#not tagging the rest cause mark is there for the gag

[aeonophagic]

[invincible]

[staarboyyy]

a worthy test

mark hoffman x gender neutral reader

18+ scenarios / characters - minors dni

tags / warnings ; dead dove, detective!reader, kidnapping, smut, gender neutral anatomy, gags, rough sex, slapping, needles, drugging, unhealthy dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, size difference kink, age difference, creampie, big ol man tiddies YEEHAWW!!

summary ; you and your team of investigators have been after jigsaw's apprentice for months, yet waking up bound to a chair makes way for suprises more sinister than you could have imagined

word count ; 1.6k

a/n; blame this fic on @sehtoast and all of cozy corner for being such lovely encouraging folk :) anyways enough mushy shit, take the long awaited nasty stuff!

You awoke to a strange sensation. Everything in the past 18 hours had been nothing more than a blur, your eyes opening slowly, squinting in the bright light that was forcing its way through your lids. It was a struggle to recall anything, swimming through the cloudy memories to sift out the important ones. You tried turning your head, desperate for some clue as to how you'd ended up in this room, let alone bound to a cold rusty chair.

"Morning Detective."

A familiar voice breathed into the cold air, causing you to jump slightly. You blinked with a harsh squint, eyes struggling to take in the form of the man before you, still adjusting to the dim room. All the while, your heart pounded in your chest as the large silhouette revealed itself. It was Mark - You and your team had been after him for months ever since you learned of his betrayal. His piercing eyes are fixed upon you, his expression hard and emotionless.

He kept his gaze on you as panic began to surface in the flush of your cheeks, blush rushing in your ears. No. This must be a nightmare, a delusion - Anything besides the truth. You struggled for a moment with the fabric gag wrapped around your mouth and jaw, tied behind your head. You were not just desperate to speak, you wanted to scream, to demand a fucking answer for everything as the man stood in front of you, hands behind his back. Was he pleased? His expression was difficult to read, head cocking slightly off to the side as he watched you struggle before him. A smirk pushed at the corner of his full lips, eyebrows twitching slightly - He looked almost confused at your panic and desperation to understand the situation. In his eyes, you should be thankful to still be afraid enough just to worry and wonder, taking in every shuddered breath with rousing appreciation. At this, you wanted to feel sick. You wanted to.

      The cold leather of his gloved sent rolling chills over the backs of your arms, hairs on your neck at a sharp standstill. He was your colleague. He had always been cold, brutally honest for the sake of what you thought had been good. Surely there had to be something good still in the man before you, who now wore a prowling gaze like a stalking predator. Your teeth grit at the red fabric tied tightly around your head, trying to bite back the words that roared in your mind - No way in hell you'd break first.

      "Somethin' wrong?"

     His voice was quiet, his body stilling as he walked behind you, gloved hands resting on your shoulders. The leather was cold, his thumbs digging uncomfortably hard into your back, causing you to grunt slightly.

      "You look like you've seen a ghost, sugar." 

     Mark's hands slid over your body, taking little time to savor how you felt under his hands, his fingers beginning to slowly unlatch your wrists from the chair. It wasn't hesitant, the movement was practiced - He knew his presence alone kept you pinned to the spot. No binds needed, not with the pooling arousal that now flushed your cheeks and mind, your thighs shifting uncomfortably in the rusting chair. The man's steps echoed through the dark warehouse, now facing you with a strangely bored expression, eyes darting towards your bound ankles. The detective pulled in a slow breath as your heartbeat rushed in your ears, tilting his head as he kept his gaze on your ankles.

     "You gonna be good?"

He didn't bother to look towards you as he spoke, practically speaking to himself as he slowly knelt before you. It would be so easy, you thought. To run, to push him away and fight him off. The latches came undone, and he rose to his full height once again. He shadowed over your figure, shoulders wide and dress shirt buttons straining, sleeves rolled over his thick forearms; There was no fight worth trying for, not as he pulled you like a ragdoll from the chair and pressed your cheek against the brick wall.

     Your blood ran cold. You were in over your head. You could feel Mark's grasp on your hips, thumbs rubbing over the protruding bones with a perverse hunger. His hands were able to cover your entire lower back, shamelessly palming at your ass. “Wait, just-” Your voice was silenced when one of the older man’s hands slid up your clothed back, fingers tangling in your hair for a moment, savoring the sudden sound of skin against skin. With a strangled gasp, Mark's fingers tightened on your hair, making a fist and forcing your body against his own; Somewhere in Mark’s mind, he could hear your screaming. Your abundant surprised gasps and yelps would surface over his clouded mind, as he watched you struggle helplessly, wincing at your outcries. With a clench of his jaw, he felt a proud smile prod at the corners of his lips, the thoughts brushing past him. He had just sunken half way inside, yet the strange pulling burn of being stretched open planting a growing arousal. Sweat rolled down his back in beads, bending in pools with his tensing body as he ruthlessly used you, pinned underneath him. You had been a vice on Mark's cock, suffocating your mind and body with an insatiable hunger, a chemical greed to be adequately filled and used, to be bred without gentle caresses or soft words. The man released your hair, reaching forward towards your throat and clasping his fingers tightly around it, using grip as leverage to tear through you even deeper. Every inch of your body roared in numbing desire, twitching as your senses ricocheted voraciously. You arched your back eagerly into the man above you, tears stinging your bottom lashes to fall as Mark remorselessly gripped your throat, ceasing the gasps instantly. The line between pleasure and pain began to blur as your vision did, eyes rolling shut, squeezing them closed as you endured the desperate assault, body licked and abused by unwavering flames and large animalistic hands - The smell of cologne smothered your consciousness, tears casing your flushed cheeks as strangled gasps emerged from your throat. Though you couldn't sense the words gathering in your mind, nor taste them leave your frantic lips, you could feel them in the air; The unabashed begging, pleading Mark not to stop. You sobbed bit hard onto the saliva soaked gag between your lips, aimless and muffled as Mark's pace began to slow.

     "Don't stop,"

    Mark's large hand glided over your hips, tracing down your arms to wrap over both your wrists. He gave a punctuating thrust forward, bottoming out inside of you with a strangled moan, head dipping forward as he pulled your body against his own. You were a toy to him, his hands exploring your body, groping your thighs and sliding his digits past your gag, groaning quietly at the feeling of your tongue against his gloved fingers. Your body was shaking, glazed in sweat as you stood on your tippy-toes to keep up with the man who so effortlessly pulled you into his demanding thrusts. His cock twitched as you squirmed, body wanting so badly to fight the pleasure that now threatened to spill over.

     "You're gonna be the death of me - So fuckin' tight,"

     Mark slammed his hips forward with every word, his hold on your wrists tightening, pulling you away from the wall to press impossibly deeper into you. Your body seared with pleasure and pain, rousing a euphoric heat to spark and glaze itself on your skin - It was electric, how he handled your full weight; No, not just handled it, he insisted it. He wanted you, all of you. He wanted you in tears, drool rolling down your lips as you beg for more in that precious muffled whimper. His cock pulsed inside you, thrusts becoming messy as he watched your ass push snugly against his hips, bouncing back, desperate for even more. No words could properly describe what you craved from the other, your body shaking and knees threatening to buckle underneath your weight, sweat dripping from your temples and jaw. It was a hot blinding spark, your body quaking as your scream pitched up to break, echoing throughout the abaonded warehouse. It didn't matter if you were limp, mind numb and broken as he kept your body tight against his own.

     "You're mine. Understand that?"

     You couldn't respond, hardly registering his voice until the leather palm came to slap hard against your flushed cheek. Your eyes flew open in shock, pulling in a deep gasp, only to be cut off by his hand gripping your throat.

     "Thaat's right, you're all mine - Fuck baby,"

     Marks euphoria reached it's peak, eyes glued to your body rutting shamelessly against him as his cock spilled messily into you. He fucked his cum deep, keeping ahold of you with a grasp sure enough to leave flowering bruises. He gasped sharply, eyes sliding shut as they rolled back, lips hanging open; You were his, entirely. Even as you woke from a fading haze, thighs messily stained with cum and flowered with large bruises, you were still wrapped in a thick quilt. It didn't matter where you were, your mind spinning as the cold puncture of a sedative filled needle pushed into your forearm. You would have atleast opened your eyes to see the perpetrator, but the feeling of his leather gloves against your skin had become a familar one.

     "Sleep well, detective."

[animereaderinsertwriter]

to fuck a god

tags/warnings: smut, ares x nymph!reader, erwin smith x reader, ancient greece au for a hot minute

a/n: this fic is a gift for the lovely, wonderful @bluebellhairpin whom i adore (and is responsible for my schmexy icon!!!!)

There is shouting in the distance.

Your nose wrinkles, your eyes tighten. Darkness, warm and weighted, presses against you, smothering wakefulness. Peace lulls you back to slumber.

Moments later, there is a scream—  you hear it past the darkness, past the weight. It is the lonely, abandoned cry of a wounded soldier. Your heart lurches, your eyes flutter.

Still you sleep. It has been too long since last you had rest.

