke up to a sea of black. You could feel a piece of fabric cloaking your vision and tied securely behind your head. You tried to move your hand to hoist yourself up, only to find that both your hands were roped together behind your back. You tried to scream into the void, only to find that your mouth was sealed with a piece of tape.

“Mmfffhn!” you managed to sputter out, leaning against what felt like a cold, concrete wall. In fact, it was quite chilly wherever you were. Was it a basement? Warehouse? Regardless, you were shivering from head to toe. The tiny crop top and mini skirt you threw on this morning before going rollerblading was just not cutting it, unfortunately. 

You quickly snapped your head in the direction of what sounded like heavy footsteps and… clapping?

“Well, well, well,” a sly voice rumbled from the opposite end of the room. “Now what do we have here?” 

The unknown person gradually made his way over toward you, knelt before you, and removed your blindfold and gag. 

You looked up, only to lock eyes with what you could only describe as two white ellipses, narrowing ever so slightly amidst the shadows. Your eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness. 

“Such a shame,” your captor sighed to himself. “You’re so pretty too. As in, way prettier than most of my other victims. Normally my clients pay me big bucks to knock out assholes with beer bellies, bad breath, and a name on the registry but you.” He made a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers as if to take your photograph. “You are perfect.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with me..?” you stammered, almost too afraid to ask. You never took your eyes off of him. He was tall, lanky, even. Dressed in all red and black. You took note of the gun in his holster and the two massive swords strapped behind his back.

“Oh, nothing to write home about,” he assured, ruffling up your hair like you two were childhood best friends. “Well, I guess if you are really dying to know. Someone important wants you dead. So I guess you could say, I, being one of if not the most popular hitmen on the black market, was hired to.. Uh, what’s the word, kill you! Yeahhhh, that sounds about right.”

“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself. “All my life, I can’t think of a single thing I did that could possibly warrant this, I mean.. why me?”

“Oh how tragic,” Wade remarked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear while a tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “I mean, who in their right mind would want to kill someone like you? You are the literal picture perfect definition of the girl next door who wouldn’t hurt a flea. It would take a psychopath to even dream of such a thing!”

You glared at him while he carried on his little performance. “Don’t mock me.”

“Oh.” Deadpool stopped mid-sentence as he lifted up your chin with the tip of his index finger. “So it’s going to be like that, then.”

He leaned back slowly, only to gingerly remove his pistol from its holster. 

“Tell me, Y/N..” he whispered softly. “Have you ever held a gun before?”

“I.. no..” you replied, gasping as he pressed the cold barrel against your cheek. 

“Would you say you’ve ever, oh I don’t know, felt it on your skin?” he teased, dragging it across your neck and collarbone. He took notice of how you swallowed the lump in your throat nervously, and the way your lip quivered ever so slightly. 

“Or what about in your mouth..” his voice suddenly took a dark turn as he shoved the front of the handgun in between your lips, forcing it into the back of your throat. 

You felt your blood run cold. At first, it all felt like some sort of a game. Like one sick, twisted joke. But now, it suddenly became real. 

Wade was absolutely giddy, watching your soft, plump lips part open and accept the icy metal. He liked seeing how your pink tongue was forced still and how you squirmed like a helpless animal he had total control over. And the adorable little noises you made when your mouth was full. It delighted him in a way even he couldn’t explain. 

“Would you say you’ve ever.. choked on one?” he said, barely being able to contain his laughter. Without another word, he pushed the pistol even deeper, causing it to squeeze against your uvula, eliciting your gag reflex. 

“Whghnnn..” you muffled out, trying your best to mentally distance yourself as far away from this entire ordeal as possible. Your mind was racing at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You were trying to formulate a plan, something, anything to have him show you mercy. 

“Wow, you really are so good at this,” Wade mumbled, not relenting at all as he continued to shove the gun further down your throat. “Definitely better than I thought. Hey, do you like practice or something? Because God, you are a natural! If I weren’t about to kill you right now, I’d hire you on the spot.”

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo. 

Realizing he wasn’t getting any further reaction from you, Deadpool slowly removed the pistol from your lips, watching with glee as a string of saliva connected your tongue from the tip of the barrel. 

He then proceeded to drag the side of the handgun across your chest, over your bare stomach, and finally, resting on the waistband of your skirt. 

“So.. Y/N was it?” Deadpool rambled on, as he played with the pleats of your skirt with his free hand. “Right. You know, I would say I don’t have a lot of weaknesses in this world, wouldn’t you agree? So anyways, after I got mutated and all fucked up from that bastard Francis and became who I am now, there’s very little out there that truly phases me these days. But this..”

He gestured towards your pastel pink miniskirt. “This is something else.” 

And with that, he gently lifted up the cloth with the front of his gun to reveal your lacy magenta underwear.

“A thong! Boooold,” he commented, pressing the cold metal of the barrel right up against your labia. “I was wondering if you were wearing something underneath, and this answers the question. God, that’s hot. You know what’s hotter, though? One of my best friends, Logan. There’s just something so je ne sais quoi about that beautiful man. Anyways.”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly, a wave of goosebumps cascaded over your skin, and it was like the world just stopped making sense. Why did this suddenly feel sort of.. good? Minus the incessant yapping and endless sidetracked one-sided conversation, you wanted more. More of whatever this was. 

And Wade granted your wish. He pulled the fabric of your thong to the side with his other hand and gently prodded your clit with the tip of his pistol. 

He was taken aback when you moaned softly at the sensation. 

“Oh?” he said as he raised an eyebrow.

He pressed the gun even harder onto your pink pearl, eliciting another sigh. 

“Huh. Color me impressed,” he muttered. “This entire time I thought you were fighting for your life but you are actually enjoying this? You dirty little slut! And here I thought you were prim proper little miss perfect..”

“Why.. why are you stopping?” you breathed, a splash of pink brightening up your cheeks, causing him even more of a surprise. “Just keep.. Keep going.”

And to his own dismay, he obliged. 

“How would you feel if I did this?” Wade asked, but before you could even react, he had already shoved the barrel of the gun deep into your cunt. 

You tossed your head back in response, moaning helplessly as he pushed the pistol in and out of your swollen pussy.

“Ah, ah~” you cried out, instinctively spreading your legs open to allow him even more access.

“Now that’s a good girl!” he encouraged, taking note of your subtle invitation and pushing it even harder and deeper than he did before. “Wow. You know, this has been truly enlightening, Y/N. I never in a million years would have guessed you of all people would turn out to be a freak! And you, my friend, are the freakiest of the freaks.”

“I-I am not!” you protested, gasping as you felt the cold steel pushing heartlessly against your walls. “I like normal things too.”

“Uh huh,” Wade said as he continued to fuck your insides relentlessly with his gun. “And I am a three-headed sabertooth tiger named Richard. See? We can all tell lies to ourselves! It’s fun.” 

You could feel yourself practically melting into his hands, your soul floating into the ceiling until you heard it. The click. 

“Well, it has been real Y/N,” Deadpool sighed, his index finger resting comfortably on the trigger. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell had the time of my life! Shit, if we didn’t meet under these circumstances, we absolutely would have hit it off in another reality. As in, I would have fucked you in a multitude of positions in a variety of exotic outdoor locations! Unfortunately, however, the fun and games have to come to an end somehow. I mean, wouldn’t you agree?”

You felt as if your heart was about to both break and jump out of your chest simultaneously. 

“B-but..” you tried to reason with him. Not that it was any use, of course. “I really liked this..”

“I know, babe,” Wade cooed, his free hand snaking up and gripping around your throat tightly. “But if I don’t kill you now, I probably never will because you are just too cute. And sometimes I just can’t help myself but make stupid decisions.”

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, looking up at him. 

Wade was just about to pull the trigger until you caught his eye.

“Aw, FUCK!” he shouted, immediately removing the gun from your dripping snatch. “Don’t.. don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you inquired innocently, tilting your head to the side. 

“That!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards your face. “Looking up at me with those big, stupid adorable eyes. You know I can’t help myself when you do that.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you shrugged. “Besides, I thought you had already made up your mind. You sounded pretty sure of yourself after all.”

“You know, you really are a little shit, you know that?” Deadpool fired back, placing his hands on his hips. “God, and this was supposed to be sexy and dangerous, but you totally ruined the atmosphere.”

You smiled to yourself, self-assured in your victory. “Well, does that mean you are going to let me go?”

“Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself,” Wade responded, untying your ropes and smacking you on the ass as you stood up. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Before you walked out of the warehouse, you stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek over his mask. “Thank you.”

“Go, GO!” he yelled, pushing you towards the exit of the dingy building. “And don’t come back.”

And as soon as you came, you were free. The moonlight poured through the cracks of the tree branches outside and lit up your face. The door slammed behind you in a dramatic fashion. And with that, you finally felt yourself settling into another moment of peace. 

[peaches2217]

A little-known fact about power-ups: their effects never disappear completely. Even when the magic runs its course or is forcibly cut short, there will always be some physical imperfection that remains with you as a reminder of the power you held. That said, imperfections are so miniscule that it takes years of regular power-up usage — or several months of intensive daily usage — for any such effects to manifest to more heavily obvious levels. As most people don't use power-ups more than a handful of times in their lives, it's only natural that this fact remains obscure.

Even Peach spent most of her life oblivious to this (which makes her feel quite silly, because not only has she used power-ups plenty of times before, power-ups are the Mushroom Kingdom's main exports). Her first exposure to this concept came from — where else? — Mario.

She had already called Mario her dearest friend for the better part of two years when she first saw his hands up close. She'd noticed before that he rarely removed his gloves in her presence, and when he did, he would immediately stuff his hands into his overall pockets, but she'd never thought anything of it. The first time she asks him to remove the gloves for her (he fell from a tree because it's Mario, of course he'd fall from a tree, and she wants to make sure he didn't sprain anything breaking his fall), he's hesitant to comply, but ultimately relents.

She quickly sees why: there's patches of red on the backs of his hands, devoid of hair and pulling lightly at the surrounding unaffected skin. His fingers and palms are calloused, which she already expected, but they're discolored as well, darker in some spots and lighter in others. He must have been in some terrible accident, she theorizes. It looks painful.

It's not that bad, he assures her! He's just used one too many Fire Flowers over the years. He hasn’t gained any new burns since attaining Firebrand, which grants him heavier resistance to fire, so what he’s got isn’t all that difficult to deal with. It’s just… unsightly. Luigi’s hands are similarly marred from abundant Ice Flower usage, he reveals: his fingers are permanently pale and the rest of the skin is varying shades of purple and red, remnants of frostnip. Mismatched hands for mismatched twins!

Peach spends several minutes tracing Mario’s burns with delicate fingers. It’s not at all unsightly, in her eyes, just fascinating and honestly even a bit beautiful.

The closer they become, and the more she sees of him, the more she sees those remnants of the innumerable power-ups he’s used. His hair seems to grow faster for a few weeks after using a Super Leaf or Super Bell, especially his facial and body hair. He’ll shave thoroughly and an hour later he’s already got a five o’clock shadow. Sometimes he just gives up and decides to live with a beard for a little while. He’s not too fond of the Metal Cap or Gold Flower because he feels stiff for days after using either. He’s paranoid that his joints will eventually turn to solid gold if he uses those powers too much, which would be super duper cool if only it wasn’t also super duper painful.

His entire body is covered in stretch marks. He already had some on his stomach and thighs since he’s so heavyset, but all the growing and shrinking and restabilizing he’s subjected himself to via size-changing Mushrooms has left blanching trails embedded into him from his neck to his knees. Using an Elephant Fruit will usually net him a few more, and he swears up and down that his skin gets a little thicker with each usage as well. That one’s purely theoretical on his part, but lotions and hand cream don’t seem to absorb as well as they once did.

Peach could spend hours marveling at his body. She loves trailing his stretch marks with her fingertips, or rubbing her thumb in tiny circles over patches of burnt and rehealed skin, or combing her nails through the hair on his head and his body and his face. Some people earn medals or badges when they perform heroic feats, but Mario earns something that Peach finds much more precious: “imperfections” that make him all the more unique and all the more lovely. All the more him.

[sehtoast]

A Good Punishment is its Own Reward (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+

Word count: 2k

Fic Directory

Summary: Homelander doesn't take too kindly to being smacked on the ass- in public, at least.

Warnings: Vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, semi-public sex, getting weird with the web holes again, spit

Reader is written as a trans man but is kept gender neutral save for two or so gendered terms. Reader is written in the spirit of my spidersona oc

You knew not to tease.

After all, it was like dangling meat in front of a tiger that’d been starved. But, in the end, could you really complain? Once the aches had faded and he settled against you, could you really complain?

Not at all.

That’s why, as the meeting of The Seven adjourned and Homelander walked past, you took a quick swat at his ass.

The look he gave you sent a chill down your spine, tingling in your core. It wasn’t like you did it when the team would see.

“Hehe,” you chuckle. “Sorry babe, it’s just looking extra smackable today.”

He approaches you in a slow gait, hands behind his back, leather gloves creaking with the restraint he was so carefully exercising. Despite your own superpowered strength, he has you at his mercy in a fraction of a moment. A gloved hand gripping your neck, tilting your gaze up to meet his.

Those beautiful blue eyes that took you back to the clear, summer skies of your youth– that warmed you all the same.

“What, exactly, made you so bold today, hm?” John purrs, teeth bared as though he meant to threaten his prey.

You’ve nothing to say as his free hand snakes down the length of your spandex covered body, moving to press his palm against your heat.

“I could smell how fucking wet you were during the entire meeting…” Homelander murmurs in your ear, breath hot against your flesh as he blows on it. His hand remains at your neck, squeezing to punctuate his words. “Do I really work you up so much? You want me so badly that even corporate bullshit gets you soaked? So long as it’s coming out of my mouth?”

He relishes the way the emotive lenses of your mask mimic the way your eyes widen, though he finds it infinitely more delightful to utilize his x-ray vision to peer through to your reddened cheeks, the way you bite your lower lip in anticipation. You nod breathlessly, and he’s upon you immediately, tearing the mask from your head, tongue parting your lips, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit through your suit.

You moan into his mouth, hips bucking toward him for more.

“John…” you whine, and you feel his lips curl into a devilish grin.

He nibbles at your lip, and suddenly you’re being manhandled onto the conference table, his hands splaying across your upper body, thumbing at the spider emblem on your chest.

“I think you owe me, now…” He growls. “For taking without asking.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You bite your lip, cunt clenching around nothing as his words settle deep in your core.

He stands expectantly, hands on his hips as he waits for you to pay what you owe.

Your hands are at his belt immediately, dropping the metallic article to the floor without care– for you’re far more invested in stripping his pants away. You slip your hand between the band of his red briefs, simply taking him in a hold for a moment as you wrap your arm around his neck to tug him in for a kiss.

Your tongues dance as you begin to stroke, his cock twitching in tandem with his little moans. It’s enough to drive you insane, but you’ll find your sanity once more when he’s had you in every way he wants– every way you want.

"You like that, don't you baby?" You whisper in his ear teasingly.

His hand is at your neck again, and your breath catches.

“Maybe we should put your mouth to good use,” he rasps, tongue darting out to lick the shell of your ear. “On your knees, little spider…”

You obey, hopping off the table to kneel before him as he shimmies his pants and underwear to his ankles.

“That’s it…” he groans as you grasp him, tongue darting out to swirl the bead of moisture from the head of his cock.

Your free hand strokes at his thigh, the softness of your touch mixing with the heat of your mouth as you take him in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft as you swallow every inch of him. He hisses, and your pride swells.

As does your audacity.

You trail your hand along the curve of his ass, then swat it down in a sharp smack, gripping a handful of the soft flesh to knead.

Your hands are trapped in his grip in seconds, and a leather glove has you snatched by the hair, pulling your head impossibly closer until your nose is buried in the thatch of hair at the base of his cock and you’re gagging around him.

“Thought you’d be fucking cute with that, huh?” He snarls, hips snapping forward to fuck your throat. The hand in your hair jerks your head back and forth, using you to his heart’s content, groaning with each deep stroke.

“Gonna make you regret it,” he promises with a sly smile, ripping you off his cock to stare at him with your lidded eyes, drool dripping off your chin. “Look how fucking messy you are for me. Can’t get enough, can you?”

He grips his cock with the hand that previously held yours captive, and he smacks the length of it on your cheek, dragging it across your lips to paint your face with your own spit.

Your tongue darts out, desperate for his taste once more, but he pulls your head back, cock just out of reach of your wet muscle.

“Bad boys don’t get what they want. Only I get what I want.”

Suddenly, he’s dragging you up from where you knelt, hands seeking out the zippers to your suit– somehow patient enough to strip you properly. He took you in another kiss, strings of your saliva connecting you as you parted.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he commands.

So you do, and he’s using his grip in your hair to tilt your head back to spit in your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You obey, gulping loudly, and the devious look on his face only becomes more wicked.

“Such a fucking slut,” he praises as he works your suit down your body. “Look how fucking wet you are.”

He’s right, too. As he pulls your underwear down, your arousal clings to your clothes.

You want to say something quippy, to tease him, but your thoughts melt away as his leather clad fingers swipe through your folds, dragging your wetness up to your engorged clit. Your head falls back, and he’s nibbling at your neck, licking and sucking marks onto you– claiming you.

“All for me,” he lilts, tongue dragging up the column of your neck. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimper, hands gripping in his hair, tongue painting your flesh like a brush on canvas. “Yours…”

As the word leaves your mouth, his fingers sink into you, curving right away to find that spot that drives you fucking wild. His fingers squelch each time he drags them out and slams them back in, fingerfucking you with delight as he watches how your face contorts in bliss.

“Johnny!” You cry out as the pressure builds, hips bucking to chase the sensation, almost there, almost–

“N-No!” You whimper as his fingers leave you, and he’s chuckling.

“Didn’t I tell you? Bad boys don’t get what they want.” He shoves you back to lay on the table, hands gripping your wrists to thumb at your spinnerets.

You yelp at the sensation, still infinitely grateful for his fascination with your previously undiscovered erogenous zone.

“Do you deserve to cum?” Homelander asks, leaning over you with predatory eyes and mussed hair. You swear you see a flash of red in his pupils as he licks the tip of one of his sharp teeth. “Do you deserve to have me fuck you?”

You nod furiously, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in against his own strength.

“Please…”

He brings one of your wrists to his mouth, dipping the tip of his tongue into your widened spinneret, making you howl, your back arching as the sensation shot straight down to your cunt.

“I could take you apart so fucking easily,” he proclaims proudly. “I could have you any way I want.”

Homelander rocks his hips, sliding the length of his cock up and down your slit. You can see the way his control falters for a moment, pleasure clouding his focus. His brow furrows and his expression softens, and you seize your chance.

“C'mere…” You coo.

As he leans down, you nudge your forehead against his.

“I love you so much, y’know…” Your eyes shut, and you plead through your needy haze. “I need you, baby. I need to feel you in me."

Always so brittle when it comes to affirmations of love, Homelander presses a kiss to your forehead and grips himself, the head of his cock nudging at your sopping entrance.

"Mm," you hum, leaning up to kiss him properly. "Please, Johnny. Please take care of me…"

You can practically see the nickname push him over the edge, and he sinks inside in one push. You swear you can feel him throbbing between your walls, his little moans quivering in the air.

"Damnit," he groans as he bottoms out, gritting his teeth to stave off his release. As he takes a moment, you reach for his hands, slipping the gloves off, exposing him to the world.

To you.

He moves to lean over you, peering down with something utterly carnal in his eyes as he starts to move.

His thrusts start slow, mind still addled from your declaration of love. It always was the most perfect way to pull him back to earth.

You grip at his forearms, his hands grabbing you firmly by the waist as he lets loose, pace increasing by the second until he's driving into you like a madman.

"Fuck!" you hiss, your body jostling with every thrust. Your mind hazes, and you submit to however he wants to use you– pleased that you got what you wanted.

His grip leaves your waist, slender fingers wrapping around your throat, a palm over your mouth to quiet you.

He doesn’t quite know why he stifled your noises, only that the sick sense of control he got from it brought him to the brink. To know he could control you, down to even the sounds you made, was nothing short of fucking ecstacy.

“The only thing,” he pants, “I want to hear out of that fucking mouth is my name. Do you hear me?”

You nod, eager to please him. As he lets go, you make sure the first thing you do is moan his name into the air like a prayer.

“Mmm, fuck!” He pounds into you, fingers traveling down to toy with your clit. He spits on it, using his saliva as lube to glide across that tender bud, relief coming to him as you throw your head back.

“John, oh f– I’m gonna–”

You clench around him, vision tunneling as he keeps the pace with both his hips and fingers. You cry out, each breath spent on his name as you crest higher and higher, bliss overtaking every molecule of your body.

You feel him coming deep inside of you before anything else. Before the whimpers of your own name meet your ears, before his head falls down to rest in the crook of your neck as he ruts through the waves of his orgasm. He’s warm, his breath is hot, and the cock twitching and spurting inside you is delicious.

You come down from your haze first, and you take the time to press a kiss to the side of his head.

“Heh,” you breathe a laugh. “Maybe I should smack your ass more often…”

Despite his groan, you feel him smile against your neck. “Keep it up, and you’ll get much worse.”

You pull him impossibly closer, limbs wrapped around him as his body lays limp against you. Above, Homelander finally cracks, and a lighthearted laugh leaves him. His fingers card through your hair, and he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Babe, if that’s your threat, I’m gonna do it as soon as we stand up!”

He can hardly wait until you get the bright idea to spank him again.

[k0yaz]

Diluc x femreader

breeding kink , biting kink, diluc is overprotective, smut VERY smutty 😘

Undo it yourself

Pairing(s): diluc ragnivindr x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, dom!diluc, sub!reader, breeding kink, biting, overprotective themes, marking, light fingering, mention of alcohol (but no drunk sex we don’t do that here), palming, handjob, tit fondling, a little bit of begging, back scratching,

A/N: again, no specification of what type of fic you wanted but it sounded like a oneshot so I’ll go ahead and do that <3

Diluc’s fingers dug into the supple flesh of your thighs, his still gloved hands making the bruises on your thighs turn a deep purple from how hard he was gripping them. You were only able to whimper in response as you caught a glimpse of his crimson, lust fillled eyes, which were staring at the wet spot on your panties as if he was about to dive in any moment.

“D-Diluc…slow down- ah-!” You gasped out as Diluc’s lips wrapped around your shoulder, sinking his teeth into you as his grip tightened on your thigh. He sucked on your shoulder intently, dragging the skin of your shoulder in between his teeth to bite down lightly each time.

He detached his lips from your shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the reddish bite mark he engraved onto you. You felt his grip loosen on your thigh as well, revealing a few marks from where his fingers once were.

“Tell me, when I had to go run errands and wasn’t there to look after you at the tavern, why were you slutting yourself out for some fucking alcohol?” Diluc growled as he removed his gloves, tossing them to god knows where in the bedroom.

“‘m’sorry-! I was drunk, I- mmph-!” your whine was hushed by Diluc slipping his thumb into your mouth.

“Nevermind. I don’t want to hear it.” He breathed out as his now ungloved hand dived into your panties, his middle finger tracing up your drenched slit. You felt his rough fingers against your core, causing you to let out a strained moan against his thumb, which was still pressed against your tongue.

Diluc pulled his hand out of your panties, licking off the slick that coated his finger. He peeled off your soaked undergarments, tossing them aside as he towered over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, and his face level with yours. His lips were perfectly in position to kiss you at that moment as well.

He got up for a moment, removing his coat and shirt and discarding them to the side. Your gaze flickered onto Diluc’s belt, wanting to reach your hands out to strip him down yourself. Diluc noticed your gaze, mixed with your retracting hands, causing his lips to crawl upwards into an ever so slight smirk.

“If you want to undo it yourself, then I’m not stopping you, darling.”

Your eyes widened, you felt your heart racing at his words and a smile to make its way onto your face as you crawled towards him, slipping your fingers under his belt buckle and unfastening it, letting it fall to the ground. His pants slid down his legs and joined his belt on the ground not too long after, the only piece of clothing constricting you two being his underwear.

You shifted your hand to hover over the enticing black fabric, pressing your palm against his crotch as Diluc stared down at you with a sensual glint shining in his usually dead eyes. You palmed his dick through his underwear, feeling a certain spot dampen from the precum leaking out of his tip.

You couldn’t take just doing this anymore, you wrapped your fingers around the waistband of his underwear, yanking it down. Diluc’s hardened cock sprung out, nearly slapping you across the face as it was freed from its restraints. You looked up at him to be met with a surprise…

Was Diluc blushing-?

Yup. His face was tinted a deep red as he covered his face with his hand, clearly embarrassed.

“S-sorry…” he murmured, his voice unusually soft for once.

“Sorry for what?” You remarked as you smiled up at him. You swiped your thumb across his tip, coated in precum, collecting it on your thumb and pressing it against your tongue. As you wrapped your hand around his cock, Diluc seemed to snap out of his blissful trance, and placed his hand onto your chest, pushing you back down onto the soft mattress beneath you two.

He positioned himself above you, pressing the tip of his cock against your clit and rubbing it in small, circular motions. His precum mixed with your slick served as the perfect lubricant as a loud moan escaped your lips.

“D-Diluc…please…just do it already.” You whispered, whining out as Diluc placed his hand below your breast, his lips trailing up your skin as he finally pressed them against your tits. His teeth grazed your skin as he rubbed himself harder against your clit, causing a string of high pitched moans from you as Diluc moved up and bit your neck gently.

Your arms found their way around Diluc’s torso, hands grabbing onto his back lustfully. Diluc couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he groaned out and lowered his lower body, sliding his tip down your slit and pushing himself inside you in one go, causing him to exhale loudly against your neck and dig his teeth in slightly deeper. Without warning he began moving at a delicious pace, his cock slamming inside you as you clenched around him. Your spongy walls stretched out from the way Diluc shoved his girthy cock inside you, his tip hitting your g-spot flawlessly, massaging it effectively as he buried himself inside you.

The way Diluc was ramming inside you felt incredible, you didn’t fucking want him to stop, you needed him to fill you up.

“Diluc…fill me up…please..” you blurted out, causing his eyes to widen at your erotic request. “Will do.” He asserted, placing his hand on your right thigh and alllowing it to settle on his shoulder, giving him a better angle to fuck you. His breathing became heavier the more he pounded into you, both of your moans filled the air, mixed with the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room as Diluc let your thigh down gently, placing his hands onto your hips for support.

You looked at him with a confused expression, which was immediately replaced with a throaty moan and your eyes rolling back into your head as Diluc thrusted into you at a faster pace. Your nails dug into his muscular back, dragging down and leaving scratches along his back.

“I’m…I’m gonna…” Diluc groaned out, his face blown a bright red and sweat dripping down his whole body.

“Do it. Cum inside me.” You whined out, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts.

Diluc raised his head up to yours, pressing his lips against yours and locking them, his hand trailing up to your cheek to deepen the kiss. Your tongues danced against each other’s in your mouth as Diluc’s thrusts came to a halt, his cock twitching inside you. Your moans vibrated against each other’s lips as Diluc’s cum shot out inside you, painting your velvety walls with his seed. You came along with him, your cum coating his shaft and flowing down onto the sheets.

Diluc pulled away from the kiss, wiping the saliva off your bottom lip. He wrapped his arms around you, digging his face deep into your neck as he panted against your skin heavily, your erratic breaths also ruffling his hair slightly.

“I love you, Y/N.” Diluc breathed out as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, earning a satisfied hum from you.

A/N: omg I will never understand y’all’s obsession w/ overprotective mfs but you do you-

I’m a ge-ge-ge-ge-ge-genius (it’s Spotify’s fault)

ok bye love y’all <33

[femmepeterparker]

pittwins fic snippet NEOW‼️‼️

okay okay okay but only because i love them

they make me feel so so sick /pos

She watched as Luz, who was sitting next to him on the floor, took his hand and walked them into the kitchen. The other kids looked up momentarily before averting their gazes to the TV again.

She got up and followed them, standing by the entrance of the room.

"-it's okay," Luz was saying quietly. "He's not here. We can- we can turn the movie off."

There was a low whine that Camila didn't register as coming from Hunter until Luz spoke again.

"No, no, I know. I know." She sighed. "It's just- it's bothering me, too. Not- not you! The movie."

More silence. She risked peeking inside at the two of them.

Luz and Hunter were sitting on the floor, Hunter's back to the sink cabinet and Luz kneeling in front of him. They were holding hands, Luz's thumb slowly rubbing circles into Hunter's hand.

Hunter's bare hands.

Belatedly, Camila realized she'd never seen him without gloves. She understood why he wore them now. Dark, thick scars covered almost every inch of skin, and- oh, Camila's heart ached tenfold- thin, silver lines carved their way up his wrist, stopping just above where his gloves usually ended. She wondered if Hunter could even feel the soft pressure Luz was applying.

"I just..." She sighed again, looking down at their interlocked fingers. "Sometimes, when I see sand like that, and it shifts, all I can see is you sinking down, and I wonder what would have happened if-"

She broke off with a sniff, and Hunter leaned forward, laying his head on her shoulder.

"Me... too..." he whined. "Think about... if I... the glyphs... too late..."

Camila didn't understand it, really, but Luz definitely did. Her other hand found its way into Hunter's hair and she let out a sob.

"I don't know what I would've done- how I would've lived with myself if he had killed you-"

He turned his head into her neck, another quiet whine escaping him.

[your-oddities]

╭─────────.★..─╮

Detour

╰─..★.─────────╯

Caution: Spoilers for Entry #61, violence (no stabbing or gun wounds), language, and uhhh that’s basically it. :3 !!

Word count: ~1.3k

• — — • — — • — — • — — • — — • — — • — — •

His gloved hand reaches for the bottom of the window and slowly, cautiously lifts up. It slides open with little to no resistance. He feels slightly confused as to why Tim didn’t bother lock his window, but with how his life is being flipped upside down, a small latch might be easy to overlook. Either way this bodes well for Hoody. He pushes the blinds out of the way just enough to set his camcorder down on the carpeted floor of Tim’s room. As much as he’d like to collect his loot and hide as quickly as possible, Hoody also recognizes that he must be quiet in order for this to pay off. So going slow would be in his best interest.

He slips into the room ever so carefully, picking up his camcorder as he steps inside. Tim’s room is quite the eyesore. The bed is messy and unmade. If Hoody hadn’t been keeping a close eye on Tim, he’d assume he just woke up from a night of heavy drinking. The unnecessarily high pitched buzzing of the overhead light adds a layer to the depressing feel in here. He holds the camera to catch every detail of Tim’s sad excuse of a bedroom. His gaze travels to his floor, where the beige carpet is decorated with miscellaneous colors thanks to the surprising amount of shirts and pants Tim never seemed to bother to put away. Or he just never had the motivation to. Tim’s never been a particularly organized man, though this place looks like it’s been robbed. Which is somewhat humorous to Hoody considering why he’s there. He didn’t come over just to pay his old friend a visit.

He treads quietly as he checks out the layout of Tim’s room. He first inspects the closet. He pushes some clothes aside to see just how much free space is in there. Seems to be just enough for Hoody to squeeze his way in if and when Tim makes his way back towards his room. Hoody makes sure to listen out for footsteps other than his own. He’d be royally screwed if he were caught.

Next Hoody creeps over to the nightstand beside the bed. On top sits a small, rectangular wooden box that looks to be conveniently out of place. The top comes off nice and easy, setting it down beside the container. He takes a look inside and near immediately snatches the orange tinted bottle. But his excitement quickly turns into disappointment as he realizes the small problem: it’s completely empty. Tossing the bottle back into its container out of pure anger, he looks around the room once more. Hoody knows Tim better than anyone. Surely he can find where he keeps his goddamn pills. It’s not like he hasn’t before.

He pans the camera around the room as his eyes look for every possibility as to what crevice a small orange bottle could possibly fit in. It’s not two seconds later he spots a tan wicker basket on top of the dark dresser in the corner of his room. The white of the bottle cap sticks out like a sore thumb against the muted color of the wall. Calling that hiding would be a stretch. They’ve both been in this same situation countless times. Hoody has managed to scout out his bottles in far more unusual places. But he doesn’t linger on the thought. All he needs is the pills and then leaving. So he trudges over to the basket and there they are. The white pills seem to have a warm hue to them due to the transparent color of the bottle itself. Now with the pills in sight, all he has to do is pocket it and hide. Holding the camera steady as possible, he films everything as his other hand grabs the pill bottle. It’s about half empty, though something is better than nothing. The rattling of the bottle is just enough to cover up the sound of a door creaking open behind him.

Hoody can’t help but feel satisfied while looking at the bottle in his hand. Though he doesn’t really have the time to relish in his pride. His fingers fiddle with the pocket of his jeans as he attempts to put the pills away. Though he’s soon cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him. He whips his head around, though it’s all a blur. Not a second later does a fist swiftly meet his cheek. His body follows his head and he stumbles to the side. He’s in so much shock he doesn’t react quite yet. Leaving Tim an open opportunity to have at it again.

A hand grasps at his mustard yellow hoodie and he’s yanked backwards, the pills and camcorder flying from his hands. He guesses Tim moved out of the way because next thing he knows his back meets the floor, knocking the air out of his lungs. He feels Tim getting on top of his body and holding him down with his weight. The combination of both leaves Hoody desperate for a breath. His hand flies to Tim’s neck while managing to only catch a shallow breath of air. He squeezes harder and harder until Tim can only let out a few pathetic gasps as he struggles to breathe. Tim’s own hands meet Hoody’s as he claws at the material of the glove. Though it’s in vain.

Hoody watches as Tim squirms with his hands around his neck. The sound of his own quickening heartbeat fills his ears, though it does little to cover his ragged breathing. Tim’s hand slips off only for his to ball it in a fist and his hand to collide with Hoody’s face, yelling weakly “Bastard!” he shouts as he, too, attempts to breathe again, drawing in quick gulps of air as he begs for oxygen.

Hoody’s quick to release Tim and lets out a pained groan. His free hand holds his nose due to the sharp burn. His mask starts to wet from the tears forming in his eyes. His vision blurs as he blinks away the tears. Soon the taste of copper covers his tastebuds. Hoody can feel his nose start to drip like a faucet.

Hoody can feel hands grab at his collar, glaring into his red, poorly bleached eyes. Hoody’s never considered him to be a violent man. But this scares the hell out of him. “Who the hell are you?” Tim yells — louder this time — at the man underneath him. All Hoody can do is muster some more strained groans.

Though not for long. Hoody’s other hand grasps Tim’s shirt and tugs him roughly to the side. Tim lands on the ground beside Hoody, a huff of air leaving him. Hoody scrambles to his feet as he tries to find the quickest way out of here. One that involves getting away from Tim. But Tim swiftly grabs his sleeve and tries to tug him back. However he’s cut off by coughs.

Loud, obnoxious coughs.

His grip loosens on Hoody’s sleeve as he covers his mouth, coughing like he’s on his death bed.

Hoody freezes for a moment. But just a moment. He’s left breathing heavily as Tim coughs like a chain smoker. Tim’s hand falls to the floor and his curls into a ball as the coughing becomes rougher. Like he’ll cough up a hairball. It doesn’t take half a second for the situation to click in Hoody’s head. Hoody frantically looks around before finding the pills lying a few feet away from him. He reaches out and pockets them. Glancing to Tim one last time, he just about books it to the window. He snags the camcorder that’s lying on the ground, catching one last shot of Tim as he writhes in pure agony. Hastily Hoody pushes the blinds out of his way. Near stumbling out of the room, he leaves Tim to deal with this himself. For now.

• . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . •

Thank you for reading! ヾ(^_^)

Is it obvious I’ve never written a fighting scene before? lol

[mandiemon3]

The Best Revenge is Living Well- Chapter 5

Mo jolted awake to find a gloved hand covering their mouth. Instinctively, they bit down as hard as they could, desperately searching the dark room for their attacker. A low groan of pain gave away their position, the dim light of the moon shining through the few windows of the room illuminating the edges of the stocky man crouched above Mo.

Mo’s eyebrows furrowed and they stopped struggling, finally recognizing the man. The gloved hand was removed from their mouth once they calmed.

“Izzy? What the hell are you doing in here?” Mo whispered.

“Other than getting mauled?” he hissed, rubbing his hand. “I came to get you. Come on, we need to talk.”

Mo unwrapped Frenchie’s arm from around their chest and removed Roach’s leg that found its way hooked over theirs. They peeled back the blanket slowly, not wanting to wake up their friends, and were about to clamber to their feet when they were offered a hand. They gladly accepted it, allowing Izzy to pull them to their feet.

Once standing, he grabbed Mo’s forearm and guided them through the dark room. He didn’t let go as he led them out of the room and through the ship, down winding hallways until they came to a stop outside his cabin. He finally released them after opening the door for them, waving them into the room.

Izzy’s cabin wasn’t much, but it was what Mo would have expected if someone had asked them to imagine Izzy’s living quarters. There was a bed along one wall with a small desk pushed up next to it, acting as a nightstand. There was a small table and set of two chairs next to a small trunk by the foot of the bed. It was effective, and nothing more, just the way Izzy liked it. Or at least the way he said he liked it.

Izzy entered the room after Mo, closing the door behind him. He motioned for his guest to sit in one of the chairs at the small table, reluctantly taking the seat opposite them once they sat down.

It was clear that Izzy was anxious. His usually neat hair was disheveled, and his hands couldn’t stay still. His expression was unreadable, eyes unable to stay on one thing for long. Mo wondered how long he had been awake. He had removed his leather vest and the belt that was usually slung across his chest, holding his sword, but the rest of his daytime outfit was still in place, down to his tie and his single leather glove.

“Let me see your hand.” Mo’s voice made Izzy jump. He glanced at them, and Mo thought for a moment they saw fear flash across his eyes. “Please, Izzy. Just let me make sure you’re okay,” they asked, holding a hand out to take his. “I did bite you pretty hard. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Izzy shook his head absentmindedly. “It’s alright. You did well, actually. Always safest to assume the worst.” Mo rolled their eyes. “Yeah, well that’s the kind of mindset that lets you bite your friends. Now, hand please.” They held their hand out more insistently, giving him a pointed look.

Izzy reluctantly slid his hand across the table. Thankfully, his leather glove took a lot of the edge out of the bite, but Mo was still concerned about having possibly broken or fractured a bone. They slowly started undoing the fastening on the glove, glancing up at him frequently to make sure he wasn’t uncomfortable. When the last fastening was done, they began to slide it off his hand. Once off, they turned his hand over, examining it from every angle. It would definitely bruise, and it was noticeably paler than his other hand, but there didn’t seem to be any major damage. They were surprised to see a small heart tattooed over his thumb, smiling softly as they let their finger drift over it.

Mo blinked hard. Still holding his hand, they looked up. “You’ll live,” they declared, looking over him, trying to figure out why he woke them up. “Alright, Izzy. What am I doing here?”

Izzy cleared his throat, readjusting in his seat. “It’s about what you said. About having…feelings for me.” He spoke slowly, as though he expected them to stop him, to explain that he had misunderstood something.

Mo raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“I should have said something when it happened. I was just…caught off guard.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m…sorry…if I hurt you. That wasn’t my intention.” Mo’s eyes began to burn again, still sore from all the crying they had already done that night.

“It’s okay,” they said, giving him a sad smile. “Like I said, or yelled, I guess,” they corrected with a weak chuckle, “I was trying to think of a way to tell you that wouldn’t knock you off your balance. But, obviously, I failed at that.” Mo looked into his eyes, two dark pits of emotion. He seemed scared. “It really is okay that you don’t feel the same way. I mean, I’m upset, clearly, but I’ll recover.”

Izzy broke their gaze, looking down to their entwined hands. “No,” he whispered. “I-“ he stopped himself, looking around as he swallowed thickly. “I don’t have any experience with things like this.” He frowned, his brow furrowing as he spoke. “I-I’ve never…”

“What, Iz?” Mo asked gently, leaning closer to him. “You’ve never…had a relationship?” they suggested tentatively.

Izzy sighed, nodding slowly, still unable to meet their gaze. “Yeah,” he rasped, glancing up at them anxiously to gauge their reaction. He seemed surprised that they only gave him a small smile, nodding slightly. “Don’t think I’d be any good at one,” he continued, his voice low. He cleared his throat, fixing his gaze on the table between them. “Don’t have much experience. Don’t even know how that would work. And you,” he looked up at them, Mo’s heart clenching as they saw the gentle tremble of his eyebrows, “you’re different. You’re…soft…gentle.” For once he didn’t spit out the words, speaking softly. His voice dropped down to a whisper as he continued. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mo sighed. “Iz, I’m used to your rough edges,” they said softly, placing their free hand on top of Izzy’s, holding it with both of their hands. “I know sometimes you’re quick to anger, and sometimes you let that anger get the best of you.” They gave him a small smile. “I’m pretty sure everyone on this ship knows that. But I also know a good amount of that anger comes from fear, and just generally being overwhelmed. Izzy, there’s few things you could do to drive me away.” They laughed weakly. “I mean, you’ve already beaten me up, and I still like you. No matter what, I’m always going to be here for you. I’ll always be your friend, as long as you let me.”

Izzy grimaced. “I don’t want to put you at risk,” he said quietly. He fixed his gaze on their intertwined hands, his eyes softer than they’d even seen them. “This job, it’s not a safe one. Not many people walk out of it with their loved ones. And I…I don’t want something to happen to you.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “I have…an appreciation for you, Mo. And I don’t want the crew of this ship to think you get special treatment just because of it. I don’t want them to treat you worse, or think less of you.”

Mo frowned, trying to catch his eye as they squeezed his hand. “Izzy, this isn’t that kind of a crew. I think you know that,” they added with a humorous lilt. “Everyone already knows I’m fond of you, anyway. It’s not like I’ve tried to hide it, and I’ve stuck up for you before, when their teasing has gone too far. Just, don’t worry about me, Iz. And even if they were raging assholes about it, I can handle myself.”

They grinned, feeling a light blush rise to their cheeks. “I am glad to know you have an appreciation for me, though,” they said cheekily. Their grin widened as Izzy ducked his head, his cheeks dusted with pink. “I have an appreciation for you too. I appreciate you keeping us all alive and safe, and that you’ve been willing to take the time to teach me everything that I realistically should have known a long time ago. And,” they added, looking down as their blush deepened, “I appreciate you worrying about me, and what the crew could think. You don’t need to, but it’s kind of nice, that you thought about that. That you thought about me,” they finished, their voice barely more than a whisper.

Izzy nodded, clearing his throat as he frowned. “’Course,” he said, looking down at the table. “Don’t want to lose the only competent sailor on this ship.” He swallowed thickly, ignoring the way Mo smiled at him. “Especially, not if it’s you,” he said quietly. He shifted in his seat, slowly turning his hand over on the table, holding onto one of theirs. “Truth is, I-I have more than an appreciation for you. I…I like spending time with you. I like seeing you on the ship and hearing your laugh, and seeing you learn new things, always so fucking happy.” He chuckled, glancing up at them with a small smile gracing his lips. “I even like it when you call me on my shit and curse me out. I…I-I like you, Mo,” he finished awkwardly.

Mo’s face burned with blush. Izzy continued, being nice enough not to point it out, his own blush coloring his face across his cheeks and around his ears.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I wouldn’t want a one night thing either.”

Mo stood up from the table, pulling Izzy up by his hands to stand with them. They slowly wrapped their arms around him.

“Good,” they mumbled into his neck.

Izzy laughed, wrapping his arms tightly around Mo, bringing them closer. Mo pulled back slightly, just enough to see Izzy’s face. He was grinning, a proper smile, not the half smiles he usually gave. Mo pushed some of his hair away from his eyes, their heart pounding heavily. Mo examined his handsome face, worn with age and years of life at sea. They ran their fingers along the creases in his forehead, through his thick sideburns, and finally down to his jaw line. It seemed crazy that after all this time, they could touch him like this.