It is a crash that finally wakes you. Pain blossoms in your abdomen as a bridge collapses, a crushing pressure that forces air from your lungs. You rise, hot, raging, vengeful; your waters churn, boiling wine-dark with the blood of mortal men. Battle has come to your riverbank, unbidden and unwanted. 

The men do not— cannot— see your body as you emerge from foaming rapids, but that does not lessen the doom they face by the outstretching of your hand. This is your river. The silt and sand beneath their feet, the water in their noses and lungs belong to you; they will not savage it without price

They pay with their lives by the dozen. You extract it from them mercilessly, plunging them beneath the water's surface. As your rapids rage, one man reaches, lunging to gouge another with his spear; even in your wrath, you mark the act as strange. What manner of beast is man that even in the throes of his own death, he seeks to cause another's? You find it too foolish to fathom.

 “For Athens!” cries one man just before you fill his lungs with water. “For the noble House of—”

He does not finish. You smother his battle cry with watery death. Athens could burn for all you cared, along with every noble house and home along the way. You cared little for irreverent man; would that the gods would send you power enough to flood them all.

 “Such fury from one so small. Would that I could inspire like rage in even fifty men.”

The voice, though gruff and deep, was quiet, bemused. In your distraction, you allow a man to escape your clutches and crawl back to shore, gagging and sputtering as he went. Furious, you turn and find the true object of your ire lounging beneath the shade of a fig tree, a scroll in hand. Once, it might have amused you to find the god of war reading, of all things— but you were accustomed now to his all-too-frequent visits, and the oddity had worn off its charm.

“Restless vagabond,” you spit, feet slapping as you walked from your place in the water to the shore next to his tree. “Go back to Sparta, Ares—you're not wanted here.”

So saying, you fold your arms, waiting for a response. When the god doesn’t deign to reply, you flick water from the tips of your fingers in his direction. Shiny droplets land in his dark hair, glistening like dew; a single shimmer of water races down the thick bridge of his nose, then dives off the blunt tip of it to land on his scroll.

“Woman.” 

The word is spoken lowly— a warning— but has no real bite. Your words, however, are far from toothless, heedless of how great and terrible is the power that he wields.

“I am no mere woman— no more than you are mere man.”

Dark-bright eyes look up at you, their russet brown edging on red as they sparkle with mischief. As his gaze follows the curves and plains of your body, Ares smiles— the very definition of crude and lascivious.

“You are a woman in all the ways that count.”

That, you supposed, was true enough.

“Why have you come?”

He nods towards the chaos of your river.

“The men brought me.”

“As if mortal man makes his own war.” Your face contorts into a scowl. “I ask again: Why have you come? Why come you to savage my banks, pollute my waters with foul man-blood and stinking mortal shit?”

“I told you the truth, pretty one.” Ares rolled his scroll gently. It crackled under his huge hands, but did not bend. “The men wage war, and whithersoever they wage, there I must be also.”

“Pretty one,” you grumble, angry at how well the compliment pleased you. “Better wrathful one, or vengeful one.”

“Those too, if it pleases you.”

He stands, brushing grass from his toga. The clothing in question, made of crimson fabric, falls just shy of halfway down his bulging, golden thigh, revealing softly curving muscle. The hulking mass of him throws a shadow long enough to cast doubt and fear into your very bones, even more so as he approaches you— but then he is close, so very close, and murmuring sweetly just for you to hear.

“Come, my Lady Wrath, my Darling Vengeance— does my presence really disturb you so greatly?”

You can smell the battle on him. His scent is metallic, like blood, and salty like sweat— and yet there is also the clean scent of the field, the spice of victory wine, and the smoke of burning bodies. Ares is and always has been a study in opposites, both animal magnetism and soft, reasonable attraction.

"Yes," you admit, striving for exasperation and hitting nearer to tremulous want. "You do disturb me." 

A large, warm hand grips your hip. You suddenly become aware of the bareness of your skin, the cool damp of you against the warm heat of him. The contact brings a flush to your cheeks. Your body responds as his hand flexes, squeezing; you can't help but search his gaze, wondering, as ever, what he's thinking. 

"I love that you're naked," he says, at once soft and sharp. "Your form pleases me, lady nymph. Your kind are never shy, but you are the only river-sprite I know that dares brave land baring all."

He touches you further, that large, rough hand sliding up the curve of your waist. He spreads his warmth from your hip to your ribcage to your neck, gently exploring. The touch is electric, yet strangely innocent. He is a god admiring Creation. Admiring you.

As before, you allow it— and how could you not? 

Who were you to say no to the attention and affection of a god?

"The men are dying in my waters," you say as his fingertips trace your jaw. "I'll fall ill, Ares."

"You shall not. I shall send another of my kin to cleanse you, as I did before."

You have nothing to say in return. As if sensing this, he kisses you, busying your mouth with the more pressing business of his want. Both of his hands are on you now, one on your neck, one at the swell of your ass; as he pulls you close, you can feel the hot, hard length of him against you, protected only by the thin fabric of his toga. The sensation is heady, and you pride yourself on keeping your feet through the ordeal. 

"Will you let me have you once more?" he asks against your lips. "What say you, my nymph of rage?"

You consider for a moment. Always, he gives you the choice. You know he needn't— he is stronger, more powerful, and could and had easily taken what he wanted before. It makes you wonder if giving you the choice, allowing you to choose him, is a way for him to conquer you. In the end, it doesn't matter. There was only ever one answer. 

"Yes." Your breath comes quick as a calloused thumb brushes over your nipple. "Yes, Lord Ares. I will have you." 

In the end, there is no shame. Even Aphrodite herself had been unable to say no to the wiles of the war god. As conqueror, it was not in his nature to be refused. 

Having gained your assent, Ares does not waste precious time. Instead, he kisses up your neck, to your ear, taking the lobe of it between his teeth and scraping gently. The act sends goosebumps racing down your flesh, and you shiver. Ares kisses lower, down to the hollow of your throat and the plain of your chest, his hands wandering to hardened, sensitive nipple and gently curving breast. He touches you, explores you, holds you like you are precious, and your body opens to him.

"Spread your legs," he says against your neck. "I want to taste you."

So saying, he lowers himself to his knees, bringing himself of a height with your sex. Filthy and impossible, he noses at the apex of your thighs, nudges your legs apart with his hands; it is everything you can do to remain standing as he begins a great and terrible onslaught against your dignity. It is so much. It is not enough. Your hands move to his hair, pulling the soft strands as a long, thick finger finds your entrance, and he groans as he finds that his finger slips easily inside. Still, he does not budge from his task until you're trembling, quaking above him as your orgasm nears— and even then, it is only to look up at you with glistening mouth and fuck-me eyes and say,

"Kneel."

You can do nothing but obey. You kneel before Ares, and he kisses you, letting you taste your own pleasure from his mouth. It's filthy and perverse and everything you've ever wanted as he lowers you gently to the earth, wrapping your legs around his wide hips. You look up at him, awestruck. In this moment, he is soft, beautiful. He is nothing like you would have imagined War to be. 

Ares takes a moment to toss aside his clothing. His sex is even larger than you remember it— or, perhaps his form alters according to his godly will, and he is striving to impress. In any case, your sexes are now aligned— his tip to the very opening of your body— and all that remains is one push before he is fully seated. 

Despite all, you find yourself anxious for that push. 

"Do it," you urge, smothering that feeling. "Fuck me, Ares."

You can tell it pleases him to hear his name from your mouth. Even so, he does not acquiesce immediately, which both frustrates and endears him to you. 

"I'll go slowly," he says. "It is no small thing to fuck a god. I thought you'd have learned that by now."

You have no reply— not when his cockhead is pushing slowly into you, making way for the rest of his large, heavy cock. It is nearly a religious experience, being filled by him. You cry out as he's finally seated deeply within you, and all at once you can no longer tell where you end and he begins. 

"Yes," you tell him as he withdraws to begin another slow thrust. "Yes, yes, yes."

The word becomes a song as he picks up the pace. It is a song of moans and cries and deepest feeling— he kisses you as you keen, and the hot, hard length of him slows to an agonizing pace.

"Are you alright?" he asks, as though you are breakable. "Should I slow down?"

It infuriates you. 

With all your power, you shove at his chest. At first, be doesn't seem to understand, taken aback by your newfound aggression— but eventually, when you use the force of your hips to indicate your desire, he goes easily backwards, landing with a gentle thump on his back so that you can straddle his hips, impaling yourself on his length. Hands braced on the warm softness of his chest, you begin to grind, pushing him ever deeper into you until both of your breaths come heavy and your time is near. 

"You were made to be abed with War," Ares tells you, smiling madly up as you move above him. "Indomitable, you are, and ruthless— I have no doubt that a thousand lives could not separate us."

You barely hear him.

"Lovely creature. I would make you my queen, if I could." His voice pitches upward in a moan of pleasure as you use his body. "I would make you heir to my kingdom of ash and broken bone, would burn worlds for you."

Cogent thought is lost to pleasure, but you feel the meaning of his words. It pushes you closer, so close, so close—

"Come, pretty one," he says, "Awake, destroyer of man. I will catch you if you fall, in this life or the next."

You jerk awake. 

A warm hand rests on your shoulder. You turn, groggy with sleep, and find a pair of shining blue eyes peering into your own. Erwin Smith—your husband and commander— has never looked more handsome than now, with chest bare above pajama pants that fall a little too short at his ankle. 

"Are you alright, love?" he asks you, tender, gentle. "A nightmare?"

The wetness between your legs indicates otherwise. You guide his large, calloused hand there, wordlessly allowing him to feel your answer, and he smiles. 

"In that case, I'm sorry for waking you." He presses a kiss to your temple, a finger pressing into your folds. "You don't get enough downtime as it is."

You hum in agreement and run your hands along the solid, curving lines of his biceps. 

"You could always order me on bed rest, commander," you tease as he shifts, placing himself exactly as Ares had in your dream— between your thighs, your legs wrapped around his hips. 

"If I did that, nothing would ever get done."

"No? Am I that big of a help, then, that the Scouts couldn't function without me?"

"No," Erwin grinned, mischievous, "It's because if I put you on bed rest, I'd never leave your bed."

You smile, then gasp as he presses against you, cock straining against the thin fabric of his pajamas. The feeling is startlingly familiar, and all at once, Ares' words come back to you. 

"You were made to be abed with War. Indomitable, you are, and ruthless— I have no doubt that a thousand lives could not separate us."

You wonder if the dream was entirely that. It felt so raw, so real— and, though Erwin and the Ares of your dream shared little physical similarity, you suspected that they were made of the same parts. Only the paint was different. Ares was bronze and dark where Erwin was pale and blond, but in their hearts— in their dark, violent hearts, capable of more and deeper love than a mortal could imagine— they were the same. They were men made of war, bathed in the blood of innocents.

And they both wanted you. 

"Lay back," you tell your husband, pushing at the soft muscle of his chest. "I want to ride you."

Erwin grins. 

"I thought you'd never ask."

[blingblong55]

Follow orders - John 'Soap' Mactavish NSFW

A/N: soap is one of my favourite man sluts

Based on a request:

*whispers seductively* take it, take the soap collar as request… cause.. what’s stopping you? Horniness never know bounds, Soap has been playing in all of our minds for free 👁️🫦👁️ 😈😈 P/s; fr, please do have proper rest tho!!! 🥺🥺🥺

F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, oral!sex, sub!Soap, Dom!reader, Fem!Dom

A/N: Straight to it. Also, I couldn't find the original request...sorry

You had a collar around him that was attached to a black leash with chains. He looks up at you, hands tied to his back as he humps your foot for any sort of release. You grin as you look down at him, "What, is this not punishment enough for you?" His eyes teary, gag ball around his mouth as he shakes his head. "Please...please I'll be a good boy." his voice muffled by the gag ball. "Tsk tsk, you see, you can't just tease me like that, Johnny. It's not right and right now I am teaching you a lesson." Your hand under his chin. He whimpers, "Please...I'll do anything, just touch me," he pleads once more.

The cock ring being the only source of pleasure he got, not even the humps to your foot were enough. His head now rested on your thigh, eyes pleading but you couldn't and wouldn't budge. If he gave you pleasure, he would cum too and that was not what you wanted right now. So, you made him watch you finger yourself and let the vibrator do its job. Your soft moans, and the way you maintain eye contact with him, all drive him insane. He clearly knew his punishment was cruel this time, never have you ever done this when he behaved in such a way.

Your fingers tease your folds, the vibrator making you get closer to the edge. "This is what you get for being a slut, Johnny." More moans escape your sweet mouth, giving him a much-needed erection. "My mistress, please...please let me touch you." His mouth getting closer to your cunt, the warmth of his breath making you squirm. It was a punishment for him but right now, it felt as if it was your own punishment. And in that second, you gave in. You lean forward, untie his hand and take the gag ball off his mouth. "Eat like the slut you are." You command and he gladfully obeys.

He sucks on your clit, nose buried deep inside, also giving you pleasure. Your hand on his hair, his hands splitting you open. Your thick thighs warm his face, and his tongue fucks you like his own life depended on it. Your grip on him and he looks up, not once stopping from eating you out, "You taste like heaven, R/N." slurping noises can be heard, two fingers inside of your tight hole, making you mewl and smile. He knows you too well at this point. You squirm, your walls clenching on his fingers and he chuckles. "Let go fer me, let me get drunk on your pussy." His voice was like honey, enjoying his now reward for being so patient. Your moans alone earning his tip to get swollen, needing its own form of release but he waits for you, waits to cum with you.

Your juices drip from his mouth to his chin but he continues to finger you, worshipping your cunt like it was his bible. His own cum, leaks from his tip as he watches you flick your nipples or squeeze them, he loves the way you look from his angle. His hands go directly to his tip which still drips cum. "Let me leave my mark on you, my sweet R/N." His fingers now dripping his seed fuck into your pussy. Your sensitive tissue gets painted by his cum, and then he licks it off, pulls you close and spits it inside your mouth. "Taste us both," he whispers and you kiss him, now following his command.

Your hand still gripping the leash of his collar, making him moan and chuckle at the same time. "Oh, mistress, you know how to just keep me on the edge." he kisses you again, your tongues exploring each other, lips intertwined like how it was meant to be.

A/N: Pretend they cuddle after this shit...I just can't write more or my own head will explode

Tags: @liyanahelena @anonymuslydumb @warenai (tagged nasty whores<3)

[13as07]

Flower

(Rock Lee)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Twinvenus]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,574

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Peep me having to look up types of flowers because I ran out of names

I know Kurenai retired when her kid was born but I refuse to believe that cause screw Kishimoto's semi-sexist writing

Gets a little heated in the middle

Nonsexual shower scene

———————————————————————

"My Petunia!" Rock's voice rings out, filling the field with his voice. Kiba lets out a long sigh that quickly melts into a groan. He's not the biggest fan of Lee, the reason why is still unknown. However, I think it's just our clan's territorial behaviors shining through. I get a little defensive when people flock to him too.

"Over here, Rocky!" I call, throwing my hand up to wave it around in hopes he'll see it.

Akamaru jumps up from his sunbathing spot, running circles around Kiba and me as he barks his snout off. My dog, Gekko, does the same, chasing after Akamaru in a playful game of tag. When he catches Akamaru, he flips around, running in the opposite direction as Kiba'a dog chases.

When Rock gets closer, Kiba lets out an exaggerated sigh, and Gekko beelines for Lee. Akamaru follows, the two dogs now attempting to pounce on the Shinobi. "Sunflower, call off the dogs!" He whines, trying to escape the ball of fuzz that keeps following him around. "Rose! Kiba!"

I let out a whistle, throwing my hands up again with my palms facing the dogs. They do as the signal suggests, racing forward to press their noses against my hands. "Who's a good boy?" I praise them, rubbing their snouts as I take turns littering them with kisses. "Are you a good boy Aka? Yes, you are! How about you? Are you a good boy too Ge-Ge? Yes, Sir."

The dogs settle down, Gekko resting his head in my lap as Akamaru goes to bother his owner. "You're home early," I mutter, leaning backward to look at Lee as I scratch my dog's ears. "I didn't think you'd be home for a few more days."

"My mission ended early so I figured we could celebrate!" Rocky cheers, falling into his usual placement. His hands cup my neck, his wraps rubbing against my throat as he massages it. Lee's head dips, his hair flapping around in its cute way as he looks down at me. "What time would work best for you, my Iris?"

"Kiba and I have to meet up with Kurenai-Sensei in about an hour. We're usually done training by five-thirty."

"Five-thirty it is!" Lee cheers, brushing kisses across the red markings of my cheeks.

Kiba rolls off his back, fake gagging as he does so. "I'll need to shower afterward, Rocky. How about six-thirty? It'll give me an hour to shower and look nice," I giggle out, Gekko jumping up to cover me in kisses too. It's funny how much competition Rock and my dog think they have over my attention.

"Six-thirty, and not a minute later!" He cheers again, littering my nose in kisses. "We'll go get some good curry and then go for a walk. Oh! Maybe you can even spend the night!"

"I'll think about it," I say the words coming out as a laugh. I let my eyes flutter closed, soaking in the feeling of his lips against my face and his nimble fingers caressing my neck. "But, it'll probably be yes."

"Yes," he mumbles under his breath, joy coating the single word. "All right, I'll let you be, Daisy."

Three, four, five kisses are pecked on my lips before Lee drops his hold on me. A huge smile is on his face as he pulls away. He pats Gekko's head before he starts walking away, waving at me the whole way.

"Gross, disgusting, I'm going to throw up my lunch," Kiba grumbles, sitting upright. "You two are gross."

"You're just jealous," I tease, knocking my fist into his shoulder.

He teases back, dramatically falling back to the ground as he holds his arm. "Oh no, you broke it. You broke my shoulder. Tell Kurenai-Sensei I can't train today."

"You're such a baby," I giggle out, standing up and dusting myself off. The dogs trail after me, a groaning Kiba making up the butt end of the pack per usual.