Mo chuckled.

“What?” Izzy asked. “What’s funny? They grinned widely, shrugging. “Just that a few hours ago I was crying in bed, thinking I’d ruined everything, that I’d lost you. And now here we are, closer than ever.” They paused, losing themselves in their wonder. “I genuinely never thought this could happen,” they admitted. “But now, I get to do this.” They grinned up at Izzy, standing up on their toes to kiss him.

It was soft and slow, nothing like their kiss before. Mo worked their hands up to the back of his neck, one hand tangling into his soft hair, while Izzy’s arms snaked up their back, bringing them even closer to deepen the kiss. They broke apart after a few seconds, but neither went far.

Mo peppered kissed across Izzy’s face, making the pirate laugh and feign struggle. He finally stopped them by kissing them again, short and sweet, before resting his chin on top of Mo’s head.

Mo held on to the soft, worn fabric of Izzy’s shirt. Everything about the situation seemed both familiar and thrilling. It was comforting to be in Izzy’s arms, feeling his shirt on their face, and smelling the scent of him. It was hard to imagine that they had ever been anywhere else, even as every rub of his rough hand along their back or up their arm sent shivers along their spine.

Mo frowned as they had a thought. They tipped their head up to look at Izzy, leaning their cheek on his shoulder.

“Izzy?” He hummed, cupping their face with one hand. “What are we going to tell the crew?”

Izzy sighed, his face creasing again as the weight of the world came back to him.

“Don’t know,” he said roughly. “I don’t think we can tell them anything.” Mo frowned. “Why not? There aren’t any rules against fraternizing, at least not from Stede. Does Ed have rules against it?”

Izzy grimaced. “He used to,” he said, “back when he was truly Blackbeard. Bonnet’s influence might have changed that, I’m not sure. Either way, this might be different.” He brushed a lock of hair behind their ear. “I’m first mate. It doesn’t matter as much what anyone else does because they all have the same level of authority.” “If it helps at all, we’re technically on different crews. Buttons is my first mate,” Mo pointed out. Izzy frowned further.

“I think that just makes it worse. Consorting with the enemy, and all that.”

Mo laughed. “Yeah, consorting, that’s what we’re doing. Plotting evilly against our captains by holding each other and kissing. How dastardly of us.” Their smile soon fell, frowning as they turned serious. “If it is against the rules, what do we do?”

Izzy sighed, tightening his grip, pulling them closer to his chest. “How about we just don’t tell them? That way we never have to worry about it.”

Mo chuckled, holding onto the loose fabric at the back of his billowy shirt. “Alright. You do know that Lucius and Frenchie are going to know immediately, though, right?” They rested their cheek on his shoulder. “Frenchie will actually have a lot of questions when I go back to bed, and I can’t lie to him, he’s my best friend. And Lucius just has a sixth sense for these kinds of things.” They tilted their head up to look at Izzy. “Did you know he actually asked me a week ago about our relationship? He thought you liked me the day after our first lesson.”

Izzy tensed slightly. “That twat can’t keep his mouth shut,” he said lowly. “We might have to do something about that.” “Please don’t tell me you mean violence.” Izzy didn’t respond. “Let me talk to him, love. He might be nosey, and a bit annoying sometimes, but he’s my friend. Even if he’s not your number one fan, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Even if it did mean passing up on a chance to throw you under the bus and get you in trouble with Blackbeard.”

Izzy rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled, clearly reluctant. “You can try to talk to him. But if he even thinks about letting things slip, his time on this ship might be cut short. As for Frenchie,” he brushed a lock of hair out of Mo’s face before pressing an uncertain kiss to their forehead, “I guess I’ll live if you tell him, but only him, understand?” Mo nodded emphatically, grinning up at the first mate. “And he has to be sworn to secrecy, on his life.”

“Frenchie won’t tell a soul, I swear. We’re each other’s only family,” Mo said. “He’d never do anything to hurt me. And, thank you, by the way, Izzy. I know this has to be a lot for you, and I appreciate your willingness to compromise.” They gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, enjoying the blush that crept over his face.

Izzy huffed, almost a chuckle. “I don’t see what choice I have.”

“Still. I appreciate you.” Mo nuzzled their face into his neck, wanting to commit every detail of this moment to memory. “I really don’t want to go back to bed,” they mumbled, their voice muffled by his shirt collar.

Izzy opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. “I-if you’d like,” he stammered, clearly choosing his words carefully, “you could stay here for the night.”

Mo raised their head, taken aback by the offer. “Really?” they asked, searching his face for any sign of hesitation.

He nodded, doing his best to look casual, even as he avoided their eyes. “Yeah. You’re already here, and it’s probably less suspicious than sneaking back into that room with the rest of Bonnet’s crew.”

Mo raised an eyebrow, a small smirk pulling at their lips. “No ulterior motive, right Izzy?” they asked quietly.

Izzy turned a bright shade of red, shaking his head. “No,” he answered, his voice thick. “No ulterior motive. Thought it was worth offering, is all.”

They grinned. “Then I would love to. It helps that I’m already dressed for bed,” they added. “Do you have pajamas, or night clothes?”

“Uh, no.” The red of his face darkened, and his gaze faltered. “I usually don���t wear anything but my smalls, but I-I could just keep this on, if that’s alright.” Mo ignored the burning of their own face.

“I mean, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” they started to say, but Izzy quickly cut them off.

“It’s alright, I really don’t mind.”

Mo hesitated, not wanting to push any boundaries.

“What if,” they suggested cautiously, “you keep you pants on, but take off your shirt? It doesn’t look like it would be very comfortable to sleep in, and gods know you probably already don’t get enough sleep.”

Izzy nodded slowly, meeting their eyes. “Y-yeah, that works.” He seemed hesitant to look at them too long, his eyes flitting away every few seconds.

Mo stepped towards him, hands moving to loosen his tie.

“Here,” they said softly, “let me help.” They gently loosened the knot, careful of the ring he had the material looped through. They slid it over his head, gently ruffling his already scruffy looking hair. Mo smiled and smoothed it back down, pushing it away from his eyes. “You’re so handsome,” they said, almost under their breath.

Izzy blushed, looking down at his boots.

“What?” Mo continued, setting his tie down neatly on the desk next to his bed. “You are, Izzy. And you’ve clearly not been told it enough,” they added with a grin. “Guess it’s my job to remind you now.” They pressed a kiss to his lips, hands moving to undo the buttons at his collar. They slowly unbuttoned the worn black shirt, taking a moment to undo the ties Izzy had securing the oversized sleeves at his elbows as well. They began to push it off his shoulders, giving a kiss to his shoulder as it became available. Izzy shrugged off the shirt, folding it up and placing it gently on the desk alongside his tie.

Mo took a moment to look at him, the scars etched into his body, the way they could tell that years of life at sea had built strong muscles under a thin layer of cushioning. They cupped Izzy’s face with their hand, turning him to look at them.

“You are gorgeous, Izzy,” they said sincerely. They could tell from the flash of doubt in Izzy’s eyes that he didn’t believe them, but they knew that they would never stop trying to make him believe it. Deciding not to push the subject, Mo pulled him down into a kiss. They could feel goosebumps rising as their bare arms rested on Izzy’s exposed shoulders, one hand curled into his hair and the other resting on his muscled back. They could feel the heat coming off of him through their thin undershirt as he wrapped his arms around them, holding them tightly.

The two broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other’s.

“Come on,” Mo whispered, giving him a small smile. “Let’s get you to bed.”

They reluctantly removed their hands from Izzy’s body, picking up one of his hands instead. They let him lead them to the bed, sitting down and scootching to the far end after he lifted the blankets up for them. Izzy sat on the edge of the bed and undid the laces on his boots, kicking them off and setting them to the side near the desk. He leaned over to extinguish the lantern sitting on the desk, then tucked his legs under the blanket, settling down for the night. Once their eyes adjusted to the dark, Izzy wrapped an arm around Mo and pulled them over to lay on his chest.

Mo reached out to run their thumb along his jaw, smiling as they felt his stubble. Izzy gently took their roaming hand, toying with their fingers as he sighed gently. After a moment, he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to their knuckles.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” Mo asked. “Or will you be off doing your first mate duties?”

“I’ll probably be up before you, but I’ll try not to wake you.” They grinned. “That’s not why I was asking, but thank you. I was just thinking about how nice it would be to spend the morning together, but I get it.” They snuggled closer to him, smiling to themselves. “You’re a busy man. I’ll just take the time I can get.”

Izzy sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay, but Bonnet’s crew could get themselves killed by noon without guidance.”

Mo giggled, propping their chin up on his chest to look up at him. “You do remember that I’m a part of that crew, right?”

He frowned. “Well, present company excluded, of course.”

“Alright, well I appreciate you heroically saving the lives of my friends,” Mo said sarcastically, tracing a scar on Izzy’s chest with their finger. They sighed happily as they settled back down, relishing the feel of the gentle rise and fall of his breathing under their head. “Guess we should get some sleep,” they said reluctantly. “Goodnight, Izzy.”

A rough hand ran up their arm, making them feel warm and fuzzy inside. They let the repetitive motion lull them into drowsiness, knowing they were safe in Izzy’s arms.

“Goodnight, love.”

[dapurinthos]

on kohlma: dooku: i am taking advantage of the memory holes that episodes of mental illness leave behind to perform nefarious deeds before i need to take this child to the bogg-3 jedi outpost for a check-up. ari: oh so this is the bad place. meanwhile, on coruscant: mace: teach that boy you found to keep his thoughts to himself so i don't get more headaches, qui-gon. qui-gon: *opens mouth* ki-adi-mundi: say 'chosen one' one more time. i fucking dare you. lene: hey where's my padawan's padawan. yoda: sent away for their own health they were. lene: ... where. yoda: in the presence of one with whom they share a first-contact bond they are. lene: this is the bad place.

aka 'hey there's a jedi chapterhouse on one of the moons of bogden. u kno who's also on one of the moons of bogden. the same one as one of dooku's castles?'

subtitled: @bolithesenate i blame you.

Someone is tapping their fingers against their thumb. A nervous tick, silenced. The index finger taps first, and then again, followed by the second. A third rendition consists of the index, second, and third tapping in quick succession. The fourth incorporates its numerical equal. There is no fifth version. It begins again, with a single tap of the index finger. It’s not nails against skin. It’s a bloodier taste than that. Where there should exist fingerprints, there is nothing but icy smoothness. There are conductive patches there, like winter gloves with the ability to facilitate the use of touchscreens. No fingernails moulded into the prosthetic to scratch with. Why is that the first use for fingernails? I twitch my own fingers, matching the rhythm. One. One-two, one-two-three, one-two-three-four. It matches to the other hand, the one that’s not my own, the one that has hinges instead of articular cartilage. I’ve caught myself up on another person, loose threads hooked by a prickle-bush. By a broken fingernail. Tap. Tap, tap. Broken fingers, shattered fingers. My hand doesn’t feel right, with its flesh and sinew and fascia and — “Stop.” Dooku’s voice cuts through the twisting thoughts unravelling me. The metal fingers still, then form a fist. Rage flares out like the first stage of a nuclear explosion, knife-edged delirium dissipating into a snaggle of hatred-agitation-panic-indignant-furious-how-dare mounting into absolute apoplexy that slaps me in the face with a skirling high-pitched enough to make my blood run cold. I stumble back inside myself, pulling the curtains shut to block out the noise. I have covers to hide under, but I need more than that. “Where did you learn that?”

[niphredil-14]

From Dying to Dyeing (Jason Todd/GN!Reader)

He stood in front of the bathroom sink, staring at his reflection, unmoving for what was mere seconds to him, though to the world had been several minutes. They took notice, they always did, almost as if they had some sixth sense for when their lover boy was feeling less than his worth. And so, they went to him, steps and movements loud enough to alert, but not to startle, and wrapped their arms around his waist.

“’m okay.” But his voice was tight, and the body doesn’t lie. They could feel him tense, his pulse picking up speed just a bit, the corners of his lips pulled taut, and his irises shaking ever so slightly. They knew it was a lie, though more intended for himself than for them, and responded by squeezing his torse in a quick, one-two fashion, and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his shoulder. He sighed and lifted a hand to the white streak at the front of his dark curls, twirling the strands around his index finger in slow counterclockwise circles. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, voice rumbling through his chest and back, reverberating into theirs. “I fuckin’ hate this thing. ‘S like a constant reminder that I wasn’t strong enough.”

“You were a child, Jay. A child that was seriously wronged. None of it was your fault, baby.” His hand left the colorless streak, and moved to rest atop theirs, his eyes downcast.

“Maybe.” He was clearly in one of his rare, non-argumentative moods.

---

Morning light streamed through the windows, gracing the two figures perched on the worn, dark green sofa with warmth. He sat on one end, legs spread out, reaching to the other end and then some, resting on top of theirs. He held a book, some old copy of an Austen novel that he’d read many a time. They sat on the opposite end of the couch, thoughts swimming and swirling in their mind like the coffee in their mug. Their voice broke him from his focus on the ink filled pages.

“Jay Love? Do you think I’m good-looking?” The question was spoken quietly, but against the silence of their shared living space, it felt as though its volume could rival that of a mosh pit. He looked up at them, placing a bookmark between the pages, and softly pressed the covers together, placing the tome on the coffee table. 

“Of course, sweetheart, I’ve never seen anybody that looks better than you.” He looked at them softly, questions swirling like a storm in the waters of his eyes. “The most beautiful, the most handsome, the most attractive person I’ve ever had the honor of knowing.” 

“What if I had features that you didn’t like though?”

“You don’t. I love all of you, and there isn’t one part of you that I don’t find absolutely radiant, doll.” They sighed and twitched and pursed their lip from side to side.

“But for argument’s sake, Jason. What if I changed my appearance to something you didn’t find attractive? What then?” He leaned forward and grabbed their chin between his index and thumb, turning them to face him. 

“Y/n, no matter how you changed, no matter what you lost or gained, no matter what you did, there is no aspect of you that I couldn’t love, that I wouldn’t learn to love.”

“You mean that, Jay?”

“Of course, baby, why do you ask?” They smiled softly.

“No real reason, I’ve just been considering dyeing my hair.”

---

The apartment was quiet, except for the soft electric buzzing of the yellow light, flickering above their head. He had gone out on patrol that night, and it was their turn to stand before the bathroom mirror, fiddling with their hair. A bottle of hair bleach sat on the counter, and a brush rested in their gloved hands. It was a risky move, but if it went well, then it might just help Jay, and that was worth any risk they could take. They went through the motions, and before long, they had a thin white streak at the forefront of their hair. Not long after they finished cleaning up did he arrive home, wearing his full Red Hood save for the helmet, which was slung under his arm. Immediately, he took notice of their hair and stopped to gape at them. 

“Whaddya think?” They smiled at him.

“Why?” he said back, dumbfounded, walking over to them and rubbing the white strands between his fingers.

“You said you’d learn to love any of my features, didn’t you?” He gave a small nod and hum in response. “Well, now you’ll be learning to love yours too.” 

He paused for a moment, and then leaned down to kiss them, a small smile pressed against their mouth. 

“Thanks, doll.” he murmured against their lips, breath fanning across their face.

“Anything for you, darling.” they replied.

[aemonds-sapphire]

Coffee Run - Hawks x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Hawks simply wanted to enjoy his coffee in peace, but you had needs of your own, especially knowing he was entering his rut. You know what they say... be careful with what you wish for, because you just might get it.

Warnings: NSFW. Rut!Hawks. Feral Hawks. Public sex. Breeding kink. Pregnancy kink. Lactation kink (brief mention). Featherplay. Slight overstimulation.

Word count: 3.7k

Hawks was nearing his rut. That much was clear. Keeping up an easy going appearance was what he excelled at, until he hit that particular time of the year. Until he was forced to take that medication that would suppress his primal instinct to breed.

But rarely anything in this world came without bearing unpleasant consequences.

“I’ll just have the usual. Thanks.”

The young waitress then turned to you expectantly. “And you, miss?”

You pondered for a second as you eyed the pro hero sitting in front of you. To anyone oblivious to the changes occurring in his body they might think he was just not a morning person.

An idea popped in your mind all of a sudden.

“I’ll have a strawberry lollipop,” you finally said, causing Hawks to briefly lift his eyes from the phone in his hand. “What? I have a sweet tooth.”

The waitress nodded and walked away. He was still glaring at you, one fuzzy eyebrow slightly arched.

“Just that? It’s not a proper breakfast.”

“Neither is coffee, yet here we are.”

He shrugged at your response, shifting his attention back to his phone.

Coffee was his personal mood booster. It was dangerous to demand anything from a rutting Hawks until he had drunk an unhealthy amount of it.

The sun was barely out, and that was exactly why he’d choose this café. Only a few people would be there, which meant he wouldn’t have to deal with loud fans walking up to him and asking for selfies or autographs... or even hugs. It was perfect to hide from everyone how moody and snappy he could get in times like these.

But you figured he still wasn’t taking the medication. He always dreaded it because of how groggy and lethargic it’d leave him.

“You okay?”

He had his index finger flicking up and down on the screen. “Sure.”

But what Hawks didn’t know was that... well... you knew what why he was acting so unlike him.

Soon after, the waitress came back with a large cup of coffee and your lollipop that you promptly snatched from the tray with a smile.

Hawks mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ and you watched him take a few gulps of the hot beverage, while you removed the wrapping.

He sighed in pure relief as his huge wings vibrated from the instant pleasure. “I really needed this.”

You also reckoned he needed something else.

Sliding the round candy in your mouth, you propped your chin on interlaced fingers, regarding him quizzically.

“Is that all you need?”

The apparent innocent question had his golden eyes meet yours. However, you needed them to travel south, so you parted your lips seductively and dangled the lollipop from one corner of your mouth to the other with your tongue.

Bingo.

Hawks’ eyes dropped to your mouth in an instant, taking in the sight of you skilfully twirling the stick while letting out some lewd wet sounds.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I love sucking...” you said innocently.

The cup in his hand cracked lightly from his tight grip, and a faint frown settled on his beautiful face.

“You sure you okay?”

For someone who was able to maintain an wavering smile not matter the circumstances, Hawks really was falling behind his reputation. Maybe it wasn’t wise for you to keep pushing him like this. All the innuendos and teasing would eventually get him to snap.

You kept on sucking and licking the hard candy happily, eyeing your boyfriend with utmost interest.

He took another sip of his hot coffee, and you noticed his pupils were slightly dilated. Undoubtedly, the visual of you sucking on something was a enough to spark his arousal.

“Hmm... this tastes so good...” you moaned softly, fluttering your eyes shut for a brief moment. “Want to taste it?”

When he didn’t reply, you decided to take it up a notch. You kicked off your shoe and moved it to touch his leg.

He arched an eyebrow.

Slowly, you began sliding it up his leg and only stopped once you’d reached his inner thigh.

“Stop...”

You let the round candy caress your bottom lip, making sure he could see strings of your saliva sliding down to coat your tongue. Mustering a bit more courage, you dragged your feet until it reached his crotch.

Hawks was hard as a rock.

“You’re so warm...” you whispered, rubbing your foot against his cock.

You could tell he was about to snap.

“Hawks? Honey, look! It’s Hawks!”

You quickly turned your head to look at a young couple that was approaching your table. It couldn’t be avoided. Even in the early hours there would always be someone who was a fan of Hawks.

Hawks was forced to regain his composure, and you figure it was taking every single fibre in his body to produce his trademark unwavering grin.

The woman seemed a little hesitant at first. “Are we interrupting something? I’m so sorry... we are big fans.”

“You are such an inspiration to us,” the man added with excitement.

“Thank you!” Hawks beamed, his beautiful features never betraying what was going on under the table. “Want an autograph?”

She quickly nodded, rummaging through her purse to get a pen. “Our baby will love you, too. We’ll make sure of that.”

Hawks visibly swallowed. “Baby?”

“Yes! We found out we’re going to be parents last week.”

You side-eyed him closely. Inwardly, you started cackling in delight, knowing far too well this was one of Hawks’ most intimate triggers. It was far too obvious that being in his rut made it all much worse for him

“Congratulations! How is everything going?” you inquired sweetly, applying gentle pressure on his covered erection with your toes.

He shifted in his seat, doing his best to cope with the sudden stimulation coming from you.

The woman seemed taken aback by your kindness and quickly bowed her head while handing the pen to Hawks.

“Oh, the morning sickness can be quite draining, but otherwise I can’t complain.”

Her partner handed Hawks a copy of a magazine that had him on the cover. He blushed awkwardly. “She keeps it in her purse in case we run into you so we can get an autograph.”

“That’s awesome,” he said genuinely, his voice slightly strained as he drew his signature on it. “Thanks for the support.”

The couple retrieved the magazine and bowed to both of you before walking away.

“That is so cool...” you said, twirling the lollipop stick in between your thumb and index finger. “I wonder what it feels like being pregnant.”

Hawks moved your foot away from his crotch. “Bathroom. Now.”

Your mouth fell open at his sudden outburst, sliding your foot back into your shoe. “Why?”

He rose to his full height as his red wings quivered slightly. “I’m done with you.”

Placing the hard candy back on its wrapping, you gulped as you followed his lead. The café had started to get more clients, and some of them shot a few glares at the winged hero.

The waitress was eyeing both of you. “Is everything okay?”

Hawks shot a brief smile. “She’s not feeling well.”

He certainly had a way to have things go his way.

She looked at yo worriedly. “Should I get help?”

Hawks hurried you into the bathroom, before adding. “She’s with the number two pro hero. I’m all the help she needs.”

Point taken.

Hawks pulled you into a small cubicle, shutting the door with a kick. You heard the lock rattle and you took the opportunity turn around to face him. His massive wings struggled to fit inside the confined space, which caused him to look more menacing as they coiled up against his body.

“You’re rutting.”

His pupils were fully blown and you briefly saw something flash in his eyes. “Of course you know.”

“I know a lot of things,” you cooed, dragging down one hand to squeeze him through his pants. “You’re not taking your medication.”