————————————

My focus is on Lee's mirror I'm kneeling in front of, sights set on applying my makeup. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see Rock sitting criss-crossed in my bed, his eyes jumping between me and my sketchbook I'm letting him flip through.

"Marigold?"

"Rocky?" I call back, rubbing my brush over my cheeks again. My blush is too pink and I can't get it to blend out for the life of me.

"I saw the prettiest field on my last mission." I hum in acknowledgment, finally making progress on my blending. "I think when we get home you should sketch it for me since I didn't get to take a picture of it."

"I can do that for you," I mutter, letting my eyes flicker up. Lee has left the bed and is now standing behind me, my book hanging from the fingertips of his right hand. His left hand jumps up, cupping my throat again today.

I managed to talk him out of his outfit. The usual green is still present, this time as a sweatshirt with his Shinobi tag hanging out the pocket of the workout shorts he chose to wear. Rock is a pretty boy, and he definitely works his body suit but he looks so much better in his day-to-day clothes. Despite the change-up, his hands are still wrapped up in his signature bandages.

Said bandages rub against my neck again, toying with my skin as Lee's big eyes focus on me in the mirror. His eyes remind me of a stuffed animal, so round and soft. I could melt away in them.

My eyes trail over him as his eyes trail over me. I like it when Rock wears shorts, it shows off some of the 'sleep build' he has.

As if he can read my thoughts, Lee shifts forward, tapping his knees against my back. "Are you ready to go, Lavender?"

I hum a yes, letting my eyes trail over him again. "You're hot, you know that Rocky?"

"Oh, well, thank you, Blue Bell," He races out, one hand tightening around my sketchbook as the other one jumps off of me to scratch the back of his head. His cheeks are a bright red as he glances away from me, his flusteredness evident in the darker red his face gets. "You're very pretty too. Just cause you are, not because of your makeup. Though your makeup is pretty too and I appreciate your efforts to look nice for me. I just want you to know that I don't think you're not pretty without it or that I don't think your makeup is nice. I just - "

"I know, Lee," I cut him off, climbing to my feet as the man goes on a ramble. "I'm glad you think I'm pretty." I turn around so we're face-to-face, letting my hands snake into the pocket of his hoody. Rocky's hands fall to my hips, my sketchbook between his hand and my side on one side. "Can I have a kiss?" I ask, leaning forward so I'm pressed against him.

"Of course, Tulip!" He answers, his face lighting up at my question. His free hand jumps up, cupping the back of my neck as his head dips. Lee's lips brush against mine, soft and slow like always. It melts me how much time and care he takes when kissing me. It's always kisses that make my knees weak.

Rocky's hold on me tightens, head tilting to the side a bit as he keeps his lips gentle. My mouth parts slightly, testing to see what it is he wants. His tongue pokes out, rubbing against my bottom lip before disappearing. It pokes out again, running over my own this time. He tastes like a honey-crisp apple, which isn't a surprise. Lee insists having an apple for breakfast helps his immune system.

His head tilts again, giving him more space to trail his tongue around my mouth. The moment doesn't last long though, Lee pulls back, hand still present as he tugs himself away from me. A huge smile is set on his face, cheeks dusted pink again and mouth stained from my lipstick. "Thank you, Pansy."

"For what?" I ask, leaning forward in search of another kiss.

Lee backs away, cheeriness still lingering off of him as he smiles down at me. "For our kiss. I like kisses like that." The second half is almost whispered, his cheek darkening as he looks away from me. "Anyway," Rock cheers, hand moving to toy with my hair. "Are you ready to go?"

"Ya, we should probably clean my lipstick off of you first," I mumble, sliding my hands out of his pocket. I let them dance up his chest before dangling over his shoulders, crossing them to try and keep him in place. "I want another kiss first though."

Rocky shifts in my hold, cheeks flaring again as his eyes jump around. "We should eat before we... do anything else."

I hum in agreement, tightening my arms around him as I lean against him again. "We won't do anything until after dinner," I murmur, crashing my lips against his.

Lee gives in, tongue poking my lips instantly. My head tilts, mouth parting to give him what he wants. His apple taste slides into my mouth again, the sound of my sketchbook tumbling to the ground as his grip tightens. "Daffodil," Rocky mutters, tugging me backward as he sucks in a breath.

"Rock," I mutter back, my hands dancing across his shoulders.

He bumps into the bed, falling into a sitting position as I shift myself between his knees. Lee's hands fall to the back of my knees, gripping them to tug me up, settling them next to his hips. "We should... we need to get going," He stumbles out, lips pressed against mine again.

"We should get going," I echo, letting our kisses continue for another beat before I pull away. "But first, let's clean you up and fix my lipstick."

                     ————————————

Rocky's hands dance under my shirt, toying with the area just above my belly button as I struggle to focus enough to slide his keys into the lock of his door. His nose is buried into my hair, mouth focused on sucking softly on my skin. "Snowdrop?" He mutters into my skin, a single hand leaving my stomach to crawl across my arm.

His fingers wrap around mine, helping me shove the key into the lock and turn it. We stumble into the house, courtesy of our previous pressed-up position in the door. Lee's hands jump to my waist, helping me stay on my feet. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say, clinging to his wrists with my shirt disrupting our connection. "Are you good?"

"I'm good," he answers, using his hold on me to pick me up. I'm carried into his room kisses brushed to my clothed shoulders as he walks around. Once we're in his room, I'm settled on his bed before his attention switches away from me.

"Rocky," I whine, clinging to his arms that are trying to tug away from me.

"My Morning Glory," he coos, bending down to peck my lips. A few more kisses are peppered to my lips before Lee - successfully - pulls away from me. "Let me get my evening workout in and shower. Then I'm all yours."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Rock giggles, coating my cheeks in kisses before he leaves me alone in the bed. The noise of him getting his stuff out fills the room as I scan for my sketchbook. It's still discarded on the ground from earlier, standing out against the tan carpet of Lee's room.

Reluctantly I climb out of bed, collecting my art book and digging through my overnight bag for my drawing pencils. "Hey, Rock?"

"Hey, Poppy?" He calls back, tugging off his hoodie. Rocky put on a t-shirt, probably one Naruto bought him because of the graphic in it, gracing me with the sight of his defined form.

"What did that field you were talking about look like?" Lee jumps into his explanation, doing his best to remember all the details as he starts his sets of sit-ups.

     I half listen to his speech, my eyes trailing over his shirt. My cheeks heat up as I watch the way his muscles shift with his movements, most notably the way his arms and shoulders move. "Did you hear me, Orchid?" Lee asks, staying seated with his arms still pressed to his head.

     "Hmm? Ya, ya I heard you. I'm just... envisioning it," I mutter, snapping my sketchbook open. "Do you want it black and white or colored?"

     "Black and white is fine," Rock answers, slowly moving back down to his laying position.

     My eyes scan over the blank sheet, reversing Lee's words as I plan out my attack on the paper. My focus stays on my sketch, quickly laying out the plan so I have something to go off of.

     By the time my very rough outline is laid out, Lee is shuffling around again. My eyes flicker up on occasion, watching him situate his pull-up bar in the door frame. What little focus I have is gone when he jumps up, clinging to the bar stuck to the door.

     My mind wanders just as much as my eyes do, taking in the sight of his ridden-up shirt. They jump around from his stomach to his arms, back down to his exposed v-line. "Rocky?"

     "Hydrangea?" He huffs out, his eyes flickering to me before he focuses on his breathing again.

     "We should go take a shower... right now."

     "It's... just... a light... workout," Lee counters, pulling himself up and letting out a huff of air between each word. "I'll be done soon," he tells me, letting himself hang for a beat before he rolls into another set. "Wait we?" He asks, letting himself hang again after a few pull-ups.

     "Yes, we," I mumble, falsely focusing on my outline. "I want to take a shower with you if you want."

     "Ya, yep. Ya, that... I would like that," Rock stumbles out, the pinkness of his cheeks not just from his workout anymore. "If you would like that."

     "If I didn't like it I wouldn't have asked," I tell him, my focus actually on my sketch now as a smile crosses my face. What a goofball of a man. A sweet, kind, easily flustered, man.

                     ————————————

     Lee is kneeling in front of me, his eyes tracing the lines I've laid on the image I'm working on for him. Despite the constant distraction, I've made pretty good progress on the art piece.

     "Buttercup?"

     "Rocky?" I ask back, glancing at him before settling on my picture again.

     He stays quiet, still balled up as he kneels in front of me, eyes on the same thing mine are on. "I'm done working out."

     "Okay."

     "... I'm going to go shower now."

     "Okay."

     I can hear Lee's unasked question just as much as I can feel his eyes on my face. Nervousness waves off of him as he burns holes into me. His balled up-ness increasing as if shrinking himself will help his nerves. 

     "Hollyhock?"

     "I'm starting to think you're just making flowers up," I tease, setting my notebook down and focusing on Rocky.

     "No I'm not," he tells me, a soft smile on his face as he shakes his head, Lee's bangs skirting across his face as he moves. "I would... I'm done working out... and while I was working you said..." Lee's bushy eyebrows press together as he struggles over his words, face scrunching up as he looks at me.

     "I said what, Rock?" I ask, leaning forward to further tempt the words out of him. The tip of my nose is pressed against his, eyes locked on his obnoxiously round ones as I wait for the answer.

     "Ya... um...." Lee puffs his cheeks before letting out a long, slow breath, his cheeks quickly getting dusted again as he tries to work the words out. "You said... that we should... that, that we... shower?"

     "Shower," I repeat, nodding my head in agreement before I finish leaning forward. I brush my lips against a reddened Rock before climbing to my feet, set on grabbing the things I need for our shower.

     Rocky follows me around the room, the lost puppy-dog look in his eyes as he trails after me. He stays close but still makes sure there's space between us as if I'll change my mind if he gets too close. When I head towards the bathroom, I can sense Lee almost buzzing behind me.

     I stop in my tracks, hand still on the knob of the door. He bumps into me from my sudden stop, accidentally pushing me against the door as his hands fall to my hips. "Rocky?"

     "Honeysuckle?"

     "Are you sure you're okay with this? You seem nervous."

     "Ya, I'm just... I'm not used to seeing you naked in the light. We've only..." Rock's cheeks puff out, his blood rushing to them once again, bringing color to his skin. "... in the dark. I'm just nervous about you seeing me... and super excited to see you, of course! You're so pretty, I can't wait to see you like... that."

     "I'm excited too, Rock," I coo, gently pushing us off the wall. He calms down a bit, still buzzing but slightly less nervous as I open the bathroom door.

     Once we're in the bathroom I focus on myself, peeling off my clothes and using the big mirror to clean off my makeup. As I prep for the shower, I can hear Lee moving around the small space. The sound of his clothes shifting off, the shower being turned on, and him pacing as he waits for me to finish getting undressed.

     When I'm prepared, I turn towards the man waiting by the shower for me. I keep my eyes on his face, trying my best to keep Rock calm as I smile at him. A nervous smile is on his face, his eyes locked on me as well. "So... um... shower?" He asks, eyes glancing down my body before he panics. Lee turns away from me, cheeks pink and puffed out again as he focuses on testing the temperature of the water.

     I move slowly, gently laying my hand on his bare shoulder as I step over the edge of the bed, letting the water fall over my body as I climb in. I can feel his eyes jumping around me as I soak my hair in the water, the streams coating my body as I soak in the heat of it. "You are beautiful, Violet. The most beautiful person I have ever seen."

     "Thank you, Rock. You're very handsome too," I compliment back, letting my eyes scan down his body quickly before settling them on his face again. "Are you going to get in with me?"

     "Oh! Ya, it's not much of a shower together if we're not together, huh?" He asks, rubbing his neck as his eyes skirt around the space of the tub. Lee is as red as a rose petal by the time his focus settles on me again. "Okay, I'm getting in now."

     "Take your time," I tell him, leaning forward to grab his shampoo bottle.

     Rocky stands outside of the shower for another beat or two before he climbs in, his hands jumpy as they rest on my waist. "You are beautiful, I told you that right?"

     "Yes, you did," I remind him, letting the shampoo rest in my hair as my hands jump up to his bowl cut. I gently dip Lee's head down, playing with the strands as the water soaks into them.

     His arms tighten around me, shifting me an inch or two closer, but not enough for me to be pressed against him. Rocky's breaths are uneven as he focuses on my chest, not having much room to look anywhere else as I work on washing his hair. "Your... um... chest is very luscious."

     "I'm glad you think so," I answer, keeping my fingertips gentle as I work the soap out of his hair. "Rocky?"

     "Anemone?"

     "I need you to move backward a bit so I can rinse my hair too."

     "Oh... Oh! Right, of course!" He almost shouts, his hands shaky as he slides them up my sides a bit. Rock changes his mind, moving them back to my waist as he slowly moves backward, gently pulling me forward so I can rinse my hair. "Crocus?"

     "Yes?" I hum, flipping my head back out once I'm sure all the soap is out of my hair.

     "I want to touch you."

     "Then touch me. I'm alright with it, Rocky. You can touch me wherever you want."

     "Really?"

     "Really," I repeat, resting my hands on his shoulders. I dip forward, brushing a soft kiss to his lips before I turn back to finish my shower.

     A small noise escapes Lee, his fingers tightening on my waist for a second. Once he settles himself down, his hands slowly start to wander, pawing at different parts of me. They play with my waist, jumping to my arms before falling to my thighs. They ghost over my chest, fingertips shaky before he settles on my legs again. "You are the prettiest flower in the world."

     "And you're the hottest workout nut in the world."

     "Really?"

     "Really."

[daddy-suguru]

Hi 💕 thank you for tagging me on your 9k event and congrats 🥰!!! I’m gonna go with Suguru + “I want to have my way with you” + a lil bit of overstim kink

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs | established relationship (dating), high on molly and bud together, cock sucking, overstimulation, begging, safe word isn't used by suguru, drinking his cum, hints at the previous round

sᴜɢᴀʀ’s ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇs |thank you it's exciting to reach 9k, i love getting to write and share my works with so so many lovely people

Dragging your tongue along the bottom of Suguru's cock. As he grabs his long, pitch-black hair, tugging on his locks. While he ruts his hips up, thrusting half of his cock into your mouth.

Gagging around him as you try to relax your throat. As you twist your fist down the rest of his cock. Till you suppress the urge to gag, slipping him deeper into your throat. Something you've had plenty of practice in doing so over the past three years.

Every loud raspy groan, as he looks down at you with bloodshot eyes, watching you suck him off. As his groans of "Tooomuch! Don't, fuck! Don't stop sucking, you feel so good baby girl. Good fucking girl making cum in your mouth after spilling on your pretty tits." Get louder before thick warm cum spurts into your mouth. Which marks the second time he's cummed since taking the molly.

Rubbing your clit, eager to cum again. As your clit twitches a little from too much attention. Yet you want to sit on Suguru's handsome face and drown him. While his nose rubs your clit.

You had lost count of how many times Suguru had made you cum. Starting with him fingering you throughout the movie. As relax into each other's touch, letting the rising high wash over you.

Suguru's moans slip into his words, "Just because I cummed nng fuck! It's your mouth pretty! feels so nngg! We aren't taking a break yet sweet mama. I want to have my way with you. I can't get enough of you and my pretty princess pussy." Suguru had already taken his time, kissing almost every part of your body. Before kissing either one of your lips.

Leaving your pussy for last, since he wanted to take his time eating you out till you squirted on his tongue. The heavy exhaustion that would come with cumming so hard is brushed aside by the excitement of the tingling high.

The drug in his and your's bodies causes the natural craving you have for each other to grow into desperate neediness. Fixating on each other, unable to focus on anything else but each other by the time the movie finished.

Getting just as high off the pleasure of groping, kissing, and grinding against each other. As you are the molly and bud.

Groaning around him, keeping your slow bobbing pace. While he trembles, jerking his hips. As he slips his hand out of his hair, grabbing a fistful of the blanket. As you take as much of Suguru's cock as you can deep into your throat. Before slowly slipping Suguru out of your mouth with a loud pop, his cock falls onto his stomach with a heavy smack.

Breathing heavily as he collects himself from cumming so hard in your mouth. You keep rubbing your clit building the taunt tension between your legs. Willing it to snap and give you another mind-numb orgasmic peak.

Trailing your kisses up the deep line of Suguru's abs, to his pecs. Where you take a moment to suck on his nipples. Rutting your hips on his thigh, which he flexes beneath you. The hardness of his muscles feels better than your fingers.

Counting your path of kisses up Suguru's neck, along his jawline before pressing your lips to his. And the moment he parts his lips, you slip your tongue into his mouth. Only for Suguru to quickly overpower you.

m.list

Grabbing your hips, guiding your "I can't get enough of your soft tongue, wet pussy, and beautiful body. Not only are you stunning but the way you make me feel, " he kisses you again, "The way you know me so well, looking after me with such understanding, patience, and care." Grabbing his half-soft cock, rubbing the warm tip on your clit.

Suguru continues, "I want to see you walk down the aisle in a white dress made just for you. I've been thinking about it, and we can still do the dinner I planned. I can't hold the question back any longer, marry me, my love." He reaches into the bedside drawer.

Pulling out a book and opening it to show it's hallowed out. With a small black box in the middle. He opens to show an engagement ring with your favorite stone surrounded by little white diamonds on a silver band.

M.list

[hangmatts]

matt has a surprise for jack.

[ ficlet. nsfw. also on ao3!]

—

tags: trans matt, bondage, slight use of makeshift gags, mommy kink

—

“Go sit on the bed. I have a surprise for you.” Matt said as soon as they walked into their hotel room.

Jack was confused but didn’t ask any questions. He went and sat on the bed. Matt went to the bathroom to change. Matt opened the door, sticking his head out.

“Close your eyes. No peeking!”

“Okay.” Jack closed his eyes shut.

Matt walked in front of Jack, smoothing out his shirt to make sure it was perfect.

“Now you can look.” Matt said.

Jack opened his eyes. He looked at Matt, a small smile painting his face. Matt was wearing Jack’s merch. It was oversized on him. Matt must’ve took it from Jack’s closet when he wasn’t looking.