You’d been dating Hawks for a few months now, and you found out that he went through a rut every year by mere chance. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots after hearing a phone conversation between him and someone from the commission — you assumed it was a doctor —, who insisted that Hawks had to take the hormonal suppressant medication to lessen the effects, allowing him to function properly.

“I don’t fucking need it,” he snarled at you through gritted teeth.

“I think you do... if you’re so willing to fuck me in a public bathroom,” you whispered seductively, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “I wonder what made you snap... was it the conversation about pregnancy... or—“

Hawks had had enough of your running your mouth, and with little effort on his part, he flipped you over so that you were now pressed against the bathroom sink, a tall mirror capturing your surprised expression along with his feral one.

“No, little bird...” he growled, hooking his gloved fingers in the belt loops of your pants. “I am not gonna fuck you. I’m gonna breed you.”

It was a dark promise, and one you knew he could keep. After all, that was the purpose of a rut: to breed. Every single cell in his body was prepared for this, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend this sudden shift in Hawks’ demeanor didn’t make your pussy clench.

Your hands were supporting your weight by gripping the edge of the cold material of the sink, and you tentatively leaned forward in an attempt to brush against his crotch.

Hawks slid one hand to your front, effectively undoing your pants. “You’re ovulating... fuck...”

That caught by surprise. “What...”

He shifted his body on top of yours, so he could nuzzle your neck, capturing your scent.

“I can smell it... fuck...fuck... you need to be bred...”

In one swift motion, he yanked your pants down. Hawks was usually so much more gentle with you during sex; this was definitely something unexpected, but that you couldn’t stop yourself from yearning.

On the other hand, you considered his words for a moment. Did he really mean it? Did he really want to knock you up, or was this just his hormones talking?

Either way, this was turning you on beyond belief, and you decided to egg him on.

“You want to breed me?”

He was nipping at your neck, causing a few of his moans to be heard. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

“I need to knock you up... I need you tummy all swollen with my baby,” the young man kept mumbling more to himself than to you, but you couldn’t get enough of it. “I need your... your...”

A gush of wetness leaked out of your pussy as you felt him fumbling with his belt. Through the reflection in the mirror, you could see a faint blush settling on his face, increasing his handsomeness by a tenfold — you didn’t even know how that was possible.

“My what...” your voice came out in a low mewl, keeping your hips swaying at a steady pace.

Hawks undid his pants at once, and gave your ass cheeks a few slaps with his leaking cock.

He gripped your hip tightly. “Let me see your tits...”

You kept yourself balance on one hand as the other dragged the fabric of your shirt up, rolling it just above your breasts. Hawks released his cock, bringing his hips forward to have it slide between your round cheeks; you could start to feel the wetness coating your skin and standing your panties as he kept humping you. His free hand moved to grasp your bra, jerking the material down and finally exposing your hardening nipples.

Hawks heaved a deep breath, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your body through the mirror.

“Can’t wait until they get bigger... full of milk... leaking for me...” he brushed his gloved thumb across your sensitive nipple, causing it to harden even more. “I bet it will taste so good... so sweet... you know I love sweet things.”

Your mind was going blank from all the pleasure being delivered to you at once. From his cock slowly fucking your ass cheeks all the way to the way he was glaring at you through some public bathroom mirror while spitting out the filthiest things you had ever heard him utter.

He snapped his hips hard for a split second, almost causing you to lose balance, forcing you to grip the sink with both hands, eyes still fixed on the way your breasts bounced softly along with each shove from him.

Slowly, he dragged his hand to your lower abdomen, massaging it with spread fingers. “Fuck... I need to feel it getting swollen... gonna knock you up so good.”

Streaks of precum were sliding down your cheeks, leaving wet trails behind and sending jolts of pleasure running down your spine.

“Sorry, but I’m gonna make you cum fast,” he suddenly said.

You weren’t really sure why he was apologizing for that, or even how he intended to achieve such feat. Hawks was more than capable of pleasuring women, but even the most skilled man certainly had his limitations when it came to how fast they could make a woman reach her high.

Even so, apologizing for giving someone an orgasm probably ranked up high with the likes of “Sorry, but I’m going to give you a new house” or “Sorry, but I’m going to give you an unlimited supply of money”. Out of all the things he could feel sorry for — like desperately banging you in some public bathroom, for example—, that one should be the least of his concerns.

As if reading the skepticism splattered across your face, he gave you a knowing smile, and before you could even wonder what he meant by that you felt something poking your covered clit.

What the...

“Hawks!”

You didn’t expect desperate Hawks to play fair, but this was on another level. The fabric covering your soaked pussy was being pulled to the side, and in no time a velvety object started proving your pulsing clit.

He was using his feathers.

Now you knew what he meant by making you cum fast, the bastard. The sensation was overwhelming, and you vaguely wondered why he had never tried this before.

“Shh... I need you to cum first, so I can have your pussy milking my cock,” he pressed a kiss on your neck. “Be a good girl and keep your voice down.”

With one hand still caressing your tummy and the other squeezing one breasts softly, you tried hard to bite back your moans as his feather kept stroking your clit as he commanded.

You started panting heavily, drunk in pleasure. “I... I... Hawks...”

Seeing that you weren’t going to be able to keep quiet, he brought the hand on your breast to clamp it over your mouth.

“You’re so ready for me... I can feel the vibrations through my feather... you’re throbbing so much for me, baby...”

And it was the absolute truth. Your were absolutely sure his feather was already drenched in your juices, but you didn’t care at all. A few more flicks and strokes sent your hips into auto-pilot, trying to get more friction.

Long and drawn out moans erupted from your throat only to be muffled by his gloved hand.

You could feel something in your core swirling and shifting and through the haze of passion, you could tell it was the tension building up inside you that was reaching a dangerous peak.

“Good girl... t-that’s my girl... getting ready for me to breed her...”

His dirty talk served as the perfect incentive for you to get closer and closer to the edge. You saw your vision begin to tunnel and suddenly you fell headfirst into the explosion of pleasure that had your arms and legs shake violently, and you thanked the heavens that Hawks’ body was pressed against yours, or you’d have sunk to your feet.

But before your pussy could stop contracting around nothing, you felt your body being pushed forward and in one quick slide, his cock was buried deep inside you.

Hawks’ hips faltered for a second as he adjusted to your tightness. “Fuck!”

The feather brushing your clit stopped its ministrations, and as your field of vision started clearing, you saw it hovering in front of your face. It was completely covered in your juices and a few droplets dripped onto the sink. His hand fell to grip your hip, and your lips immediately parted in a silent scream as overstimulation took over.

“Keep it open... lick... lick it...” he groaned, his voice strained and shaky as his cock endured your contractions.

You extended your tongue out, allowing is feather to drag along it, pooling your wetness on your tongue.

Hawks’ reflection shivered before your eyes at the newfound source of pleasure. “F-fuuuck... just like that...”

His wings fluttered as so did the feather stroking your muscle, and even though your orgasm had already subsided, the never ending stimulation from his thick cock hitting deep inside you was just too much.

“I’m gonna lose it! Fuck!” he nearly cried out, ad you could only pray that no one could hear him outside.

Your knees bucked weakly as he snapped his hips into you once, twice and again closing in on his own release, but the moment you ran your tongue over the sensitive extension of his body you knew he was done for. He bucked up to meet your hips in an especially sharp thrust and you could feel the hot gush of his cum deep inside you, coating your trembling walls, mixing with your own juices.

He hadn’t lasted long, but you weren’t at all surprised, considering how much the vast array of different stimuli that he was subjected to in such a sort amount of time.

A few seconds ticked by, and he finally began pulling out, you pussy reflexively clamping around him as if to make him stay.

“Stop clenching like that before I get hard again...” he warned, giving your ass a soft smack as he slid out completely with a loud slurping sound.

You whimpered softly as emptiness filled you instead. As you were about to straighten yourself, you felt a blob of cum threading to spill, and Hawks promptly kept you leaning forward.

“I didn’t just fill you with a big load for you to waste it all,” and with that, he dragged the tip of his cock along your leaking pussy and pushed it back inside. “There you go... all stuffed again.”

The head of his cock didn’t stay inside you for long, and once he slid out you reached for paper from the dispenser hanging on the wall.

He grabbed your arm. “No.”

“I need to clean myself...”

“No, you don’t,” Hawks whispered sweetly into your ear, and you felt him tug at your panties before letting the fabric slap your over sensitive clit. “You’re gonna be a good girl and keep it all in.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Certainly, he didn’t mean that....

“Hawks... I can’t walk around with your cum dripping from me,” you stated as a matter of fact.

You saw his reflection in the mirror; he had a devious smile dancing on his lips, making your insides coil in sudden realization.

“Didn’t you want me to breed you? Then keep my cum inside your tight pussy,” he began, planting soft caring kisses on the side of your neck in between. “Think you can do that for me, beautiful?”

Feeling your panties sticking to your swollen lips with the aftermath of both your juices and drops of his cum made a shiver run down you entire body.

You nodded once.

Suddenly, he bent over slightly to grasp the waistband of your pants, quickly dragging them up your thighs.

“Time to go,” he huffed as one of his gloved hands brushed along his unruly golden locks of hair. “This was just meant to be a quick coffee run.”

There was a faint smudge of pink crossing his nose and resting on both his cheeks. He looked positively less tense, with his blush being the only indicator that he had just emptied his balls deep inside you.

He unlocked the door and exited first, but not before shooting his Hawks-like smile at you. “I’ll be going ahead to pay and deal with the fans.”

You chuckled as the door closed, and turned to look at your reflection in the mirror while adjusting your clothes. “Well... don’t look at me like that. He’s impossible to resist, especially like this...”

After you were done washing your hands, you took a few steps immediately feeling a few drops of cum dripping onto your panties. You clenched your pussy hard in the hopes of preventing more from spilling.

This was not going to end well.

Taking a deep breath, you walked out and were met with the waitress. “Oh! Are you alright now?”

Yeah, I just got fucked hard and I have cum leaking from me. “Yes! Thank you, and sorry for leaving like that... I really wasn’t feeling well.”

She nodded in understanding, stepping aside to let you walk into the lobby only to see a loud commotion of people piling up around something. Big massive turfs of scarlet feathers quickly gave it away and you smiled fondly.

Hawks.

A few girls standing nearby were giggling to each other, catching your attention.

“Oh my... he’s so much more handsome up close,” one said with a dreamy sigh.

“His wings are so pretty...” the other murmured.

Yes. Hawks had that effect on nearly everyone he crossed paths with. In one way or another, people had the tendency to fall fo him and be drawn by his quirky personality. Even if at the end of the day, once he got home, you could see the wearing effects of having to keep up with this society’s standards.

As the crowd began to disperse, he waved a hand at you.

“It was so nice to have you here, Hawks,” the young waitress blurted out as you two made your exit. “Please come again!”

The number two pro hero bowed his head and gave her a thumbs up. “I’m sure I will. Very soon,” he winked at you.

Very poor choice of words.

-

Masterlist

[plush-rabbit]

Aphrodisiac Induced Angel and Sorcerer

Word Count: 1K Each

A/N: i have nothing to say except that grass can’t fix my thristing. i also like to think that solomon would be a complete mess if given the chance to be with mc in an intimate way

-

Intro:

The angel can’t help but bounce in his steps as he walks up the steps of the House of Lamentation. You invited him over for help on a project. Simeon would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a twinge of pride at you coming to him for help. Surely, you could have gone to the brothers or anyone else, but you chose him. He smiles at the thought, grabbing the handle of the front door and letting himself in. The cold air of the house stings against his skin, warm from his own internal heat but also from the walk. Perhaps, if he’s lucky, he’ll be able to spend time afterwards with you where studying won’t be the thing that keeps you two together but rather you wanting him to be there. For now, the time that he has with you will remain uninterrupted and while that may not last long, he only pleads with himself that perhaps you’ll become distracted and in turn you’ll lose focus and beg for him to pay attention to you, textbooks forgotten and only the sound of your laughter filling his ears.

It’s wishful thinking, thinking that has his face burn in fear that somehow Father is listening to his every thought and watching him with unblinking and judgemental eyes. His breath catches in his throat, suffocating him and he has to remind himself, mumbling under his breath that as long as he’s in Devildom, he remains unseen. He walks into the kitchen, opting to calm himself before he accompanies you- he doesn’t want the time that he spends with you to be sullied by something frivolous as thinking. At the kitchen table sits a plate of baked goods, a lovely handwritten note creeping from under it, warning the reader to not eat any of the treats.

The time that he spends in Devildom must be corrupting him. He’s sure of it. His glove is dotted with crumbs, his eyes glancing towards the entryway grateful that no one is there to watch as he takes a bite out of something that he was warned not to. It’s not as if there should be much harm to it, there were plenty on the plate and there still are. The treat melts in his mouth, burning his tongue and making his eyes water. It burns him and he takes more, scarfing down the treat and leaning over the counter, his eyes wide and body now aflame. It tastes so familiar, the way that the treat melts in his mouth and weighs heavy on his tongue, so sweet that it must be a crime.

His chest is tight, his hand scratching down the counter and his head grows foggy. Simeon walks towards you, knocking gingerly at the door, his chest still and lungs burning with the desire to breathe- to breathe in something, anything, your own scent, something so intoxicating that it fills his lungs with the sweet relief of air. Looking at you, he wonders if this is what it feels like to be human, to want and have your own body constrict around itself despite knowing its sin.

Simeon:

Simeon doesn’t know why he goes to you. He’s aware of what’s happening to him- the burning desire deep in him, the way that the thought of you makes his heart beat against his chest in a way that makes him scared it’ll actually rupture past his ribs and spill his blood on the floor beneath him. He can hear you come to the door, the shadow under the small space and the twisting of the knob. His breath hitches in his throat when he looks at you, his mind swirling with thoughts of you- wanting to hold you, wanting to kiss you, wanting to pin you against your bed and kiss your neck. You call his name and he collapses into your arms, his hands grasping fitsfuls of your shirt in his hand. His breath is ragged, heavy and puffing against your bare neck and you stumble when he walks forward, out of the way from the doorframe, far enough to kick the door close. He isn’t sure what he is doing, but he knows that when he’s beside you, he’s breathing in your scent and that only makes him want to pull you closer.

You’re the only thought he has in his mind- the only one that he is able to make sense of. He leans against you, his eyes closing and his grip on you tightening. He whispers an apology, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, his voice sweet as he lets his lips graze against your earlobe and rest on your neck. His apologies are slurred, his weight leaning against you as he clings to you tightly. He confesses that he had eaten something he shouldn’t have and now he stands in your arms with a cock that throbs in the confines of his pants. He flinches at your touch, burying his head into the crook of your neck, whining when your hand parts through his hair and your fingertips lay at the base of his neck. If he had known what the effects of the sweet would have been he would have never taken it, he promises with a shaky breath.

It’s hard to think when you’re so close to him. His mind is foggy and the only thing he can think about is how sweet you smell, how earthly and the scent of your cream faint against his nose. He’s desperate, gingerly pressing himself close to your thigh only to flinch when he makes contact. Your heart beats, pulsing against his lips and he wonders what you’d taste like, how you’d feel under his lips and before he’s even able to think about that, he starts to cry, clinging close to you with tears that glisten down the curve of his face. His eyes are brimmed with tears, begging for you to take care of him. The pulsing is too much, he can’t think and the only thing that can even come close to a thought is you. He falls to his knees, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him, his face pressed against your plump stomach. He begs for your forgiveness- his straight up perversion as he cries against you, unable to take the growing ache in his pants.

Sin starts to overtake him, pulling him close and leading him to the bed where he lies above your comforter, his hands covering his face and his legs shaking. He can already feel semen leak past his briefs and stain the inside of his pants from just the simple guidance to your bed. Despite the sin that he commits, you treat him with kindness, cupping his face and shushing him when his sob catches in his throat. Your hands flutter to his thighs, squeezing the muscle and he can hear your breathless laugh when he jerks in response. He begs for no more teasing, he doesn’t think he can handle it when he’s already in such a vulnerable position. As pitiful as it is, he lets out a whine when you unzip his pants but you don’t laugh and through the gaps between his fingers, he can see you smile softly down at him. You pet his cock between the briefs, his breath catching is his throat as he watches you toy with the outline of his cock. More semen leaks, staining his briefs in a darker color.

His breath is still sweet, his heart beating against his chest and his eyes filled with tears, as he shuts his eyes when his cock meets the cool air of your room. Your hand wraps around his cock, and arches his back into your loose fist. His bulging base is firm as it throbs in your hand, small ripples that form underneath your palm as you give a tentative squeeze. The angel beside you is adorned with a flushed face, his eyes shining with unshed tears and your name on his lips. Your hands leave his cock and he shakes his head, muttering “no” under his breath. He’s already felt you and he’s so drunk off of love and want, that he can’t bear for you to move away from him. Not when you’re so close. You pull him upwards, letting him rest beside you, your body close to his as your hand wraps around his cock, lazily pumping him. He hides his face, panting and thrusting his hips in a sloppy fashion to meet your hand. Simeon is under the light of your room, the pale orange glow and the stars that peek between your curtain, his cock twitching and spilling in a pearly white onto your hand that cradles him gently. There’s a building pressure in his stomach, one that makes him eager to kiss you and touch you despite everything in him screaming that this action is already too far. As if you could read his distressed thoughts, your hand flutters to his face, lifting him upwards to kiss at the corner of his lips. His tongue lolls out, gasping for breath and your thumb runs over his ridges. Your name is repeated, sullied by the angel’s lustful nature as he spills his seed in your hands, and he reaches out, leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss that only makes his leg shake in ecstasy.

Intro:

Solomon walks into the House of Lamentation, taking great glee that everyone else happens to be busy with some task that pertains to their specific realm. While he, however, gets to indulge in some quality alone time with you. He walks into the house, his smile creeping as the house is silent. He really does have you all to himself- he gets to just sit around and talk to you without disturbance. His tongue peeks to wet his lips, his mouth dry and thirst lingers to linger. You already know that he’s here, having messaged you early, he calls your name, letting you know that he’s in the kitchen. He can hear a muffled reply, one that he can’t quite make out due to the thick walls. Assuming that you might have asked for a drink, he pulls two out of the fridge, setting them down on the counter.

In the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of something shining under the light, his attention now turned to it. On the counter sits a glass covered plate with neatly arranged baked sweets inside of it. There’s a sticky note attached- elegant handwriting that tells the reader not to take one without permission. There’s plenty of them, and finding no harm in taking just one, he does a quick glance around the room to make sure it is empty. With delicate hands, he lifts the glass cover, grabbing a sweet and taking a bite. It’s sweet, overly so, filling his mouth and yet, in the next bite, it’s perfect- soft and sweet, the sweet melting in his mouth. He eats the remainder, licking his lips, taking another quick glance to the entrance of the kitchen, he reaches for another. As he does so, you call his name, his body turning towards your voice and walking towards you as if he were in a trance.

Being around the Avatar of Lust should have prepared Solomon for any hints of aphrodisiacs. It wouldn’t be his time that he’s been engulfed with the sweet scent of one, nor the lingering taste that sits heavy on his tongue and makes his teeth ache with sweetness. And yet, he doesn’t notice the fogginess in his mind until he stands at your door. His mouth is filled with cotton, his chest tight with labored breathing that puffs past his lips, and he can hardly think straight. All that Solomon knows is that he wants to be near you and not in the way that he usually wants- to hold your hand and be seated by you, but in a way much more intimate that makes his face flush and skin burn. His feet drag against the floor, his eyes heavy and he can feel the pulsing of his cock, and the beating of his heart that beats in his rib cage. Your voice sounds closer, still muffled by the door, but he can hear you, he can hear your bed creak and the sound of your footsteps walking towards the door.

Solomon:

The few seconds that it takes you to arrive at your door are the longest that the sorcerer has ever gone through. He can hear your steps, he can feel the air shaft and his mouth is filled with drool. He wonders if his face is still flushed, blood pooling in his cheeks or he’s finally returned to a normal color. Despite the twisting in his stomach and the familiar pang of want, Solomon greets you at your door, smiling cheerfully and teasing at how fast you came rushing to the door. He’s quick to rush to your bed, sitting cross legged and trying to ignore the wave of pleasure that sends a chill down his spine. He lets out a shaky breath, masking it as a breathless laugh when you give him an odd look. He only shakes his head and asks for you to sit beside him, patting the bed as he smiles. He knows what courses through his veins, he’s felt this effect multiple times in his life, and while he’s dealt with them before, he doesn’t want you to see him in such a vulnerable state, not when he’d be so fixated on his own pleasure that he’d deprive you of your own. He bites at the inside of his cheek and chastises himself for thinking that you’d even help him with his issue. He got himself into this mess, and he won’t drag you into it.

He can’t stand the look in your eyes- the confusion mixed with concern as your brows furrow and your lips pout. Yet, he continues to smile, asking for you to join him on the bed, color returning to his face when his mind wanders at the sound of his sentence. You walk quickly to him and he looks down, staring at the floorboards and gulping the salvia that has pooled in his mouth. His name is called and the sweet sound of it leaving your lips makes his heart ache- a soft whisper, his name cooed and your hands resting over his shoulders. He hums in response, keeping his head down. Your hands are soft compared to his, calluses that have formed over the ages while yours remain soft, a gentle touch that has long been forgotten. He peers upwards, letting his chin rest against your palm and the look you give him makes his lungs deflate, his heart pounding reactivity against his chest and face going red once more. You ask him if he’s all right, and he wishes that he could say yes. He wishes that he could remember the spell it was to wash away the effects of the aphrodisiac. All he wanted to do was spend the day with you. He is unable to lie to you, chuckling nervously with his hand scratching at the back of his head.