“Is this your surprise?” Jack asked.

“Do you like it?”

“I always like you in my merch.” Jack reached his hands out to rest on Matt’s upper thighs.

He moved his hands to be under the shirt. His thumb brushed over a lace fabric. He looked up at Matt, furrowing his brows.

“Can I? Please?” Jack asked. He moved his hands to the hem of the shirt.

“Go ahead.” Matt nodded.

Jack took off Matt’s shirt, revealing a lacy black lingerie set.

“Fuck.” Jack whispered. His hands traveled to feel up Matt’s entire body.

Jack stood up from the bed to be level with him. Matt stepped back when Jack leaned in for a kiss. Jack tilted his head in confusion.

“This is for you.” Matt gestured to his outfit. “But, I’m in charge. You know that.”

Jack watched as Matt walked over to his suitcase to grab something out.

“And since you lost, you need to have some sort of punishment. Go lay down.”

—

Jack laid on the bed. He took his shirt off and tossed it aside. He moved his hands up against the headboard. He knew what Matt wanted to do. He knew what to expect.

Matt got on his knees right next to him. He looked at Jack’s hands and smiled at the thought of Jack knowing what to do.

“Good boy.” he patted Jack’s cheek.

Jack let out a whimper in response.

Matt tied his hands up to the headboard. “Good?” He asked while taking in the sight.

“Yeah, good.” Jack replied.

Matt immediately leaned down, roughly kissing Jack. Jack opened his mouth. Matt took the invite, slipping his tongue in. He reached down to palm Jack through his jeans. When Jack went to get more out of the kiss, Matt pulled back. Jack whined at the loss.

“Please??” Jack moved his wrists.

“Please what, baby?” Matt asked, knowing the exact headspace Jack was in.

“Please, Mommy? Need you.” Jack’s eyes were wide and pleading.

“Good boy.” Matt placed a few more soft kisses on Jack’s lips.

He moved his hand down to unbutton Jack’s pants. He moved down to take off the pants and boxers in one swift movement. Matt licked his lips at the sight of Jack.

Matt slowly removed his panties and set them on the bed. He straddled Jack, grabbing his dick and slowly sinking down on it. He sat for a moment to let both of them adjust.

“Can you be quiet for me?” Matt asked.

Jack nodded.

“That’s not a proper answer.”

“I’ll be quiet, Mommy. Promise!”

“There you go. Such a good boy for me.”

Matt slowly started moving up and down. Jack let out a quiet moan at the movement. Matt’s hands found their way up to Jack’s chest, using it as leverage. He started picking up the pace as he got used to it.

“Fuck.” Jack moaned, his head gently thrown back. “You feel s-so-soo good, Mommy.”

“I know, baby. You’re so good, but remember how I told you to be quiet?” Matt watched as Jack nodded in agreement.

Matt squeezed Jack’s chest, causing a small moan to escape from Jack. Matt let it slide this one time. He leaned down to kiss Jack’s lips. He slowly trailed kisses down to Jack’s neck. He made sure to take his time marking up every area. When he gently bit at Jack’s neck, Jack let out a loud moan.

Matt pulled back. “I tell you to do one thing and you can’t even do it?”

“No, I can- I just wasn’t expecting-” Jack was cut off by Matt placing his finger on his lips.

“You know what?” Matt reached back to grab his panties. “Since you can’t be quiet, I guess I have to make you be quiet.”

Matt balled up his panties, putting them in Jack’s mouth to act as a gag. Jack let out a muffled moan. He didn’t expect to be turned on by something like this.

“You gonna be quiet now?”

Jack nodded.

Matt went back to the fast pace they both needed. Jack was significantly quieter now. Matt let out small moans here and there. He could feel himself getting close. He heard Jack’s muffled whine and spoke up.

“Are you close, baby?” Matt asked.

Jack shook his head as fast as he could. Matt removed his makeshift gag to let Jack talk.

“Please? I’m so close, can I?”

Matt moved closer to make sure their lips were inches apart.

“Go ahead.” He whispered before crashing his lips against Jack’s.

Matt moaned in Jack’s mouth as he felt Jack finish inside him. Matt finished right after, placing a few more small kisses on Jack.

—

Matt moved off of Jack before reaching up to untie him. He grabbed Jack’s wrist, placing a gentle kiss on each one.

“My sweet boy.” Matt placed a hand on Jack’s cheek. Jack melted into it. “You did such a good job. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

Matt smiled and nodded. He plopped down next to Jack, burying his face in Jack’s neck. Jack wrapped his arm around Matt to pull him close. He leaned down to kiss Matt’s forehead before falling asleep.

[mars-ipan]

I'll be honest I was just compiling the list in a Starbucks drive thru. So all that was from memory.

I was mostly thinking of things that are through a possessiveness perspective. You are totally someone that would find (theoretical) jealousy hot. So that's why alot of it had something to do with leaving a mark.

For example I said impact play as a broad term. Something to cover not just spanking but whips and paddles too. Something so it's less about the pain it brings and more about how in the aftermath there would be lasting marks. Like a mark from a paddle that says "Property of x".

Also I KNEW I should've added face-fucking you oral maniac(pos). I just stopped myself cause I was convinced that I was just projecting there. Now I feel that if you were in a subby mood you'd be pretty into the idea of someone having their head just grasped and manhandled to get the other off.

And finally to explain the piercings thing cause I was pretty proud of that. It was mainly inspired by this oneshot manga I had read. It was about a guy(A for convenience) falling for this other guy(B for convenience) who had multiple piercings. As they hook up and get closer A gets more into B's piercings, eventually getting a tongue piercing of his own out of interest. They start dating and then it's eventually revealed why B has so many. It's revealed that B had let himself get pierced by each one of his exes as a form of possession. A is taken aback but B offers him to do something similar. B offers the idea that A "rewrites" the piercings by making them wider, and adds one more to truely claim him. B does this and by A's suggestion, gives him a Prince Albert piercing.

So with that explanation I can see you being into piercings as like a more lasting version of collaring. Anyways this was fun, hope you enjoy(ed) your yaoi(dnd) time. I'll add my anon tag as a surprise reveal since I frequent your confession blog.

=hypno anon

HYPNO OMG HIIIII . HELLO :3 you read me pretty well!!!

yeahhhh fantasy pretend jealousy is hottt. you got me. ough to have a partner and do or say something that has them dragging you away and growling in your ear that you're theirs, not anyone else's. and then proving it.... dreamy sigh <3

paddles aren't really my thing (too "corporal punishment" for me) but the idea of a mark that says "property of x..." yes that is hot. scratch it into someone's skin with the nails :] yeaghsgh

"oral maniac" is one of the funniest things i've ever been called and i will wear it like a badge of honor. if i'm not meant to put my mouth on everything then WHY is the mouth a home to so many senses. hm. taste smell AND touch. just saying. also i will chew on Anything idgaf. i actually have a really bad gag reflex so the idea of actually participating in facefucking is. um. not great for me. i don't like throwing up lmao. BUT ! i do love to read a good facefucking. i have read some INCREDIBLE fanfiction with facefucking. OUGH that shit goes hard

that piercing story is nuts. crazy. Hello !!! a prince albert of all things to choose is crazyyyyy. owie. but also woagh what a fucking symbol. symbols of possession.... grraggh

and yes i am enjoying my yaoi time. currently still in yaoi time actually ^-^ the rest of my party has been kidnapped but fortune got lucky and got to... erm... get lucky. instead. gay sex #win. oh i think they're cutting back to me soon gtg :3

[eywamygoddesswrites]

— 𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷, 𝓼𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 — (lo'ak x gn!reader, lo'ak x tsireya)

pairing: lo'ak x gn!omatikaya!reader , lo'ak x tsireya

tags: angst, toxic, make-ups and break-ups,

warnings: lowercase intended, toxic relationship, anger, swearing, self-sabotage, mentions of becoming mates, y/n is just toxic as hell

a/n: characters are aged up! the theme of this fic will be heavy and for anyone who is going through something, please PLEASE don't read this as it might worsen your state. you are loved, you are heard, and you are not alone.

i also don't do character x character as a request but if it deems needed for the story, i will do said trope

word count: 1.5k

+ gif not mine. ctto.

lo'ak and y/n have this complicated relationship with one another. on one hand, it can be seen as teenage love growing into something more and something special as they age. but on the other hand, it can also be seen as something toxic where teens don't know what the fuck they got themselves into and ate more than they can chew.

it was the type of relationship where they got together on and off. lo'ak had always let his emotions get the best of him and always had his insecurities take over him whenever he saw y/n interact with other na'vi's. y/n was no different from lo'ak. they were toxic in a way where they gaslight lo'ak and made him dependable on them.

even with this toxicity between the two, they somehow worked even when they shouldn't.

after years of the constant cycle of making up and breaking up, sky people came back and attacked the forest, leaving the omatikaya vulnerable to another war.

y/n was one of the injured during the attack and was currently being treated in mo’at’s tent. while being treated, they heard the toruk makto’s voice boom at his sons, causing y/n to snort at how this cycle between the father and sons never changed. “like father, like son.” they said to no one in particular.

neteyam came into the tent with kiri, cuts, and bruises were seen on his figure. y/n stood up from where they sat and thank the tsahik before leaving the tent. too many sully’s in one place just makes the na’vi gag.

right in front of the tent stood lo’ak, shocked painting his face on the figure of their lover- if he can call them his lover at this point. “what the hell happened to you? you should’ve gone somewhere safe you skxawng.” lo’ak scoffs and began checking if y/n had other marks that his grandmother wasn’t able to see but y/n shoves him away before he could.

“somewhere safe?!?” y/n looked at lo’ak like he was the dumbest of the dumb in pandora. “i had to help my little sister find a place to be safe in but we were ATTACKED in the process! i’m ‘sorry’ if i wanted my only living family SAFE from the shit your family brought to this place!” they hissed at lo’ak before leaving the na’vi seething in anger. he followed them and grabbed their arm with force, most likely leaving a bruise the following day.

“it’s not my dad’s fault these demons come back because of their selfishness. but don’t you fucking dare blame me and my whole family for this. we protect the people just as the rest of you.” he hissed at the angry na’vi before shoving them away.

y/n stares at lo’ak with anger and hate. “i should’ve never given a freak like you a chance in love. you don’t DESERVE an ounce.” with this, y/n left lo’ak standing on his self-hatred. 

of course, he doesn’t. he knows that already. they didn’t have to reinforce and shove it on his face. “whole ass bitch.”  he mutters before going back to his siblings.

before the sully’s ride their ikran to leave the forest, the omatikaya watches the family that protected their homes for so long. it was a sad event but it must be done in order to secure the majority’s safety.

y/n watched from afar, glad that this family will leave after so many years. they broke up with lo’ak a day before and ensured the na’vi that they will never get back together after this.

“find your own mate that will put up with your shitty attitude.” y/n says before turning their back on lo’ak.

“i hope no one gives you a chance for your bitch attitude! no na’vi should go through your toxicity!” lo’ak shouted at the figure leaving him before he started punching the nearest tree, not minding the pain he was feeling.

just as lo’ak mounted his ikran, his gaze going up and meeting with y/n’s gaze. he narrowed his eyes before taking off behind neteyam and kiri.

being welcomed by the metkayina was something the sully’s should work for and for safety, they should comply. even after they were seen as demons by the tsahik, they will do what needs to be done.

lo’ak couldn’t focus on their training to breath underwater because of what happened a few days ago. the break up was fresh in his mind and despite feeling pain, he mostly felt anger towards y’n. he didn’t do anything to them so why was he treated that way? it was their fault their life was shit. it was their fault their parents are dead. it was their faul—

“lo’ak? are you still with us?” tsireya’s soft voice took him out of his thoughts. her round eyes looking at him with concern, no malice seen. lo’ak shook his head before swimming back to shore. “i’m not feeling well. i’ll go back to the mauri.” he simply said, not waiting for any replies from the rest.

he didn’t go to their mauri, instead walking aimlessly as he kicks the sand out of anger. he aimed his feelings toward y/n despite the na’vi not being present in any way.

he settled by a big rock and lay on the of it, watching the sunset. “what did i do wrong?” he covers his eyes with his arm and sighs heavily.

a few minutes passed before he hears footsteps coming closer. he looks up to see tsireya. he couldn’t deny that he saw her as a pretty na’vi. wait, no, no, y/n will get angry- wait… y/n is not here. he can see anyone as pretty without being tormented on and feeling guilty for thinking such.

tsireya sat beside him, looking beyond the glimmering ocean. the eclipse has set before them as stars showed in the sky.

“what’s troubling you, lo’ak?” tsireya asks before looking at lo’ak. the forest na’vi’s eyes trembled as he remembers his time with his ex. maybe it was actually his fault that y/n treated him that way. if only he was more obedient then maybe y/n was with him to this day. why should he ruin everything he has in his life–

“lo’ak.” tsireya’s voice removed him from his thoughts once again. lo’ak finally looked at tsireya and felt his tears fall down his face. her features soften as she pulled him into a hug he had been longing for a while. she whispered sweet nothings to his ear as she runs her hand through his braids. no sound left his mouth but the tears that ran down his face speaks many stories.

maybe… maybe he has a new opportunity with tsireya. maybe this might be a new chance that eywa has given him.

after months and months of comfort and courting, lo’ak can proudly call tsireya his girlfriend. his sun. his love. tsireya knew of what he had gone through back in the forest and she made it her priority to help him heal from his past. she just hopes he fully lets her in his heart.

the first few months of the two being official, it was bliss. lo’ak felt like he could die a happy man just to keep this comfort. he didn’t want the happiness to fade if they do continue on.

the longer the two stayed together, the more his toxicity seeped out of the damn he had built. the same where he would constantly ask tsireya who were the guys she talked with, the same where he would keep her from doing her tasks as the next tsahik, and the same where he would limit and forbid tsireya from meeting anyone else.

at first, tsireya didn’t mind. maybe lo’ak was just cautious because of his previous relationship? don’t worry! she understands and will comply with his wishes. but the more time passed and his actions worsened, she thought, ‘maybe it’s something with me.’ don’t worry! i’ll just slowly pull away from my friends and spend more time with lo’ak to ease his mind.

ao’nung, neteyam, and kiri saw this and began to worry. ao’nung could see that his sister was beginning to be skittish around him and his friends. he missed hanging out with her and for her to spend time with lo’ak is just laughable. neteyam and kiri on the other hand can see that the cycle of y/n and lo’ak began to show in his new relationship with tsireya.

after neteyam’s death, everything just fell apart. lo’ak was worse than he was before they came to the reef.

his relationship with tsireya disintegrated as they broke up and made up. although, he didn’t want to let her go because who will understand him? only she can and he doesn’t care if they break up. they can easily fix it and get back together.

tsireya, oh poor tsireya, she couldn’t just leave him. it’s unfair to him and he was the first na’vi she truly loved. of course, she will accept him no matter how many times they break up. maybe if they mated, he will fully change his ways and learn to love her without having to separate.

feels like a brand new person (but you’ll make the same old mistakes)

i don’t care, i’m in love (stop before it’s too late)

[thetoaddaddy]

😫 my muse has woken up sweating and screaming after a nightmare and yours can’t console them

But!

🔁

This got dark real quick. Putting under a read more. Look at the tags for warnings of the content.

Water.

It surrounded him.

He couldn't breathe. It filled his lunges when he gasped, flooding his mouth and filling his nose. His limbs worked tirelessly. Up! Where the fuck was up?! Opening his eyes Jiraiya looked frantically to find his escape.

There is no up. No glittering sun to guide him. No shine of the silver moon to show him the way. It was dark. It was....

It wasn't water.

The metallic taste of blood overwhelmed his taste. He gagged. He thrashed. Shadows float by slowly, limply. The sounds of his panic couldn't be more than a wet muffle.

He was drowning in the blood of his friends. Their bodies floating by. Pale. Lifeless. Cut up, gutted and falling apart. Dead. Dead and he can't save them. Dead and he failed them!

A hand shot forward and wrapped around his throat. What little air he had was stolen. He stared. He was still. The main path of Pain gripping his throat. Unbearable pain as his torso was speared through the back several times. He was bleeding into this ever growing ocean.

They disappeared from his sight. They gripped his body instead. Nails racking at his back. Fingers pulling on his hair. They yanked. Deeper. Never ending. No escaping. They demand he bleed out with him.

"You should have died a long time ago."

Their voices whisper in his ears, echoing in his mind. Their cold lips caressing his ears. They whisper. They scream. They're furious.

"You're the reason we died." "I'll never forgive you."

"Why didn't you just die?" "You're too scared to."

"You don't deserve to live." "You did nothing with your life." “Coward.”

"You deserve nothing." "You're a waste of space."

"No one loves you, sensei. No one ever loved you." "Do something worth while for once." "I hate you."

"Give up." "Die." "Join us." "Bleed with us. Bleed for us." "We'll never let your soul rest."

"We're going to tear you apart." "We're going to devour you."

The sound put banshees to shame.

Jiraiya wasn't even fully aware. He couldn't feel it. He couldn't really hear it. He was sitting up. Back against the corner. His futon abandoned, spotty with blood along with his blanket. His throat burning. Voice a destroyed mockery of what it was. Dry lips parted wide. Was he screaming? He wasn't sure. He didn't hear much beyond the pounding of his heart. Wetness trailed down his cheeks. All of him felt wet.

His wounds are bleeding. Sweat drenched him from head to toe. For the first time in decades he was crying, but he couldn't feel it. His only remaining hand gripping through the sheetrock of the wall for dear life. It took a long time to even see Konan in front of him, her brows furrowed and mouth moving. Her hands on his face as she tried to ground him back in reality.

The adrenaline left his body. And he crumpled. What healing he did the last two months was undone. His body slumps against the corner. Exhaustion washed over him more intense than he's ever felt. Dizzy. Nauseous. Numb.

He wasn't even sure why Konan bothered to save him. He’s all she has… But she deserved better. She’d be better off if he was dead.