It’s much easier to stare at your closet as he explains. After all, it sounds so silly to tell you that he had eaten something that he was warned to not have eaten. He tells you how he had consumed something, an aphrodisiac that makes him unable to think properly. He’s lucky enough that he can explain it but even so, the ache in his stomach won’t lessen, his chest deflates, his voice going hoarse as he apologizes to you. He really had meant to spend the day with you, but now, he sits on your bed, defiling the very place you rest, with himself. Your hand falls from his face and for that short second where you aren’t touching him, makes his heart drop. But then, you cup his face and sit on his lap and it’s enough for his mind to spiral, his hands catching himself as he leans backwards,a heavy flush crossing over his nose and filling his face. Your hands cup his face and he can only stare at you with his mouth parted, his eyes glancing to your lips that smile at him. The aphrodisiac hits him hard when you touch him, his cock throbbing and pressing against the side of our thigh. He doesn’t know if you’re teasing him or if he’s allowed to lean into your touch. His body is on fire, his eyes widening and your lips ghost over his. You call his name and he nods his head, whispering a feeble plea for you to kiss him.

The kiss is soft, a gentle press against his lips but he wants more. He needs more. He feels as if he’s about to die if he doesn’t get more. He whines against your lips, grasping onto your shirt with shaky hands and pulling you closer to him, shifting to let the tent in his pants rub against your thigh. The tight friction makes him deepen the kiss, his tongue running over your bottom lip as his hands twist your shirt in his hands. He’s flustered, whining and breaking the kiss to whisper who he needs more, how he’s aching for your touch. Your hand rests over his thigh, his muscles twitching in response to you being there, to you even touching him. Slowly, you move upwards, every inch leaving him shaking. Finally, your hands reach over his cock, cupping the tent and palming it gently. He moans into your mouth, pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily as you undo his zipper, and pull away at his briefs, letting his cock spring free, an opaque white dotting at his cock and slipping down his head.

Every feeling in his body is intensified, the blood that rushes throughout his body, the way that his saliva is heavy on his tongue, the vein on his cock that sends a pins and needles throughout his body when you rub your thumb over it- he’s breathing heavily, his hands loosening around you, only to tighten and grip at your shirt, pulling you close and telling you to continue, begging for more. His cock throbs in your hand, creamy discharge spilling over and staining himself. He lets out a moan, broken and rippled with gasps as he begs for you to continue, his cock still so sensitive and spurting out his seed. You continue on, leaving him with tears racing down his face, his voice cracking as he speaks, his cock still erect with your hand over it. You slowly lead him down, letting him lay above you, your legs spread and the shorts that you wear riding up, revealing your plump thighs. Solomon is above you, his lips pressing against yours, lining his cock between your thighs as he humps you, holding you close with tears in his eyes as he thanks you, letting his semen taint your covers.

[infinitcnexus]

redemptioninchaos:

“All I did was give you a chance to redeem yourself. Do you think that primer appeared in your apartment by accident?” Quinn chuckled in spite of Shrike. “You learned Portuguese so quickly with that enchanted book, and you managed to make such a crucial mistake. Here I was, hoping you’d be able to repay my kindness in a more dignified way. But it seems I’ll have to find another way for you to repay me. Put on a good show tonight, will you?” She chuckled again, walking past Shrike and smacking his rear.

He recoiled instantly and shuddered. Looking over his shoulder, he saw one of the office drones smirking knowingly while pumping two of his fingers back and forth out of a hole he had made with his other hand. Another one, hoping to upstage his colleague, moaned and danced provocatively while leaning against the wall of his cubicle. With a quiet, uncomfortable gasp, Shrike shoved his thumb against the button with the downward arrow. The elevator door slid open shortly after with a blissful corporate ding, allowing him entry.

But even then, he couldn’t get a chance to be alone with his thoughts. An eyeball with a fleshy, elongated stalk hung from a corner of the metallic ceiling, blinking occasionally. It stared at him emotionlessly, quietly analyzing his every movement for signs of dissent. 

Blessed peeper, he cursed privately. At least it and its many nearly identical stalks couldn’t detect criminal thoughts yet. He folded his arms and looked away, trying futilely to shut out the peeper’s ceaseless stare and the disgustingly uplifting elevator muzak. 

-   -   -   -   -

Meanwhile, a top-of-the-line, bulletproof, and magick-warded white and gold limousine was parked outside in the pouring rain next to a group of boarded-up, graffiti-covered dilapidated buildings. A large, muscular cerulean-skinned demon with two large horns and a form-fitting white pinstripe suit was sitting at the back, sipping idly at some top-shelf whiskey from a glass and smoking a premium cigar with his eyes glazed on a modestly sized holographic screen before him, which played an episode of a popular ongoing drama on Netherflix. It was a tad bit overhyped, but it at least provided just the right amount of distraction he needed from the scene of urban decay outside his luxurious transport. Within a month later - a few weeks top - the rundown shops and apartments would be torn down to make room for a long overdue entertainment megaplex. The displaced hellions who used to make their living here would be more than welcome as its employees - provided they agree to everything on the contract they have to sign.

Suddenly, a series of banging noises came from the outside, causing him to jump a bit as he let out a startled yelp. At first, he wondered why his baby would do something so careless like that, but then he realized it wasn’t him at all. The interloper was of the same species and sex, but he was more disheveled, like he hadn’t taken good care of himself for weeks. The blue demon couldn’t make out exactly what he was mouthing, but if he had to guess, it would be him begging for alms. Sure, he got the fernies - in the billion, in fact - but why bother giving it to a lost cause when there were other things worth spending on?

He looked away from the transient imp and went back to his distractions, but the knockings outside only grew more frenetic the longer he ignored him. If he kept it up, he could end up making a huge dent or two in his expensive car. As the driver at the front looked to him for instructions, the cerulean-skinned demon promptly nodded at him. With one quick wave from his gloved right hand, the driver triggered a rune - invisible to all but the most magickally attuned - on the car door where the homeless imp was standing at. Bathed in a sudden burst of bright green aether, his corporeal form vanished, leaving behind a pile of unwashed clothes on the soaked sidewalk. A fellraven - one of the many critters that call the hi-tech sprawl of New Ch’thon its home - flew past the window near where the white-suited demon sat shortly after.

It will wear off eventually, he thought, dragging from his cigar and puffing contently. Another imp came into view just as he leaned back and crossed his legs, but this one - who had a piercings-adorned face and was dressed in rain-soaked office clothes - was just who he was expecting.

He rolled the window down slightly, just enough to converse with him while keeping most of the rainwater out.

“Let me guess,” he spoke, his voice deep and disarmingly melodic. “Higher-ups BS got you running late again?” 

“As usual, Daddy,” Shrike replied in between pants, wincing as he tried to hide his disgust. “I’m due for a presentation at 5 A.M tomorrow.”

“Awww, you poor lil’ thing,” the cerulean-skinned demon shook his head before pressing a switch on the door with one finger, which automatically opened for the imp. “Come in. Make yourself comfy.”

At a pace that was no doubt agonizingly slow for the two of them, Shrike crouched slightly as he entered the vehicle and sat down next to the larger demon, his arms folded across his chest in a feeble attempt to keep himself safe. It did little to reduce his anxiety when the limousine driver shut the door with another switch near him, started the car, and began driving towards their destination - all with cold, indifferent precision.

“You know...” the large demon wrapped his left arm around Shrike’s shoulders and pulled him closer, causing the imp to tense and hiss lightly. “Has anybody told you that you look downright sexy in wet office clothes?”

“How was I supposed to know it would rain all of the sudden?” Shrike retorted.

“’Course you don’t,” the other demon smirked, his rings-adorned fingers trailing down to the Harbinger’s chest to idly trace lines and circles of varying length and circumference on it as Shrike shuddered. “You know what’s about to go down tonight?”

The imp eyed him warily. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s my dear friend’s birthday party tonight, and I have the honor of hosting him and everybody else at my penthouse,” his other hand moved down toward Shrike’s right thigh, massaging it tenderly. “Should you happen to do a volcanic job, I will be more than happy to fling you a lil’ bonus.”

“As long as you get the say on what happens during the show?” 

The azure-hued demon smirked contently. 

“What a good little boy you are,” he gingerly grasped Shrike’s chin and turned his head towards him. “Let Daddy give you a nice, sloppy kiss.”

The large hellborn looked away briefly to take a lengthy, well-mastered drag from his cigar. As soon as he was ready, he locked lips with Shrike, moaning with delight as he transferred the smoke in his mouth to the smaller demon’s own. They pulled away a moment, the Harbinger looking at him with a mix of shame and want as he panted for air. Without any sign of hesitation, the blue demon put his cigar on an ashtray and pushed him down before getting on top of him. The imp had no other choice but to make out with him as his large hands eagerly went to work undoing his rain-soaked shirt.

A long day with an even longer night.

If only he could bring himself to stop caring completely...

And Finally The Worm Grinned

Shrike gasped loudly with widened eyes, his half-naked body springing up from the battered couch in the living room of his modest apartment. He panted shallowly, and he eventually realized that, much to his dismay, it was an unprecedented phone call that had disturbed him in his deep sleep. He leaned forward and stretched out a hand at his hellphone on the coffee table, cursing unintelligibly when he accidentally knocked over one of the numerous empty beer cans in the process. A heavy sigh of defeat left his lips as soon as he spotted the caller's name on the pale blue screen.

There is only one Fat Bastard in New Ch’thon who fits the moniker.

“What is it?” Shrike half-sleepily asked. 

[hansensgirl]

you better not shout, better not cry.

summary. | they know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.

pairings. | Dark!Sebastian Stan x Reader, Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader, Dark!Charles Blackwood x Reader, Dark!Chris Evans x Reader, Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader, Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader, Dark!Andy Barber x Reader.

warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, gang bang, eight-some, (forced and not forced) drinking, manipulation, coercion, dark themes, crimes, threatening, slight angst, mentions of cheating, age gaps, Daddy kink, Sir kink, power dynamics, boss/employee relationships, face fucking, oral (m receiving), dom/sub, finger sucking, degrading, praise, humiliation, voyeurism, fingering, double penetration, cum marking, facials, anal, unprotected sex, cream-pie kink, slapping, spanking, smoking, choking, hair pulling, manhandling, + more. 18+, DARK FIC.

word count. | 13k.

authors note. | merry christmas/happy holidays! please be wary of the warnings, and have yourself a merry christmas and/or a great day! don’t use my gif without permission, and don’t forget to read and reblog because i worked so hard on this. IF YOU’RE INSPIRED BY THIS FIC OR WANT TO USE A SIMILAR PLOT PLEASE MESSAGE ME FIRST OR ELSE YOU’LL BE BLOCKED. love you all sm! also gonna be submitting this to my bb @mypoisonedvine’s festive holiday challenge! (ty for beta-ing and putting up with me).

Make my wish come true… All I want for Christmas is you…

A group of women erupts in laughter as they point at one of the ugly sweaters that their coworker wears. The man burns up with shame before grumbling off, making you furrow your eyebrows. You stifle a laugh, before grabbing a sugar cookie that you baked yourself. Little red sprinkles fall to the floor as you bite into the treat, the sound drowned out by the others.

The melodious voice of Mariah Carey starts playing and everyone cheers; you included. You quickly shut up, though, realizing how stupid you must look. Standing there by yourself, an elf costume on, stuffing your face full of cookies as you yell.

You find comfort in the numerous Christmas-themed treats — from sugar cookies to Rice Krispies, to cake pops. Your mouth salivates at the sight even though you just had a cookie. Everything is so irresistible… “Merry Christmas Eve!” A cheery voice calls from behind you, and your heart quickens its pace.

“Oh- uh, Merry Christmas Eve to you too, Mr. Barnes.” You stammer in shock, careful to not look up at him. You fiddle your crumb-covered fingers together, a habit that you have yet to lose. “No need to be nervous, doll. Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks, grabbing one of the cookies that are covered in green sprinkles. It’s shaped like a Christmas tree, and it’s one of your favourites.

“Uh, yes, Sir!” You answer quickly and nervously. Undeniably, everyone knows that Mr. Barnes drips with eloquence and dominance. As soon as he walks into the room, everyone either wants to be with him or be him. Everyone vies after him, and he knows that. He knows that, and he just makes it worse and worse and- “Why’re you alone by the snack table, doll?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh well- I’m not overly friendly with the others- I mean I’m not rude to them! I’m just not close to them, that’s all.” You ramble nervously, wringing your hands. Bucky places a heavy hand on your shoulder and the butterflies in your start fluttering even harder and faster.

You struggle to look him in the eyes, those darned cerulean eyes that make you weak in the knees. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that… Have you been drinking, doll?” He asks you, and you choke on your saliva. “Oh I don’t drink, sorry if I’m being annoying…” You sheepishly apologize, realizing how out of line you must be acting. Truthfully, Mr. Barnes always has that effect on you.

“Uh- I should probably go see if everything is in order.” You say before Mr. Barnes can say anything else to you. “Happy Holidays!” You call out as you speed walk as far away your legs can take you. Three glasses of eggnog have you wobbling slightly but you’re determined to be far away from Mr. Barnes and the others.

In a way, they aren’t really your bosses. They’re just the CEOs and your boss is the head of the HR department. …Perhaps they are your bosses, but you’ve never really talked to them much. Mr. Bodecker’s temper always frightens you, Mr. Blackwood’s stare would always have you shaking, Mr. Barnes’s aura always makes you weak, and then there’s Mr. Stan himself. Everything about him sends numerous emotions through you and others as well.

You lean back against the wall and pull your phone out, sighing with a heavy heart. You’re not sure if it’s the heavy nostalgia of seeing Santa Claus sitting on a throne or the wallpaper on your screen but either one makes you tear up slightly. You already took photos of the party, and you’ve already sent well wishes to your friends, family and coworkers.

You look back up from your phone and try to decide whether or not you should scroll through your camera roll just to look busy to others. Whilst you ponder with your hazy mind, you accidentally lock eyes with Santa Claus. Younger you would’ve freaked out, but older you burns up with embarrassment. Suddenly, his white-gloved hand beckons you to him with a come-hither motion.

You point at yourself just to make sure because only you know how many mistakes you’ve made of thinking that someone was pointing at you. He nods and smiles, but you’re still not sure. Call it paranoia, call it anxiety, but there’s no way in hell that you’re going to make a fool of yourself on Christmas Eve.

You’re still unsure, so you look around and everyone else is off getting wasted in the main hall. Shiny confetti crunches under your flats as you hesitatingly walk over to Santa. He flashes you a smile and maybe it’s the egg nog talking but his pearly whites look awfully familiar to you. A waitress crosses your path, like a deer suddenly crossing the road. The platter that she holds gets slightly jilted but the shot glasses of tequila survive and her too.

You stop her and grab a couple of shots, taking them down the hatch with no shame at all. Liquid fire claims your throat as you have no remorse for your future self who’ll be hugging a toilet in the morning. You cough and sputter as you continue your way to Santa Claus. “Merry Christmas Eve, little girl!” He cheers delightfully.

You giggle drunkenly, the kind of laugh that would make anyone fall for you. “Oh, so no ‘Merry Christmas Eve’ for me? Seems like someone is asking for coal, or maybe even a spanking.” He drawls in a slight country-Santa accent. Perhaps your ears aren’t deceiving you, but there's no plausible way that Santa Claus just said… that.

“Oh— uh— Merry Christmas Eve!” You whoop, before bursting out in another fit of bubbly giggles. He laughs with you, but only for a few moments before taking in your appearance. Though you’re drunk on tequila, a few sips of wine from before the party and eggnog, he’s aiming to get drunk on your aura. Quiet yet sweet, a nervous mess that only furthers your adorable-ness and amazing desserts.

“See something you like, Mr. Claus?” You question him, snapping him out of his daze. You wiggle your eyebrows to your best ability, but you’re no actress. “Well, maybe I do, little girl.” He winks at you, and you swear that you’ve seen him before. “Wait- Do you work here? Or did we just hire you?” You ask him, as though you’re interviewing him.

“Can’t hire Santa Claus, little girl.” He disappointingly clicks his tongue. You let out an ‘oh’ before letting out a small laugh. He smiles at you and you bite your lipstick stained lip. Your coworkers are chanting in the background but you choose to artfully block them out. Maybe you’re not choosing, and it’s just the alcohol doing its wonders.

“I’m not little, why are you callin’ me little girl?” You slur your words as you question him again. “You are a little girl, and I can’t believe you’re back talking to Santa!” He scolds you, making your eyes water. You jut your bottom lip out in a pout and you’re doing the best puppy eyes that you can. “You been drinking a lot, huh little girl?” He asks you, turning the tables and you gladly let him.

“Yep! Gotta stay hydrated…” You tell him in a sing-song voice that makes him chuckle. “Silly little girl, getting all drunk in front of her coworkers…” He chides, grabbing your almost flailing arms. He pulls you up into his lap with a grunt, even though it doesn’t take much strength. You’re immediately reminded of the way he used to sit you in his lap.

Spinning you around in circles at first, loud giggles and begging for them to stop. Perhaps it’s fortunate that the alcohol renders your mind fuzzy and you can only make out a few colour blobs. “Whaddya’ want for Christmas, little girl?” He teasingly questions, smoothing a white-gloved hand over your hair. “Hmm, I can have anything?” You ask him, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of your mouth. He nods, taking his thumb and lifting it to your mouth.

Oh, how he has the urge to just push his thumb past your lips and make you choke on it. “Well… I want a raise, even though I’m not all that worthy of the company… Just like my ex said, I’m easily replaceable. Oh! Can I ask for another thing?” You perk up even though your throat burns with sadness and your eyes are almost leaking.

Interested, Lee nods and drags his thumb across your rouge top lip. If he didn’t have a wife who drags him to makeup stores on the regular, he would’ve thought your lipstick was expensive. But it isn’t, because there’s no way your paycheck can afford a lipstick from Hermes or Christian Louboutin. “Can I know why my boyfriend left me? I know I may seem dull and quiet, but I have more to myself…” You sadly ask him, ashamed of how he abandoned you for one of your closest friends.

Lee’s heart breaks in two — making him question whether or not he had a heart after all. Insults had him believing that he’s heartless, but you’re making him question every fibre of his being. “I’m sorry about that, little girl. But what we don’t know can’t hurt us, right? Curiosity killed the cat, little girl.” He reminds you, talking down to you as though you truly are a little girl. “But satisfaction brought it back.” You sass in return, your voice cracking from the impending tears and alcohol.

“You need to listen to me, little girl. Your boyfriend doesn’t know jackshit about treating a girl like you right. He probably doesn’t even know where your clit is.” He scoffs abruptly. You lean in, listening to him as though he’s the wisest man ever. “Bet he can’t fuck that tight lil’ pussy a’ yours as well as a real man like me can.” He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and heat to your core.

“Didn’t know Santa Claus had such a filthy mouth…” You tease him, running your hands up and down his thick thighs. He groans, his cock stiffening up inside his red trousers.

“But, before anything like that happens… I would really like to have a raise.” You say with a heavy-hearted sigh. Lee has the urge to grab you tightly and shove his big, hard cock into any wet hole of yours. “Alright, little girl. But you need to continue to be a good girl, or else I won’t be able to get you anything except for a spanking.” He warns with a faux-smile beneath his fake beard. You giggle and squeeze his thighs, almost like a wave goodbye.

You stumble off, probably to go pee or hurl your guts into a toilet. He watches as your hips sway with each step of yours. The sight fuels the thought of you grinding yourself on his cock as you beg him to fuck you. He notices the party has died down to just people humping each other to party songs. Grumbling, Lee pulls the awfully fake beard away from his handsome face. Before, he was cursing his luck for drawing the short stick to become Santa. But now, he’s glad.

He’ll talk to your boss about the raise, maybe along with a promotion. If only the others could mind their own businesses. Literally. He’s glad that he wore only a dress shirt and not the double-breasted suit Jane suggested for him. “You comin’ or what? We gotta’ make these deals before everyone leaves.” Bucky asks as he swiftly walks past Lee. Lee nods and starts to take off the rest of the obnoxious costume. Bucky puts no effort into stifling his chuckle, a known trait of his.

Bucky smooths his hair back, even though not one strand is out of place. His arm whirrs wildly and his fist clenches every few seconds. His stress symptoms were the worst, but they’ve never been this bad. It’s risky; the deal that they’re about to make. For months, they had been making secret bribes, forging numbers and signatures, and putting their employees in loopholes from their contracts. But this deal was the riskiest. Their plan was well thought out, all thanks to Charles, whose middle name might as well be devious.

He stands in front of one of the glass doors. His reflection looks back at him. Somehow, the dark look in his eyes becomes enhanced. His huge frame only makes him more intimidating, but he knows that no woman ever had a problem with it. Except for one. “You comin’?” Lee asks as he brushes past Bucky, mocking his words from earlier on. Bucky rolls his eyes like a spoiled rich kid because he is one.

Bucky buttons his suit jacket and exhales one last time. He walks to his right and pushes the door open with only a little bit of strength. Laughter from different men fills the room, along with thick tension and the smell of expensive booze. “Oh, look who decided to join us!” Ransom sarcastically jabs at Bucky. “Look who finally got laid. I was beginning to think you couldn’t get it up anymore, Drysdale.” Bucky sneers at him, pouring himself a glass of Dalmore 62.

Ransom grumbles a few curse words under his breath and a prideful smirk spreads across Bucky’s face. They all have their ties loosened, maybe even the top buttons of their shirts but nobody cares enough to look. All but Mr. Stan and Mr. Evans are relaxed. They stare at each other with such glares they could murder one another. They all sit in their chairs, all similar. Except for Mr. Stan, who seems as though he’s sitting on a throne.

“They havin’ a starin’ contest or what?” Lee questions Bucky, downing the rest of the whiskey. “I don’t know, but didn’t they hate each other over some family feud shit?” Bucky asks in return, handing Lee the bottle of highland malt scotch. “Like the game?” Lee jokingly asks, knowing that the two head owners of the companies loved to get into petty squabbles. “We all fucking wish.” Bucky jeers, eliciting a chuckle from Lee. As much as they all hate each other, they always did have their moments when they weren’t insulting each other.

The only one who isn’t drinking, Andy, pipes up from all the talking. “So are we going to make this deal or not? I gotta get home for Christmas.” He grumbles just like the old man he is. “Oh fuck you, Barber. Just because you went to Harvard doesn’t mean you’re some busy guy.” Steve jabs, clenching his jaw in annoyance. He always hated Andy, and he proudly showed it.

Charles snickers, Ransom too. Lee and Bucky smirk from the sidelines. Andy clicks his tongue in a threatening way. But Sebastian and Chris send daggers in the form of glares at them. “I suppose we could sign the contracts and then celebrate… I could call the girls from Eighteen30’s.” Sebastian proposes, standing up from his seat. He emerges from the darkness like Batman, his beautiful eyes gleaming in the light. Everyone in the room groans in pleasure, recalling the moments they remembered from the last time they went to Eighteen30’s.

Andy pulls the contract out of his briefcase; an obvious “Andy” move. The sounds of glasses being set down on surfaces fill the room at different pitches. Evans simply turns around, stroking his beard as if he wants to say something. “Got something to say, Evans?” Charles asks him, giving him a devilish smile. “No, just thinking about how I’m gonna be rich as fuck once the ink dries.” He says in almost a hopeful manner. He thinks he has everyone deceived, but it’s the total opposite.

They all choose to keep quiet, wanting to just sign the goddamn papers and get it over with. “Just to be sure… We all know what this entails, right? More money, more power.” Sebastian states, pouring himself a glass of whisky. He never minds the burn, he actually loves it. They all nod, because who doesn’t love money and power? They all pull a pen out of their jackets, ever the businessmen. One by one, in smooth black loops, they sign their full names on the contracts.

Sebastian and Chris are the last to sign because their names carry the most weight. Charles lights his pipes and sighs as he takes a drag of smoke from it. As Lee watches Charles puff the smoke out of his mouth, he has the urge to light up a cigarette. But he can’t, because his doctor told him not to. So now he has to suffer the pain of fighting away that urge and Charles all but taunts him. He watches, and he fights, and he watches until he snaps.

“‘Scuse me.” He says, getting up. “Are you going for the champagne?” Sebastian asks, tracing the rim of his glass. Lee nods, lying to his business partner and longtime friend. “I’ll come with, can’t fucking stand the darkness.” He grumbles, following Lee. They both appreciate the fact that the part is still lively, maybe even more as booze has taken over everyone’s body. “Hey man, sorry you had to be Santa this year.” Sebastian apologizes, clearing his throat beforehand.

It’s not unexpected. Lee already knows that Sebastian is comfortable with him. “Ah, it’s alright. Only had to talk to a couple ‘a horny girls and Mrs. Patterson’s son. That lil’ fucker is cute an’ all, but he fuckin’ drooled on my hand.” Lee rants to him, making him let out a chuckle. “Well, the girls weren’t all that bad, right?” Sebastian questions him, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “They were… somethin’. Most of them were obnoxious, except for one of ‘em.” Lee admits to him.

“Oh really? Anyone I might know?” Sebastian continues, handing Lee a cigarette. Lee gruffly thanks him and hands him his Valentino lighter. “Hmm… not sure. I don’t think anyone really knows her, she seems quiet. But she was drunk, so that was nice.” Lee tells him, sparing certain details. “She wanted a raise, and to know why her boyfriend left her for some other girl. I think it was her friend. Either way, she nearly started cryin’ on my lap.” Lee recounts to him, something he’d only do with his therapist.

Besides fucking her, of course.

“Oh… maybe we could give her a raise. Do you see her here?” Sebastian asks him with a smirk on his face. Lee wonders if Sebastian is thinking of the same thing that he is, and vice versa. Lee’s blown out eyes scan the crowd for you, hoping you’re still here. Maybe perhaps even more drunk than before. “She’s in this burgundy dress and had a mini Santa hat on… Red lipstick too.” Lee describes to him. Sebastian nods his head and keeps on looking for you.

“Think she had lingerie on underneath the dress… probably wanted to get back with her boyfriend.” Lee begrudgingly admits to Sebastian, finishing his cigarette. Smoke flies from both of them yet nobody seems to care. “How do you know she had lingerie on?” Sebastian teasingly asks him. Lee’s face burns up with slight embarrassment. “I… I was feeling her up, I couldn't help myself. She was all over me in the cutest way possible.” Even though Lee doesn’t give a rat’s ass about God, he’d swear on her that he’s telling the truth.

“Is that her?” Sebastian asks him, pointing at you as you walk out of the women’s bathroom. “Yeah…” Lee puts out his cigarette and throws it beside him, leaving it for the janitor to pick up. Sebastian does the same, aiming his cigarette more accurately. “Fuck, that little doll? I’ve always had my sights set on her. Always so cute and shy… Never bothered anyone.” Sebastian groans, hoping— no, knowing that Lee and the others are on the same boat as he.

“I have an idea,” Lee says, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sebastian follows him, going along with whatever his idea is. From your spot at the snack table, you manage to fill your now empty stomach with your sugar cookies. You’re slightly disappointed that not many of your treats have disappeared, but you tell yourself the night is still young. You look up at the sound of footsteps coming closer and nearly choke on a cookie.

“Oh my— uh, Merry Christmas Eve, Mr. Stan and Mr. Bodecker!” You cheer, stumbling on your words and yourself. “Hi, darlin’,” Lee says, giving you his signature ‘ladies only’ smile. You feel yourself become shy at the sight, but Mr. Stan makes you look back up. He clears his voice and you take in both of them. They both stand tall and intimidating, with enchanting stares that just capture you. “Merry Christmas Eve to you too, little girl,” Sebastian says, taking in your form.

You look absolutely adorable and innocent in front of them. In your little burgundy dress and Santa hat… slightly tipsy with cookie crumbs all over your face. “We came over here to ask you for a quick favour… We just closed one of our biggest deals and we’d love for you to help us bring the champagne. Maybe make a toast with us? It’s the least we can do since you brought all these lovely treats.” Lee explains, grabbing himself a sugar cookie.

It’s identical to the one you have in your hand; except yours is half-eaten and his only has a small nibble. “M- Me? Really?” You ask in shock, nearly going into full cardiac arrest. They probably don’t even know your name, but that doesn’t matter. At least they’re talking to you. “Yep! Unless someone else made all these delicious desserts.” Sebastian jokes around, slightly admitting that he tried a cookie. You shake your head in object and lace your sweaty fingers together.

God, why did you have to drink?

“I’d love to, Sirs.” You whisper with the utmost grace you can muster up whilst being half-drunk. They both nod and Lee places a heavy arm around your shoulders. The cookie in your hand breaks and you not so discreetly drop all the crumbs onto the floor. “Can I ask what the deal is for?” You question, not even daring to look up from the floor. “Oh, it’s nothing to worry your cute little brain about,” Sebastian tells you with a smile, quickly shutting you up and shutting the topic down.

They lead you to the bar and Sebastian makes a simple gesture with his hand. The bartender makes quick work of getting five champagne bottles and you’re easily amazed. Without realizing it, your jaw drops slightly in awe. Both Sebastian and Lee chuckle at how cute you are. The sounds are absolute heaven and they force you to realize something.

Holy-fucking-shit— You have feelings for your bosses.

You choke on your saliva at the epiphany, making Sebastian and Lee jump to you in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” Sebastian asks you, rubbing your back gently. Lee does this same, but his hand inches down to the small of your back. With anyone, you would jerk away and feel very uncomfortable. But with them… With them, it’s the complete opposite. You nod as you slowly calm down. The bartender sets the numerous bottles of champagne down on the bar.

Two bottles of Dom Pérignon, two bottles of Boërl & Kroff Magnum and one bottle of Goût de Diamant Brut. It’s the most expensive champagne in the world, costing $1.2 million. But to them and the company, it’s no big deal. You only know the price because he would rave about it on and on. You sniffle at the memory and Lee shushes you in a calming matter.

“Here, you lift this one, and we’ll carry the rest,” Lee instructs, handing you one of the bottles of Dom Pérignon. You hold onto the bottle tightly, but not too tightly. Sebastian and Lee point to where they’re going to celebrate, just to direct you. You walk in small steps, careful to not drop the bottle. They’d probably murder you if you did. “Right there, little girl… I— uh, I heard you wanted a raise, is that true?” Lee asks you, desperate to hear your lovely voice.

“Uh yeah, I just haven’t had a raise since I’ve been working here. All my coworkers are constantly getting raises…” You sheepishly admit to your two bosses. They nod and frown, how long has that been going on? They’ve kept their eyes on you since you started working here. You reach the door and you don’t open it because your two hands are occupied. Lee oddly knocks on the door, perhaps in a code. A few seconds pass, but the alcohol in your system makes it feel like an eternity.

Mr. Barnes opens up the door and gasps at you. “Nice to see you again, little girl.” He greets, smirking down at you. The sober version of you would’ve noticed the plethora of men in the room, but drunk-you can’t focus on too much at once. You nod shakily, swallowing thickly as you remember your encounter with Bucky earlier this evening. Bucky takes the champagne bottle from you and leads you inside, Sebastian and Lee following.

Bucky briefly leaves the room after setting down the bottle of champagne on one of the tables. It’s incredibly dark in the room and you can only make out the lights coming from the city. Sebastian flicks the lights on and you bite back a hiss at the sudden change. You look around and nearly drop dead right there and then. The company’s biggest enemies are here, smug as ever. “I… Huh?” You’re confused, not sure if your mind is playing a wicked trick on you.

Mr. Blackwood takes a drag from his pipe and then puts it out, the only remnants of it being the scent of smoke. In front of you, though, are Mr. Drysdale, Mr. Barber, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Evans. “Is this the little minx you’ve been telling us about?” Steve asks your bosses, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Yep, even better in person,” Bucky says, pushing your hair to the side. “What’s going on?” You ask, trying to move away from him. Lee quickly stops you, his pudgy stomach pushing you closer to Bucky.

“Like I said before, little girl. Nothin’ for you to worry your little brain about.” Lee says, his country drawl sending shivers throughout your body. Little girl… The nickname is all too familiar, and it’s not like anyone else with a country accent would call you that. “You were Santa Claus?” You ask him, slightly nudging him. “She’s smart… Can’t fucking wait to make her go all stupid for our cocks.” Ransom says, a smug half-grin on his face.

You whimper at his words because they’re straight out of your greatest fantasies.

“Oh you like that, don’t you? You really wanna be dumb and stupid for our cocks?” Bucky asks in a condescending tone. You shake your head no because all you want is to get out of here. “Let’s get the real party started…” Chris ominously says, grabbing a bottle of Dom Pérignon. He pops it open, the wooden cork flying to the other side of the room.

Foam pours out of the bottle and everyone cheers, minus yourself. Instead, you flinch and still try to move from their grasps. Andy hands him the glasses and he pours everyone half a glass. You, on the other hand, receive a full glass with a strawberry inside. “I- I think I had enough to drink tonight…” You shyly tell them, inching your body away from Andy. “Nonsense, celebrate with us, little girl.” He objects, beginning to tilt the glass forward.

You shake your head and twist your face away, but Bucky’s metal hand stops you. He roughly grabs your jaw and squeezes until your mouth pops open. Champagne fills your mouth and you refuse to swallow. Lee’s fingers dance across your cheek and clamp over your nose, cutting off your only source of oxygen. “C’mon, swallow it all. Do it like the good little girl you are.” Charles demands, the praise going straight to the pit of your stomach.

You cave because there’s no way you’re winning this. Against your will, you swallow the bubbly golden liquid. Slight carbonation sizzles on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You have to admit, it is absolutely delightful. You now see why rich people drink it like it’s water. “That’s a good girl. See? Wasn’t so bad after all.” Andy praises you, tapping your cheek as though you’re a pet.

You whimper again, feeling Lee and Bucky grab your arms tightly. “As much as I love that cute little dress, I’d prefer to see you out of it,” Ransom smirks, handing Andy another glass of champagne. This time, it’s a glass of Boërl & Kroger Magnum. It’s stronger, much stronger than the previous one. Ransom’s hands come to the front of your favourite dress and a loud rip reverberates throughout the room.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the room fills with whistles and groans. “Fuckin’ hell, little girl.” Lee groans, his cock swelling up once again. Suddenly, everyone’s trousers are a few sizes too small. They drink in your lingerie-clad form and you grow even shyer underneath their strong gazes. “I don’t know if I wanna fuck you in this little get-up, or rip it off and then fuck you.” Steve groans, palming himself through his dress pants.

You don’t realize until now that they’ve all surrounded you. Andy tilts the glass into your slack jaw and you allow the bubbly beverage to fill your mouth. Why fight it? Plus, there’s no way you can get wasted off of champagne. You can feel a bit of champagne dribble down your chin and towards your cleavage. It has you feeling even more embarrassed and ashamed than you already are.

The sight fuels everyone in the room. “Fuck it,” Steve says, grabbing the glass from Andy. He throws it behind him, a crash reverberating in the room. You flinch at the sound and Ransom cooes condescendingly. “Are you scared, little girl?” Ransom asks you, tilting your chin up to his face. His blue eyes are blown out with lust and darkness. He smashes his lips against yours and you’re not sure whether to kiss him back or not.

A harsh hand squeezing your ass warns you to mimic his movements. The kiss is rough and filled with need. You try to keep up with kiss lips, so focused on doing it correctly. You don’t even realize that you’re being moved to one of the couches and that everyone has been stripped from their suits. The only article of clothing on the men is their boxers. Ransom shoves his tongue into your mouth and you let him dominate you. Sets of hands begin to feel up your body — groping, squeezing, rubbing.

You feel someone else’s lips on your neck, lightly peppering kisses near that sweet spot of yours. As soon as Charles hits it, you melt in all of their hands. “That’s a good girl, yeah.” Chris praises, cupping one of your tits through your bra. The strings on your lingerie are tearing away, the sound echoing in your ears. Your bra and underwear remain, with tethers of red string on them. Sebastian’s hands run up and down your waist, making goosebumps form.

You aren’t sure what Lee, Andy and Steve are doing, but you know their hands are on you somewhere. Then, Ransom pulls away. Your lips are swollen and they even hurt a bit, too. You can feel wetness pooling in your red panties, but you’re too drunk to care about your sudden neediness. You’re worried about what’s going to happen. Lee lifts you and places you on the expensive shag carpet.

You whimper in pain as the carpet digs into your skin remorselessly. “Sorry, baby. It’ll be worth it, don’t worry.” Lee gently tells you, rubbing your cheek. Suddenly, he strikes you harshly. You let out a shriek of pain and fear, but you’re quickly shushed. “Shh, I know you like that, look -- You’re rubbing your thighs together like a lil’ slut.” He jeers, stroking the other cheek. You whimper and shake your head, even though he’s correct.

“Lying isn’t very nice, little girl,” Steve warns, standing next to Lee. You look up at them both, tears welling in your beautiful eyes. The sight makes them even harder than they already are, to the point where it’s almost unbearable. Lee pulls his boxers down and so does Steve. You gasp and your jaw nearly drops. Their cocks bunce up and slap their lower abdomens. Pre-cum leaks from their swollen, red tips. They’re both roughly the same size, but Lee is thicker than Steve.

“You like what you see, little girl?” Steve asks, grabbing the base of his cock. It looks even bigger in his large hands, and you gulp in fear. You’re not sure why you’re nodding, but you can’t stop yourself. Lee gives his cock a few strokes, and Steve grabs a handful of your hair. You whimper loudly as he drags you closer to his cock. “Say ‘ahh’.” Steve teases, before shoving his cock into your mouth.

You’ve done this before, but never with someone of his length and girth. Your mouth and jaw immediately start to hurt at the stretch. His cock is only halfway into your mouth, but it’s quite possibly one of the worst feelings ever. Steve tugs at your hair again, and you take it as a sign to start sucking. You hollow your cheeks and begin to bob your head, your tongue laving at the bottom of his cock.

You can feel the different veins on his cock throb, pulsating underneath the wetness of your tongue. He groans above you and the others in the room whistle at you. You’re not sure where to look, so your eyes dart around. You end up locking eyes with the man above you and your squeak around his cock. The vibrations of your voice have him cursing like a sailor. “Fuckin’ hell, little girl. So good at sucking cock.” He praises, petting the top of your head.

You involuntarily hum at the praise, squeezing your thighs together. Suddenly, you’re pulled off of Steve’s cock. You gasp for air, not even realizing how you were barely breathing whilst sucking his cock. Your chest heaves and your heart clamours as Lee drags you closer to him. He slaps the fat tip of his cock on your thrumming cheek. You flinch, feeling sticky pre-cum stain your face. Lee shoves his cock in your mouth the same way Steve did, only this time he forces you all the way down.

Your nose meets his fuzzy, soft tummy. You gag and sputter around his cock, trying to control your very much needed breathing. Lee places both his hands on each side of your head. Somehow, he’s still a bit gentle with you, even though he’s forcing you to suck his cock. He slowly moves your head up and down, moaning softly at the feeling of your wet mouth. Saliva coats his coat with a sticky sheen that only helps you make him feel good and nothing more.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans loudly, tossing his head back. You swallow around his cock, your threat constricting around him for a brief moment. You can feel his heavy balls against your chin for a few moments every now and then. All of a sudden, you’re once again pulled away from his cock. Steve forces himself farther into your mouth, just like Lee.

You feel light-headed from the little bit of air you’re getting. But you know that’s not their priority. Gags fill the room and your eyes roll back into your head. You aren’t pulled off of his cock, yet. “Fuck, I’m pretty sure she’s enjoying this as much as you are, Steve,” Bucky says, only just realizing that you’re trying to alleviate the ache between your legs. Everyone’s eyes fall to your cunt, where you’re rubbing your thighs together and humping the hair like a little bunny.

“Bet she probably doesn’t even realize it…” Ransom smirks, feeling his cock throb. You can only hear some of their words. You don’t know what they’re talking about, but it can’t be good. Steve begins to thrust his cock into your mouth, moving his hips back and forth. His balls slap your chin, his cock stretches your mouth and his moans are the only thing your ears can hear. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He announces, and you shake your head in objection.

You place your hands on his thighs and push him as much as you can. Your efforts are wasted because he doesn’t budge at all. You decide to resort to hitting, but it still doesn’t do anything. Steve suddenly still and his cum shoots down your throat. White stickiness fills your mouth up and you whine loudly. Steve paints your mouth with white streaks and he sighs loudly. He doesn’t pull out even after he’s already come, and you’re confused.

“C’mon, swallow it all like the good little slut you are.” He husks, his voice a bit hoarse. He shoves his cock more into your throat and you have no choice but to swallow it all. As soon as you do, Lee pulls you away from Steve. “Fuckin’ piece of shit.” He grumbles loud enough for only you to hear. He gives a nod to someone and then grabs a hold of your head again. “Shh it’s okay, you can do it. I know you can, you’re a good girl.” He eases, slowly pushing his cock into your wet cavern.

Unlike Steve, Lee is a bit gentler. Maybe it’s because his heart is slightly bigger than his dick. His cock hits your gag reflex and you’re so fucking lucky that you aren’t having any… accidents. Steve’s cum is still lingering in your mouth — musky, a little salty, and sticky. The droplets that are on the side of your mouth roll down Lee’s cock, leaving slight wetness on him that isn’t saliva. As soon as your nose nuzzles against his stomach, he groans.

He keeps your head locked in place for some reason, you’re not exactly sure why. Maybe he’s giving you some time to get used to his thickness. You hum in delight, a way of showing that you’re thankful that he’s sparing you some humanity. He chuckles, stroking one of your cock-filled cheeks. Cold fingers crawl between your thigh and you jump in fear. Your body doesn’t fully jerk away because of Lee’s strength. You can see Bucky smirking from your peripheral view and he rubs your wet cunt through the panties.

You shake your head and try to kick him away, but he stops you from protesting. Bucky spanks your ass harshly, watching as the skin ripples from the force. “Uh uh, stop that. Don’t make me put you over my knee and spank you ‘till you’re bleeding.” He threatens, placing one of his knees on your leg. You try to wiggly away from him, but your attempts are fruitless. You accept defeat, but only for now.

His metal hand returns to your cunt and he grabs the crotch of your soaking wet underwear. Bucky pulls it away from your cunt and you can still see his grin as smug as ever. You look up at Lee and your eyes plead for him to stop it all, but he just rubs your bulging throat. He moans at the slight pleasure and you gulp in fear. His thumb rubs at your cheek whilst Bucky rips your underwear away from your pussy.

Sebastian, Chris, Ransom, Andy, Charles, and Steve watch the sight before them with their hands palming their hard cocks. “She’s so fucking wet, aren’t you, little girl? Bet you got this wet just from sucking their cocks, ‘cause you love it so much. You love being a little slut for us.” He sneers, lightly smacking your cunt. You whimper around Lee’s cock and he grows tired of holding back.

He drags his hips back slightly and moves your head away from his cock, before pushing you back down rather quickly and harshly. You feel Bucky’s fingers trace at your drooling hole, occasionally dipping the tip of one of his fingers inside. He traces your wet lips and your sensitive clit too. You twitch at the sudden stimulation. Lee guides you up and down his cock at a rather decent pace. Your gags, wet noises and Lee’s moans fill the room in a rather melodious manner.

Bucky pushes one finger into your tight cunt, groaning at how your pussy immediately hugs his digit. “God, you’re so fucking tight. This cunt just needs to be destroyed, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, we’re gonna ruin it for any other man.” Bucky chuckles, pushing his digit further into you. He feels around, searching that spot that you haven’t found yet.

“You look so pretty with your mouth stuffed full of my cock, little girl. So fuckin’ pretty, ‘s like it was made just for me.” Lee cooes at you, thrusting even harder into your mouth. Tears sting your eyes but you ignore them. Bucky let’s put a noise of satisfaction and pride as you clench around his fingers. “There it is… Do you like it when I touch you like that, baby? Yeah, I know you do. Fuckin’ love it.” He husks in your ear, before nibbling on your earlobe.

You squeeze your eyes shut once Bucky starts moving his fingers inside you. Lee fucks your face with sloppy movements, signalling his impending orgasm. You place your hands on his thick, squishy thighs. Your short nails dig into his soft skin slightly as Bucky assaults your g-spot with his metal fingers. Lee pulls out your hair, a delicious sting radiating from your head. The pain makes you sputter once again around his cock, and that’s when Lee loses himself.

Just like Steve, he shoves his cock further down your throat as he hits his orgasm. His hot cum shoots down your throat, some of it filling your mouth up along with his cock. His hips are stilled but his cock is twitching almost wildly in your mouth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue and you’re more ashamed than ever. Hopefully, it’s all over now. You shut your eyes close, unable to look Lee in his eyes.

He gives your cheek a light slap, and this time you don’t shriek or flinch. You swallow obediently around his cock, losing all defiance just so that it can all be over. You cringe at the feeling of his cum sliding down your throat, which is a fleeting moment. Bucky’s other hand reaches down to play with your little pearl of nerves. Suddenly, you’re gushing around his single-digit as it thrusts in and out of your pussy. “You look so pretty when you come, little girl. Such a sight.” Bucky whispers in your ear, kissing your neck.

“Aw, you love this, don’t you?” Lee asks, watching as you struggle to keep yourself together. You shake your head, even though the man above you doesn’t allow you to move. “Yeah, you do. You love sucking your seniors’ cocks and having your bosses watch. That’s why you’re all wet, right? Soaking Bucky’s fingers an’ coming all around them.” Lee presses, pulling his cock out. Somehow, he’s still as hard as ever. Steve too.

You open your mouth up to scream for help, but Ransom quickly stops you. His hand wraps around your neck and squeezes, cutting you off. Your scream for help dies down in your throat and so has all the fight in your body. Bucky continues to fuck you with his finger and his hand doesn’t leave your clit either. His movements are quicker, much quicker. Ransom leans his face close to yours, a dangerous scowl staining his.

“Do you want us to be rough, hm? We can fucking ruin you, and your holes. Are you that fucking stupid to try and scream? Who’s gonna help you anyway? Especially if they walk in to see you bouncing up and down on our cocks, begging for our cum.” He spits, squeezing your throat even tighter. “I— I’m sorry.” You apologize, scared of the man in front of you and the others who surround you.

You can feel yourself slowly losing consciousness, slowly but surely. Tears sting your eyes and begin to leak down your cheeks, maybe Ransom chuckle. You can feel his pinky ring dig into the skin of your neck, just like how you can feel Bucky’s fingers push against your sweet spot. “Do you wanna breathe, or do you wanna cum like a good girl?” He asks lowly, staring right into your eyes. You’re not sure what the right answer is, but you can barely think.

From the loss of oxygen to the way Bucky's fingers and slowing down and denying your pleasure. You feel Ransom’s fingers loosen a bit, almost as if he’s giving you a hint. You’re sure he knows you can’t think straight, and he’s probably going to tease you for it. “I… I wanna cum like-- like a good girl…” You breathlessly admit, feeling your eyes flutter shut. “Please…” You beg, more tears leaking from your glassy eyes.

Ransom lets go of your neck but he doesn’t let you fall. Bucky’s ministrations on your pussy speed up, bringing you closer to the edge. White fire burns in your stomach and cunt as you can feel yourself about to cum. “Please, please, please, Sir…” You unconsciously beg, before starting to sob. “Awe… Look at you, so desperate. Hm? You don’t even care if you were gonna pass out, you just want to come.” Ransoms jabs at you, grabbing your face roughly.

You can see that he’s taken off his boxers, his hard cock hanging between his built thighs. “Do it, come right fucking now.” He demands, before hollowing his cheeks out. You can’t see what he’s doing through your bleary eyesight, but you have a feeling that it isn’t good for you. You let out a gasp as Ransom spit on your face, his sticky salvia painting your left cheek.

It drips down to your open mouth in the worst way possible. You let it roll into your mouth because you can’t stop it. “Oh my God, yes…” You pant desperately as you hit your climax. You cum all over Bucky’s fingers, your cunt spasming. You moan loudly, just like the slut they claim you are. Bucky rubs your clit and continues to finger you until you can barely keep yourself up. “So sensitive… God, I’m gonna have so much fun with this pussy.” Bucky groans, slowing down his movements.

You barely have any time to collect yourself from your heaven-sent orgasm. You’re being lifted and placed on someone else. You rub your eyes and turn around, just to see Andy smirking up at you. His kind-seeming eyes, but his smile tells a different story. You turn back around, just to see your bosses and their deviant partners surrounding you. Charles steps forward with his signet ring-decorated hand wrapped around his cock.

He stares you down as he spits in his hands and brings it to his cock. He strokes himself slowly, the salvia making lewd squelching sounds. Andy’s hands crawl up your ass to your soft thighs. He grabs your skin and spreads your legs as wide as he deems best. His thighs rest under yours as Charles kneels down in front of you. “Such a pretty little pussy, Bambina.” He softly tells you, as though he’s your lover.

It seems that you’re looking at him, it truly does. But in reality, you’ve zoned out to a land far, far away from where there were no monsters like these men. Only princes and heroes like him. “Look at her, she looks so fucked out.” Steve comments, pointing at you. Charles hums, before snapping his fingers. Your trip is cut short, and you’re back to reality. Charles grabs the base of his cock and slaps the head of it on your sensitive clit, making you twitch.

Andy runs two of his fingers across your face; his pointer and his middle finger. He moves down to your slightly parted lips and pushes them inside. Charles smears his pre-cum against your wet lips, mixing the stickiness with your cum. You whimper at the feeling and focus on that only. “C’mon, suck on my fingers like it’s my cock, little girl.” Andy urges, pressing your tongue with his fingers.

You hesitatingly comply, trying to please him. The more you listen, the quicker it’ll all be over, right? “You’re just a good little slut, aren’t you? So good, the best little girl ever.” Charles praises, running the head of his cock through your folds. If this was all… okay, then you would agree with him and serve your duties as a good girl. But it isn’t okay, so you leave it at that. Charles pulls his now soaking wet cock away from your pussy, and you feel him push in.

But it isn’t him. It’s Andy’s cock. He slowly pushes into you, stretching you until it hurts like nothing before. He bottoms out with a loud moan that nearly makes your right ear hurt. He doesn’t begin to fuck you brutally, as any man would. No, he stays buried in your wet cunt and Charles seizes the moment. His wet cock head nudges against your other hole, the one that was forbidden to your boyfriend — ex-boyfriend.

You flinch and try to close your legs, but Andy stops you as quickly as possible. “Please…” You beg, using your eyes to tell him “No, I don’t want this. Please stop.” He shushes you and pushes the head of his cock in slightly. You’re gratefully he doesn’t just get on with it and brutalizes you. Andy pulls out of your wet cunt and you’re immensely confused.

To be honest, though, you always are.

Charles pushes into your cunt and fills you up like Andy. He immediately finds your sweet spot just like Bucky did. Andy grabs his cock and leads it to your tighter hole, before slowly pushing in. He groans loudly at how tight you are, how much you’re squeezing him like a vice. “No, stop it, please.” You beg, trying to get up from your spot on his chest.

He pulls you back down and Charles wraps his hand around your throat. “Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth before I get one of them to stuff it full with their cock.” He threatens. His face is calm in the most frightening way possible. Andy curses behind you as he finally bottoms out inside your ass. The pain makes you want to scream, but after your previous antics, you choose to just bite your lip and keep quiet.

Your short, red nails dig into your palms and draw blood, but it doesn’t hurt that badly. They both nod at each other but you don’t notice it at all, too focused on the excruciating pain you’re feeling. You might say that you’re about to pass out, but you can’t even form anything more than “please,” and moans of pain. Charles’s rough thumb rests upon your throbbing clit, ready to bring you to your orgasm.

But God, you’re squeezing his cock so tightly with your pussy it takes him a few moments to collect himself. “You’re squeezing our cocks so nicely, little baby. You just don’t wanna let us go.” Andy chuckles, wiggling his hips for some friction. You let out a loud moan — and you’re not sure if it’s of pain or pleasure.

Charles slowly drags his cock out of your cunt, leaving just the tip inside you. The feeling of sudden emptiness reminds you of when you stand up too quickly after laying down for a while. Mind-altering, if you must say. He slams back inside you and Andy does the opposite; pulling out of you. Charles fuck you slow, yet hard and rough. He rubs your clot quickly as he fucks you relentlessly.

Groans, whistles, curse words and moans all fill the room yet you only focus on the way their cocks are driving in and out of you. “Fuck, such a nice ass. You love having Daddy’s cock in your ass, don’t you?” Andy asks, looking straight down to where you’re connected. You swallow thickly and Charles feels it against his hand. He squeezes the sides of your throat slightly, and you nod quickly.

“Say it. Say you love having my cock fuck your little ass. I bet nobody ever fucked you like this, not even that lousy boyfriend of yours. You probably wished he took you like the little slut you are, destroying all your holes.” He demands as his dirty words make you wetter and wetter. “I…” You pant helplessly, looking around.

Everyone stares you down, their cocks in their hands as they slowly jerk off to you. “I l-love having your c-cock fuck my a-ass, Daddy.” You sheepishly tell him, whispering that last part. “Brava, Bambina.” Charles praises, punctuating his words with one thrust that hits your cervix. You let out a cry and the lewd sounds of them fucking you are drowned out for a brief second.

Charles continues to pummel your g-spot, and occasionally, your cervix. The pain isn’t as bad as the pain Andy is causing you. You can feel Andy’s cock pulsating in you, driving in and out of you. You’re sure you’re probably bleeding, but you know that none of these men care. “Fuck, she’s so stretched out…” Someone says, loud enough so you can hear.

You feel yourself being pushed to the edge at a rather fast pace. “You gonna come, baby? You gotta ask us first.” Charles snickers, slowing down his thrusts and taking away his thumb from your clit. You whine out like a bitch in heat, desperate to come all over their cocks. “Please…” You beg, gyrating your hips so that Charles can continue to fuck you like a starved man.

“Gotta do better than that, Tesoro Mio.” He hums, pulling out even more. He watches in awe as your wetness coats his cock like nothing before. In the bright lights, his cock glistens with your juices. “Please, please let me come! I need it, I want to come so badly, Sir!” You beg, bucking your hips upwards. “That’s a good little slut.” He praises, pushing back into your cunt. You moan loudly and wantonly once he bottoms out again.

The pain in your ass finally turns into pleasure and you moan even louder. “Oh my god!” You squeal despite your throat hurting. You grind down on their cocks slightly, chasing your orgasm. “Please let me come. Please, Sir… Please, Daddy!” You beg involuntarily, taking a page out of your wildest fantasies. Your words spur them on and you’re suddenly crashing into a lovely climax. You moan loudly and clamp down on their cocks as much as your body lets you.

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful when you come around our cocks. You love being fucked by two men, don’t you? Yeah, yeah you do. That’s why you’re being so needy and desperate.” Andy groans in your ear, feeling his balls tighten up as you milk him and Charles for all they’re worth. You nod in agreement, not even caring anymore,

You soak their cocks with your cum, and your eyes roll back into your skull. “Awe, look at her. She goin’ all stupid.” Lee teases, squeezing the base of his cock to stave off his release. Your heart clamours in your chest, beating wildly as you struggle to come down from your high. Your mind has a slight buzz to it, and the champagne is the one to blame. You can hear soft moans from the other men, and you fight back a shy smile of pride.

Charles and Andy both have beads of sweat dripping down their skin, enhancing your arousal. They both curse under their breaths and groan. Andy’s hips still first, and his cock twitches inside you. “Oh fuck…” He groans in a low voice. Streaks of cum paint your insides, filling you up in a pleasant way possible. You sigh at the feeling and look up at Charles. He squeezes your throat a bit tighter, which only makes you wetter.

His thrusts are slow and sloppy, signalling his orgasm. “Please come in me… Please, Sir.” You whisper to him, knowing he needs something to push him over the edge. “Fill me up with your cum, Sir.” You add, remembering certain lines from porn videos you used to watch. “Oh— fuck…” He groans as he comes inside you. You can feel his cum, filling you up to the brim and then some. Andy pulls out, his cock lightly brushing against Charles’s thigh.

You watch Charles as he slowly comes down from euphoria. You feel empty, so empty. Bucky watches with hungry eyes as cum and a tinge of blood leaks out of your asshole. It’s slightly stretched, which only turns him on even more. Charles drags his cock out of your pussy, slowly and carefully just so that he won’t hurt you.

Again, if the circumstances weren’t so… fucked up, you would’ve enjoyed this all.

You sigh and flop backwards onto Andy’s chest, ready for sleep to take you. You feel your eyes flutter shut, but then you’re jerked back to reality. Your eyes open up just for you to come face to face with Bucky, who smiles deviously at you. “I know you’re tired, baby, but we’re not done with you yet.” He cooes at you, rubbing your ass.

You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you hope it’s somewhere near the door.

“Hi, baby girl… You feelin’ good?” A raspy yet oh-so-familiar voice asks you. You rub your eyes as you’re set on someone’s lap. Ransom’s dark, lust-filled eyes lock with your tired ones. It takes you a good few moments to nod, and he chuckles. His hand comes up to your face, cupping your slightly sticky cheek. He caresses your face with his thumb, and you involuntarily lean into his touch.

Bucky pushes you farther into Ransom’s arms and he grabs your hurting hips. Cum leaks from both of your aching, stretched holes. Ransom’s hand leaves your cheek, but it quickly returns. But this time, it isn’t sweet and loving. No. Instead, he gives you a light slap on the cheek, just like Lee did. The coolness of his ring on your hot skin is… refreshing. It’s different.

Your ass is lifted into the air slightly, giving Bucky easy access to your stretched out rim. Bucky runs his hands up and down your ass, occasionally spanking you. The crack of his hand against your skin is just a reminder of your situation. You can feel Ransom’s cock resting right beneath your abused cunt, throbbing with want and need.

He grabs the base of his cock and lines the fat, leaking tip up to your cum-filled hole. Neither he nor Bucky needs any lube, all thanks to Andy and Charles. In one thrust, he fills you in a way that your fingers can’t. You can feel Bucky scoop up some of the cum leaking from your holes, along with your juices. Everywhere is tingling, a sensation unlike anything else.

He brings his fingers up to your mouth and Ransom squeezes your jaw until your mouth falls open, just like before. Bucky quickly pushes his fingers into your mouth. The taste of cum — salty, musky, and sweet — fills your mouth. It laps over your tongue and you involuntarily swallow it all. Whilst being distracted by Bucky’s fingers in your mouth, you don’t realize that he’s already pushing into your ass.

You gasp around his fingers as he quickly bottoms out inside you. Bucky’s too eager to take it slow. Bucky takes his now spit-slick fingers and wraps his arm around you, reaching down to your clit. You feel even more full than when Andy and Charles were in you. Maybe it’s the added cum, or maybe it’s the same and you’re just not used to being filled by two cocks.

Ransom moves his hand to your stomach and rubs the skin there — the bulging skin. The outline of his cock is faint, but it’s there. “Look at you, all filled up with our cocks.” Ransom whispers, before roughly grabbing your hips. He grinds you down onto his cock before lifting you slightly. Both he and Buckypull out slightly and start shallowly thrusting into you, almost in a teasing way.

You want more, you want more pleasure so badly. You want them to fuck you hard, for them to fuck you deeply and maybe even roughly. “You want something, don’t you, baby? So ungrateful…” Ransom disappointingly coaxes. You thrust back onto Bucky’s cock, a trick you learned from when you caught your ex-boyfriend balls-deep in your closest friend. Then, you grind down on Ransom’s cock.

Cum drips from both of your entrances and runs down the sides of their shafts and your inner thighs. “Fuck, if you wanted it that badly all you had to do was ask real sweetly.” Bucky groans, losing all sense and self-control. He pulls his cock out all the way, not even leaving the tip inside your ass. Ransom pulls halfway out and then bucks his hips up. He fucks back into you, but this time it’s more deep and punctuated.

“Oh— Thank you… Thank you, Sir!” You squeal as Ransom pounds against your g-spot over and over. His sticky, swollen, heavy balls slap against your empty ass. Bucky rubs your clit slowly, just to hear you whine like the desperate slut you are. “C’mon, make some noise for Daddy.” He demands in your ear, rubbing the tip of his cock on your other hole.

The feeling is lovely, but you crave more. “Please… Please fuck my ass, Daddy! I wan’ it so bad, wan’ you to put your big cock in me… Please, please…” You beg whilst you pant wildly. “примерная девочка.” He husks before pushing his hips forward. Despite having your… anal cherry being just popped, he acts as though you’re constantly begging to take it up the ass.

“Fuck, she doing that thing again,” Ransom comments, staring at your face. By ‘that thing,’ he means that way your mouth drops open in a silent scream and your eyes roll back into your skull. You clench around both Bucky’s and Ransom’s cocks, even though your muscles are barely working. You fall onto Ransom’s chest and you can hear his heart beating wildly in his chest, just like yours.

Unbeknownst to you, you just gave Bucky more leverage to fuck your ass. He takes his hand away from your clit and instead wraps it around your hair. He gives your hair a slight tug, and starts fucking you even harder. You dig your nails into Ransom’s chest at the stronger thrusts overpower your entire body and mind. You can hear a groan rumbling in his chest. “Fuck, best pussy I ever had.” He growls, finishing his sentence with one painful snap of his hips that goes straight to your cervix.

“Oh, can I come, please? I need it so— so badly, Daddy… Please, please let me come…” You beg, feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten up. The pressure increases and you’re not sure if you can hold out for a minute more. The lewd sounds, the feeling of their cocks driving in and out of you, and their moans all push you to the edge.

“Awe, well go ahead, little girl. You’ve earned it, come all over our cocks.”

“Yeah… Fuck— I don’t think ‘m gonna last any longer…” Bucky curses under his breath loud enough for you and Ransom to hear. Ransom nods, a bead of sweat running down his neck. Bucky’s metal hand comes up to your bra and he unhooks it. Ransom grabs the cheap fabric and throws it at one of his friends. Ransom gives a wink to Lee, who pockets your bra.

Your tits are sticky with dried champagne from before. Ransom has the urge to swirl his tongue around your hardened nubs until you’re coming around their cocks once again. But his basic needs are just more important than yours as of now. Bucky’s hips still first, his brutality against your ass finally coming to an end.

He swallows thickly — but he gets caught off by a loud, deep moan of his own. It’s right in your ear, and Bucky has you use your body as a brace to hold himself up. His balls tighten up and cum shoots inside your ass. You’re far more sensitive than the previous time and now you can feel every single drop painting your walls. Ransom follows, his load pumping into you in a relieving way. Your walls encompass them both, hugging them tightly.

Bucky fucks into you with a few more thrusts; shallow and quick. He prolongs his orgasm until his mind is fuzzy and his cock can’t take it. He pulls out, removing his hand from your hair and he sighs. His and Andy’s cum follows his cock along with a streak of light pink. He feels nice, prideful in a way that throughout all the pain, you only ever took pleasure.

Ransom keeps his cock locked inside of you, and he just knows that you’re on the verge of either crying, screaming, or passing out. He also knows that you’re smart, and won’t do anything other than remain docile for Sebastian and Chris. “C- Can I go now? I won’t tell anyone– I swear!” You plead to Ransom in an excited sort of whisper. Ransom clenches his jaw and stares down at you, and your lips turn down into a frown.

“You’re lucky we aren’t alone.” He tells you and his words are enough to shut you up. You whimper, but you don’t apologize. “You’ve been such a good girl…” Sebastian says from behind you. You turn around and look up at him. He smiles at you and it’s gentle, almost reassuring. But you don’t return it. Sebastian wraps his muscly arms around you and picks you up with ease.

Ransom’s cock slips from your folds with ease, and cum drips from your filled up pussy. White stickiness drips down your slightly sweaty thighs and it makes you feel so conscience-stricken. Unlike every other time — like when you were sucking off Lee and Steve, or getting fucked by Ransom and Bucky or Charles and Andy — you’re now standing up. It’s weird, a funny feeling that might take you a few seconds to get used to.

Chris comes up to you and he has a menacing stance. He cups your face with his soft yet slightly coarse hands. You flinch, scared that he’ll slap you the way Ransom did beforehand. Luckily, he doesn’t. “Aw, you’re scared, aren’t you?” Chris asks you, rubbing your top lip with his thumb. You hesitatingly nod. “Don’t be. The only thing you should be scared of is us destroying your holes… And by the looks of it, it seems like we already have.” He chuckles in a mocking manner.

You gulp thickly and try to ignore the newfound wetness that is pooling in your core. Along with it is a fire that doesn’t seem to be put out yet. Sebastian’s hands move from your waist to your back, and then to your hips. His movements are gentle and soft, almost as if his intentions hold no malice. But the truth is a complete contrast to what he’s trying to imply.

He spins you around in one swift movement and your world tilts on its axis for a brief moment. You grip his biceps as you try to get a hold of yourself. “Wanna see this pretty face while I fuck you into oblivion.” He mumbles under his breath, and you can feel Chris’s hands running all over your hurting ass. “And I wanna see this ass while I fuck it.” Chris chuckles in your ear once again.

He lands a spank onto your ass, watching the skin ripple in such a marvellous way he swears he’ll never see a girl as pretty as you. Sebastian lifts you up and on instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel Sebastian’s cock right near your beaten up, cum-filled entrance. Then, you feel Chris’s tip at your other entrance.

They both thrust into you at once, and a loud squelching noise fills the room. “That cunt is so filled up…” Steve comments from the side, slowly jerking his cock off. You squeeze your eyes shut at his words, and try to block them out. Sebastian lets out a choked moan, whereas Chris groans lowly in your ear.

They both hold you up by your ass, and they start to thrust into you hard and fast. Your head lols back onto Chris’s shoulder and you can barely keep up with them. Sebastian’s hips buck up to your pussy and his cockhead slams into your cervix. “Ow…” You whine, before biting down on your lip. Your lipstick is smeared and your makeup is all ruined, but that seems to be the last thing on your mind.

You’re so fucking sensitive, it’s practically hilarious. Your little body has reached its limit... but maybe your body has no limit anymore. “Shh, just give up, babydoll. You’re doing so good, letting us use you.” Sebastian praises as he delivers a nice, harsh thrust. Chris ruts into you like no tomorrow, treating you like the fleshlight you are.

“Yeah– You love getting used. Bet your boyfriend couldn’t fuck you like this, couldn’t make you feel this good. He probably didn’t know how much of a slut you are.” Chris whispers in your ear whilst he grinds his cock into you. Both of their cocks are covered in cum, but they don’t mind. “These holes belong to us, right? All ours, ready to be used anytime.” Mr. Evans adds.

His slightly greying beard scratches your skin, right where Ransom was choking you. He places a few kisses on your bruising, hurting neck. Your hardened nipples rub against Sebastian’s sweaty chest, and your bulging abdomen touches his, too. “It’s… ‘S too much..” You complain in a dragged out, pathetic whine that turns into a moan. “Oh, it’s too much? Poor baby… Do you want us to slow down?” Chris asks, bringing his thrusts to a halt.

You nod before you start begging because you know they want the cherry on top. “Yes, please. Please, Sir, please slow down.” You ask them politely. You even flash your signature puppy dog eyes, hoping they haven’t gone out of style yet. They both coo at you, before smirking at each other. You shut your eyes and sigh, but your eyelids fly back open when you feel Sebastian and Chris starting to fuck you even harder.

“Too bad,” Sebastian grunts. “You’re going to take whatever the fuck we give you.” He sneers, and you can feel that pressure in your stomach beginning to increase. But it’s too much, more than you can handle. You shake your head and beg them to stop, but your pleas are silenced when Chris wraps his hand around your throat.

Every word that’s in your mouth dies down, and the only thing that comes from you are your moans and whimpers. “You’re gonna come, aren’t you? Just can’t help it, it feels too fucking good, doesn’t it? Do it, come all over our cocks right fucking now.” Sebastian growls as your moans become louder and your grip on their cocks grow tighter.

Your legs are shaking as you come undone. Your hands curl into fists and your eyes shut as they roll back. Your wet walls gush around their thick, long cocks and they continue to fuck you until you’re babbling like a dumb little baby. “Fuck…” Chris curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppy. It’s the same for Sebastian, and inside you’re elated.

Finally, finally, it’s all over.

They both pull out and you’re all but confused. They set you on the ground and you can barely stand without holding on to either Chris or Sebastian. Lee chuckles, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment. “Oh, don’t be like that.” Ransom sasses from Lee’s left side. He’s right. These men just put you through hell, and that’s what you’re going to be embarrassed about?

Pathetic.

Sebastian pushes you to your knees and you fall with a muffled thud. Once again, the carpet digs into your knees but this time it isn’t as painful. You look up, and you’re suddenly surrounded by everyone. Mr. Stan, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Bodecker, Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Evans, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Drysdale, and Mr. Barber… You’re not sure whether you should look at any of them in the eyes or not.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what to do. Should you run? Scream? Fight? Stay put? Millions of thoughts run through your mind but none of them seem to fully register. Everyone’s dominant hands are on their cocks, moving up and down at a rather fast pace. Chris and Sebastian fuck their hands even faster, eager to meet their climaxes.

Their moans and groans go straight to your wet pussy, fueling certain feelings you had been trying to push down all night. “Fuck, yes…” Chris moans coarsely. His balls tighten up and his red tip lets out spurts of cum. He paints your face and you nearly gag out of disgust. “You look even prettier with– with your face painted like that.” Lee groans, and he comes too. “Open up.” He orders in a creepy sing-song voice.

You listen to him obediently, and you haven’t noticed that the alcohol in your system has dissipated. His cum shoots straight into your mouth, his signature taste of muskiness and salt spreading across your tongue. After a few more seconds, Chris finally stops. He admires the way your face is covered in cum — his cum, to be exact. “C’mon, swallow it all like the good slut you are.” Sebastian urges, and his streaks of stickiness begin to shoot from his tip, too.

He paints your chest, almost like it’s a canvas. As much as you hate to admit it, this all turns you on even more. You can feel your wetness leaking from your cunt. Lee’s finger drags through the cum that’s on your face and he scoops some of it up. He pushes his finger into your mouth and shakes his head when he learns you haven’t swallowed his seed yet.

His frown is enough for you to listen. You swallow with difficulty, which comes from his digit. Your tongue laps up the cum on his finger and he smiles down at you. He pulls his finger out with a ‘pop’ and your legs are being spread again. You know for a fact you can’t take anything more, but you also know that they probably don’t care.

Ransom aims for your cunt, Steve too. They both come at the same time, loud moans escaping past their plump lips. More cum joins the gratuitous amount that’s already there. Once they stop moaning and they stop coming, you’re turned over onto your stomach. You already know that the carpet is probably a mess that dry cleaning might not accept.

Bucky and Charles cover your ass in ropes of their seed, and your messy chest presses into the ground. There’s more cum on you and in you than there is dignity. “Fuck, I wish my phone wasn’t dead. I would’ve taken so many lovely pictures of our masterpiece here.” Bucky groans, and he continues to give his cock a few more strokes just to lengthen his orgasm.

Andy is the last, only because he has patience for things like this. He paints your back like he’s Monet, or maybe even Da Vinci. Sebastian kneels down in front of you and picks your head up from off the ground. His thumb smears the cum on your face into your skin, and you don’t even have the energy to ask them if it’s all over. He chuckles, before standing back up again.

“Looks like you really were a good girl this year.”

[inhuman-obey-me]

Could you please do 🩸with Barbatos and MC

"What kind of blood will you bleed?" - Barbatos/MC

content warnings: blood (lol), gore/violence, suggestive

Since first arriving in the Devildom, there is one thing that has been made very clear -- you are living in a world far different from your own. You have noticed how at times you have two shadows instead of one, how the moon would glow brilliantly though there was no sun to give it its light, how whispers seemed to fill the air although there was no one there. Even when in the middle of the bustling capital city, something always seems to be … off.

The Demon Lord’s castle is no different -- painted eyes always watching you, flickers of light that cast silhouettes that shouldn’t be there, slight rumbles as if the very walls were alive -- and the ones that made up the underground labyrinth very much were. Even tonight, as you attend another one of Diavolo’s many grand parties, you know that you must always stay close to one of those you trust.

So how did things end up like this?

Your memory is hazy, unsure of what steps led you now to be in a dark corridor with sharp teeth ready at your throat, prepared to eat whatever scream you could let out before it leaves your lips. Abruptly, the heat at your neck is gone and replaced with empty cold air, and a voice you know well brings a calm to all of your senses.

“Well, well, Karelesa, to think you would pull such a trick under His Highness’ very nose.”

Your sight refocuses, and you see that Barbatos has tightly wound his tail around the body of the demon who had sought to make you her prey. He thrusts the demon against the opposing wall, and a sharp knife seems to appear from his sleeve with a flourish as if he was performing a human magic trick.

“I wonder,” Barbatos wears a sadistic smile, blade pressed against the lesser demon’s flesh. “What kind of blood will you bleed, hm?”

“I know deep down you desire to devour humans as well, Lord Barbatos.” Karelesa spits out, trying to mask her utter fear. “Wh-why don’t you ask that of the human?”

“Oh, I know what they bleed.” Barbatos’ eyes flicker to you, and something in his gaze causes warmth to spread through your very core. “Humans only bleed one color, one type, after all. You, however, are far more interesting of a specimen.” A gloved hand goes to cover her mouth to muffle her screams, his other hand skillfully slicing through her skin and peeling it from her bones. “Ah, a wonderfully vibrant and viscous chartreuse. A beautiful color, one fitting to paint the walls with.”

He makes quick work of Karelesa -- horrifyingly quick, you think. Two ghostly attendants appear out of thin air, carting off what is left of her down into the depths of the dark passage and out of sight. Slowly, Barbatos turns to you as he wipes the knife clean on a handkerchief.

“Are you alright, my dear? I’m terribly sorry you had to deal with that, and … to witness such a gruesome act.”

“It’s okay,” You quickly assure him, forcing your legs to move to approach him. You’re safe now, and yet you find your heart still beating quickly. “Thank you, Barbatos.” A pause, and you attempt to lighten the mood, “You really are skilled with a knife.”

“Oh?” There is amusement in his dark eyes. Suddenly, you feel the cool of metal on your cheek, carefully placed so that it does not cut skin as gloved fingers firmly grip your jaw, thumb pressed against your lower lip. “I can show you just how skilled I am, if you’d like.”

[apocalypticgargoyle]

I read the edgy!karl, I’ve just finished reading the alt!dream, WHEN IS GEORGE GONNA BE NEXT 😩😩

*cracks knuckles* the hcs that everyone has provided me with has hella prepped me and I'm ready. this is dedicated to 🍭 anon, whose fanart always steals my entire heart. i love u babe

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ᶤ 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤!𝐠𝐧𝐟

± pairings: punk!Georgenotfound x fm!reader

± word count: ~3300

± warnings: smut (18+), language, tattoo work, sadism, pain kink (if you squint), domination, mentions of needles, asphyxiation

song recommendation: Cent Fois by Alice et Moi

George’s mind wandered to his curiosity of the shop across from his tattoo parlor; bright neon signs advertising the local psychic. It was a stark contrast to the dark, wet city housing the businesses. Each night he locked up, he found himself standing on the other edge of the street, staring at the signs and draperies peeking from behind the glass windows and considering shedding his skeptical nature just for one night.

While your business was alluring in and of itself, his true draw to the place came after he had spotted you moving into the apartments above. Your clean appearance completely juxtaposed the business you ran. In his opinion, all natural healers and psychics were born scam artists only focused on the quickest way to pinch a penny.

Yet day after day, he found himself having to tear his eyes from your business just to get home or he would actually venture inside. He was rather subtle about his fascination when it came to his co-workers and regular customers, but each day he prayed you would wander in, requesting some kind of tattoo in a place hidden from outside eyes.

A place he’d like to see again in a less professional setting.

You flipped the textbook page after finishing your paragraph, highlighting a date you were looking for before leaning towards your notebook and scribbling down the fact. You gnawed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly, positive you still didn’t know what your professor had been rattling off about in class a few hours prior. Your sights drifted up to the incense burning across the store from you, the stick on its last few centimeters of wood as the smoke went stale.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, debating if you should light another or wait until morning. You capped your marker and stretched your back, the bell over the door letting out a telling chime as a man peeked in.

You leaned over the counter, closing your books. “Good evening! Welcome to After Life. Can I help you find anything?” You rambled, your mind flashing to the sheet of paper tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror so you didn’t forget the basics of customer service.

The man stepped further into your view, stuffing his fists in his jean pockets as he walked closer in a cautious motion. His dark t-shirt advertised a band you had vaguely heard of, but couldn’t think of a song even if your life depended on it. What really drew your attention were his tattooed arms; branches from a grand tree twisting every which direction to peek out from beneath his sleeves; bright floral designs and litters of birds decorating the dark wood limbs. You bit back a smile at the small mushroom tattoo near his wrist that seemed to be out of place.

The laces of his Chuck Taylors grazed the floor before he was standing in the middle of your store, looking around briefly. “I actually co-own the parlor across the street. I realized I never welcomed you officially,” he stated, hints of nervousness reflecting in his tone. His accent was calming and husky from the season change.

At the mention of the tattooist across the street, your memory flashed to the various walks of life that found themselves in your store after getting work done. You also thought of the fact that you had seen the man before you break up fights in the street stretching between your properties. The tall muscular people seemed to have no effect on him as he’d pull them apart like school children on the playground.

You pushed your books further to the side. “Oh yeah, that’s right! I should have come over and introduced myself, so don’t worry about it,” you eased, swatting the air of his comment.

He chuckled softly before reality seemed to snap into his head, making him step forward and extend a hand to you. “I’m George, by the way,” he introduced. You took his hand, muttering your own name and hoping your attention span would hold for long enough that he would be entered into your long-term memory.

His hand was calloused in yours, something that you wondered came with the job or if he was some kind of carpenter in a past life of his. You gently pulled his hand closer to you, slipping your hold out of his to look at his palm. He tittered nervously, peering at the flesh with you. Your finger traced along the mounts in his hand, finding Jupiter to be the most prominent. “That checks out,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding softly.

His eyebrows perked up. “What? Am… Am I gonna meet a tall dark stranger and take a trip across the sea?” He joked, making you smile as you looked at his Sun line.

“I didn’t peg you as an Outlander fan,” you chided.

His brows flattened for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip and playing with his snake bite piercings. You found it hard to look away from him. “Honestly, I wasn’t. A girl I was fooling around with really liked it. I don’t know…” he trailed off, making you giggle.

Your nail grazed along his heart line. “You guys were just fooling around?” You quirked, eyes meeting his. His expression narrowed smugly as if urging you to continue. “Your heart line begins below your index finger. You’re not the fooling around type.” He let out a snort. “You fall in love easily too.”

He sighed with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was amazed or mocking you again. “Well, yeah. That’s…” He paused with a swallow, biting back a grin as if he was uncomfortable, but didn’t retract his hand from you. “... That’s why we’re not anymore,” he admitted. He leaned his elbows on the counter as you sat in your chair. “What else does it say?”

Your lips curled into a soft smirk, his curious eyes trailing over your face as if to watch your brain work. “You have a fire element hand which indicates that you’re confident and passionate. Maybe a bit cocky sometimes,” you teased, making him chuckle with you. You could feel his eyes on you, sending heat to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on the mount of Venus under your touch.

You wanted to ask him about his sexual indulgences, mainly because of the prevalence of Venus in his palm. “You have a mount in Jupiter, which means you’re a natural leader, and rather dominant.” You looked up at him again, watching as he bit back a smirk, seemingly understanding the subtle innuendos behind your statements.

George seemed to have some kind of effect on you, your thoughts clouding with the idea of what his snake bites would feel like against your lips. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but there was no discoloration to his skin to suggest he was the one smoking. He watched you through the hair threatening to dangle over his eyes, his gaze hinting at an attraction he had for you below his collected form. “Go on,” he murmured, voice soft and wispy as the space between the two of you seemed to warm.

You made a conscious effort to keep your sultry thoughts at bay as your thumb brushed over the area you had been avoiding telling him about. “You’re driven by desire,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… very in touch with your sexuality and you thrive on your indulgences.”

You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, the dark irises swimming with some kind of cocky smugness at what you had just told him. He pulled away from you, gently standing up. Part of you wished the counter between the two of you would vanish just so you could be pressed up against George at the mercy of his driven mind. “I feel it's only fair I tattoo you now,” he quipped, making your eyebrows raise. Your confidence shriveled yet you swore you wouldn’t let him know that fact.

You chewed on your lip, looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. “Oh, I’ve never been tattooed,” you avowed, voice carrying the slightest bit of your coaxing nature.

He smirked. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he cajoled, teeth playing at his piercings again as you were sure he was already undressing you with his eyes. “You read me, I’d like to do the same.”

And how could you refuse such an appealing offer?

You leaned back on your elbows, your skin sticking to the leather chair beneath you as you watched him pull back his hair, elastic band dangling from his white teeth. Despite securing back his locks, bits of his bangs still hung over his forehead. You liked the interior of his parlor, maybe because it was only the two of you.

George began to fill small caps of dark ink. “I think you should get some crystals in here,” you teased, making him smirk. “I could hook you up.”

“What, like a salt lamp?” He joked, pulling on a pair of dark plastic gloves.

You snorted, lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “It might be good. Lighten the place up a bit.” George swiveled his chair closer to you muttering some kind of line about only getting them from you, but his words fell silent on your ears as his hand pushed up your shirt. You were silently thanking whatever divine force above for swaying you towards slinkier lingerie earlier that morning.

You knew he could see the lacy edges of your bra by the way his eyes nonchalantly flashed up to you before laying out his template on your ribs. You could feel hints of his warm breath against your skin as he studied it. “You can look at it if you want,” he stated.

You shook your head, wanting him close to you as long as he could be. “I trust you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his again. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he struggled not to smile at your statement. He had promised to cover a small scar for you and by the way he explained it, you were ready to be in his hands. You wet your lips as he adjusted the speed on his tattoo gun. “Will this hurt?” You asked, tucking one of your arms behind your head.

The look of unadulterated lust that he gave you made your toes want to curl. “Probably a bit. It feels good sometimes, though,” he answered. He came closer to you, resting his forearm on your stomach to angle himself in the right position. At the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, you swore your body was on fire. It took everything in your power not to moan. It could have been the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, but his soft breath and the anticipation of the needle made you feel like a junky. “I’ll be gentle, darling,” he leered, his accent muddy and low. He let the needles drag against your skin and you bit your lip, trying not to hiss at the pain. His eyes met yours. “See, not bad.”

You let out a breathy wheeze. “Shut up, you sadist,” you quipped, his chuckle coming out rather roguish as he focused on the work in front of him. Your nerves were more focused on the way George’s hands were barely caressing your body as if teasing and hinting at what he could do to you.

You drew in a sharp breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Shhh shh. It’ll be over soon,” he cooed, his voice sending goosebumps spreading across your body as his lips tugged into a light smirk. By your palm reading, you knew he was enjoying having this much control over you.

Part of you found it almost torture when George would look at you with soft and lusty eyes for merely a second before his gaze jutted back down to his work, murmuring soft praises about how well you were taking the pain. You would go under the needle anytime he asked, just to receive the sultry treatment he gave.

He was so close, you could have driven your fingers into his dark hair if you wanted. “How did you get this scar?” He asked, cleaning off some of the ink before continuing.

“A knife fight,” you answered without missing a beat, making him scoff. “Actually, I fell into my grandma’s glass table one time. My cousin was teaching me the Electric Slide,” you corrected, making him laugh, shaking his head slightly as he filled in a spot.

He let his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s so cute. Did you ever get it figured out?” To this you shook your head, the both of you laughing. You let out a groan as the needle dug into another area on your ribs, the sound making his eyes dart up to you. He leaned off of you, slipping one of his gloves off. “Wanna hold my hand, sweetheart?” He joked, but you took his offer, squeezing his hand in yours when it got painful enough. You held it close to your chest, hoping he would feel your heartbeat quicken each time he looked at you.

As he finished up his work, his thumb brushed against your hand absent-mindedly. You could tell by the way he gripped your hand as well that he enjoyed that the tattoo hurt you. Most of your mind was excited by how easily he was stirred up by you, while the rest was completely unsurprised and even threatened to bite out that he was a cliché.

When he was finally satisfied, he cleaned you up and stuck on a SecondSkin, biting back a grin at his work as he pulled you up by the hand he was holding onto you with. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited you were to see, swinging your legs over the side of his hair and walking towards his mirror. You held your shirt up, chewing on your bottom lip as you grinned at the ink. George rested a hand beside the mirror, watching you beam at his work.

All of his lines were flawless, your scar completely disappearing within his shading. You’d pitched the idea of an ode to the Creation of Adam. While it was cliche, what better to fit in the space below your breast and give George the impression that you were cultured. Yet you told him he could do whatever he wanted to it, resulting in one of the hands resembling a skeleton and the other holding a sucker. As you praised him, he shrugged off your comments, murmuring about it being his pleasure. He reached out his free hand, letting his thumb smooth over one of the edges of this bandage, which brought you closer to him.

Your cheeks warmed at the close proximity to him as his eyes grazed over your body before meeting your own. His hand moved from the bandage to your back. You leaned on your toes, pressing your lips to his. The tension between the two of you dissipated as he hungrily reacted, pulling you against him and savoring your moans as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

George’s hands moved down your body, swiftly hooking around your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring you back to his chair. Your hands moved into his hair, letting it loose and wrapping the band around your wrist. The leather was cold as your back pressed to it. George leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing more of the tree painting the expanses of his skin.

If you weren’t so eager to be touched by him, you’d be studying the work of art.

As his lips met yours again, you ground your hips against his, eliciting a moan to vibrate through his chest. You raked your nails down his back, trying to further draw out reactions from him as his hands attentively played with the lace of your bra, fingers ghosting over the skin pressing against the cups.

His lips left yours only to travel the length of your jaw and inch his way toward your waistband. Your pants were discarded with a swift tug from him before he pulled your thighs flush against his, grinding his hips against yours, hands gripping onto your sides to keep you in place. You tilted your head back, relishing in the friction as your body screamed to finally feel him take advantage of you.

You reached between the two of you, tugging at his zipper as your hunger for him escalated. His tongue flattened against your collarbone before his teeth pressed into your skin. You could feel his arousal through his jeans at the sound of your whimpering.

He pumped himself in his hand before pressing into you, the feeling of him inside of you making your head spin as if you were on some kind of ecstasy. Your moan came out needy and desperate as he thrust into you, gripping the edge of the leather seat as his breath hummed against your skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, raking your nails down his neck as he groaned in your ear at the feeling.

One of his hands grasped your wrists together, pinning them above your head while the other wrapped around your throat. His eyes burned into yours as he leaned back, leaning his weight on your wrists and squeezing your throat, the lack of oxygen making each of your senses more heightened as he pounded into you.

Your moans of George’s name were grated as they slipped through your mouth, his relentless pace and intense hold nearly making you drool from the stimulation. By the practice of his actions, you wondered how long he had been stewing on demolishing you in this way.

He loosened his grip on your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip just to hear you groan from the rough action. You rolled your hips against his, letting him slow his pace to reach deeper within you. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he rubbed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the makeup smudging around your eyes from his antics and the heat between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, wrapping his hand around the edge of the chair again to drive himself into you, the new angle muddling your mind and vision as your body ached to come undone. You sank your nails into his back, earning his low, raspy whispers of your name.

At his praises, you came, tugging on his hair as he bit into your shoulder again, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

The next day, George stretched his shoulders, peering through the front window of his shop. His mind sparked with the feeling of your legs around his waist and the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He could practically hear you whimpering his name in his ears as he went back to touching up a fading tattoo on his friend’s arm.

“OW, George,” Clay rumbled, thigh flinching at the jab from George.

George snorted, his mind still on the high he got from your pure trust in him as you laid out on his chair. “I’ll give you something to bitch about,” George grumbled, releasing just how gentle he was during your tattoo. The way your voice got soft and quiet when he rolled over a spot that was rather tender already would most definitely be a guilty pleasure of his.

Clay barked at him again as George jerked his hand, fulfilling his promise. “I’VE BEEN NICE TO YOU ALL MORNING.”

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