His throat didn't work. It felt like sandpaper and nails. His eyes grew heavy. Sight blurs and consciousness slipped. If she knows what's good for her she'll slip her hands around his neck and finish the job. Or let him bleed out. Poke his wounds back open. Tear out his stitches. Break his bones again. He deserves to die. Slow. Painful.

Penance. For all he's done wrong. Kill him. Disgrace his body. Throw a parade to celebrate. Don’t mark his grave. He doesn’t deserve remembrance. Burn his memory from the earth.

He’ll be fine to let them torture him in the afterlife for all suffering he’s caused.

I'm sorry.

For being alive.

For ruining your life.

You should have let me die.

[luxeavenger]

Black Plaid

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x female!reader

Words: 2158

Warnings: Teasing, semi-public sex, spit kink, cock warming (mentioned), oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, anal fingering, anal sex, gagging, creampie, cum play, cum eating, scent kink, vaginal fingering

A/N1: This was written in response to an anon asking to have one of the boys in a skirt

A/N 2: Big thanks to @samantha-lefay for being the best damn beta reader on the planet

If you like it, please give it a reblog! Your friendly neighborhood smut peddler loves that shit!

Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

“Stevie, should I change?” you ask, tugging at your ripped jeans and faded Sex Pistols tee.

“Why? You’re already gorgeous.”

“But you look so good! I didn’t know we were dressing up?” You gesture to the black-on-black plaid skirt he’s wearing.

“There’s gotta be a special occasion for me to wanna look nice for my two favorite people?”

You giggle, “If you’re going for ‘nice’ what’s with the combat boots and ripped Deftones tee?”

He slips his dog tags over his neck, letting them fall against his chest, and shoots you a serious look. “A man has his limits, doll.”

Nat and Clint were lurking on the bus nursing twin hangovers, and throwing shoes at anyone who had the balls to make a noise louder than the sound of Alpine’s tuna dreams. So you, Steve, and Bucky decided to have an off-bus date night. Greasy pizza followed by a movie with lots of explosions.

You and Bucky opt to spend the entirety of dinner teasing Steve. Whispering filth in his ear, dipping your fingers under his skirt, or toying playfully with his cock when it stiffens under the attention. Every time Steve tries to get some friction on his dick you and Bucky pull away, moving to suck marks into his neck, tweak his nipples through his shirt, or drag your nails over his tattooed thighs.

By the time the waitress arrives at your table, Steve is a human stormcloud, glowering at both of you. Bucky beams radiantly at Steve while you order for the three of you.

By the time dinner is over Steve is thoroughly hot and bothered. The first side street you come to, he’s pushing you and Bucky into the alley.

Steve wraps a hand around your neck, and presses you back against the wall. Your hand automatically goes up his skirt to find his stiff cock. You swipe a thumb through the precome that drips from his piercing, and slick it over the head of his dick. You swallow hard, and the chunky ring on his thumb strums over the bands of cartridge protecting your trachea. You whisper breathlessly, “Did you pitch this tent for me, Stevie?”

“You know I fuckin’ did, doll,” he replies in a rough voice, his hands coming to rest against the wall on either side of you to box you in. He captures your mouth in a possessive kiss while you stroke him maddeningly slow.

Pulling away just enough to break the kiss, his lips feather against yours when he asks, “You gonna suck my cock, princess?” You nod enthusiastically. “Good,” he rumbles, “‘cause your hands are nice, but this mouth is fucking heaven.” He hooks a finger into your cheek, and tugs your jaw open so he can spit on your tongue.

“Stevie, want you in my mouth,” you moan. “Please. I need your cock.”

“It’s all yours,” he gently pushes your shoulder down until you sink to your knees between his big body and the wall. “Be a good girl and make me come, and I'll let you sit on it later. Keep it warm in that tight little pussy while we watch the movie.” He turns your face up towards him and teases your jaw open so he can drop a string of spit into the waiting ‘o’ of your mouth. He chases the spit with the head of his cock, groaning deeply when you suck and lick at the steel ring slipping heavily over your tongue.

He holds the front of his skirt in one fist so he can watch you work his dick.

Bucky’s arms go around Steve’s broad chest and he sucks marks onto his neck. Steve lets his head fall back against Bucky’s shoulder with a groan. When two of Bucky’s fingers push past his lips, Steve swirls his tongue around the digits until they’re soaked in spit.

Bucky takes his fingers back with a hum. “Been wanting to get up this skirt since you put it on, babe.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Steve slurs, already lost in the way your mouth feels around his cock.

“Well first,” Bucky grunts, “I’m gonna do this,” he lifts the back of Steve’s skirt with his metal hand, and kicks Steve’s legs apart, so he can push the spit-soaked fingers of his other hand into Steve’s ass.

He groans when Bucky starts fucking him with his fingers. “Then what?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s metal arm tightly circles Steve’s chest. “Then, I think I’ll fuck you until you come in her mouth.”

Steve grinds back onto Bucky’s fingers with a groan, “Please.”

“Stevie?” you summon him quietly. You’ve got a hand on his cock, and two fingers in your mouth, distorting the sound of his name.

“Yeah princess?” He looks down, and with a tsk tugs your fingers out of your mouth and pops them into his.

“Did you borrow this skirt from Scott?”

He nods, and asks around your fingers, “You think I should keep it?”

You nod, “I do. It’ll be easy to swipe ‘cause it’s probably gonna get messy, and he won’t want it back if there’s come on it.” You know this because Scott had once gone off on Clint for using one of his t-shirts to cover a wet spot on his mattress. The argument ended with Scott yelling that he refused to wear Clint’s jizz rag, because even if he washed it, ‘cotton remembers everything, Barton.’

Steve gives your fingers back with a smirk, and slips his cock over your tongue when your mouth pops open again. He huffs a laugh, “Well I guess we’ll just have to make a mess. Won't we?”

You hum your agreement, then you slide your hand between his muscular thighs, dipping behind his balls to trail over his taint, and back to where Bucky is slowly finger-fucking him. You guide your slick fingers in alongside Bucky’s, and Steve groans a curse.

After a few minutes you hear the metal-on-metal sound of Bucky undoing his belt, followed by the sound of Steve whining when he takes his fingers back.

“Hush, greedy boy,” Bucky softly scolds. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Then his cock is pushing in alongside your fingers. You move to pull them out, but, lightning quick, Steve’s hand is squeezing your forearm.

“Leave ‘em,” he sighs breathily around a moan, “please. Feels so-uh-uh-oohh fucking good.”

Bucky bunches the side of Steve's skirt up in his hand, “Look so pretty in this," the compliment is meant to be sweet, despite the pornographic way Bucky growls it in Steve’s ear as he bottoms out. “Want you to wear it when you ride my dick later.”

“God, fuck,” Steve groans, “anything you want, just don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, gorgeous. Love being inside of you too much.”

Your fingers are curled into Steve’s prostate, and Bucky’s dick constantly nudges them against that sweet spot. Steve’s dripping so much precome in your mouth it runs down your chin with the drool you can’t swallow.

Steve’s fingers card through your hair, and he pushes you down his cock until your forehead is pressed against his abs. His hand has you firmly pinned, so you go lax and let him control you.

“Fuck sweetheart,” Steve says with a long, low groan, “you were made to take this cock. Holy fuck.”

You can’t breathe with a dick lodged in your throat, but just as your lungs start to burn with your need for air, Steve drags you off his length. A long string of spit arches from your bottom lip to the head of his cock. You know your face is a mess, wet with tears, saliva, and precome, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in all his years on earth.

He swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, and smears the thick strand of spit over your cheek and chin. He’s made you even messier, but the admiration on his face only grows.

You ask quietly, “Is everything okay, Stevie?”

“Everything’s perfect,” he rumbles in a soft, gravelly voice as he milks a hand up his dick.

You open your mouth, and offer yourself to him; your tongue resting on your bottom lip, a warm, wet invitation. He slaps it with the head of his cock, then murmurs a curse, or maybe it’s praise—it all means the same thing when he’s slotting his length back into your throat.

Bucky’s leaking so much precome into Steve’s guts he’s nearly sloppy with it now. He squeezes Steve’s ass cheek with his metal hand, until Steve pushes back against him with a groan.

“‘S that feel good?”

Steve nods, and reaches behind him to grab ahold of Bucky’s forearm. The cool metal plates ripple under his palm, undulating as Bucky tightens his grip on Steve’s meaty ass cheek.

“‘S that feel better?”

Steve nods again, groaning a curse at the bright flare of pain.

You push Steve into your throat again, until your lips are pulled taut around the base of his cock. He curses in a breathless voice. His free hand smooths over your hair, before he palms the back of your head, and holds his dick in your mouth.

He calls your name until your eyes tilt up to meet his. His thumb traces softly over your cheekbone.

“Gag on it for me.”

The command flips a switch, dredging up the ghost of your long-gone gag reflex. The muscles of your esophagus rebel against the intrusion, and you choke on his cock.

He barks, “Fuck. Again.”

Your wet retch is what sends him over the edge. He pulls out of your throat as he starts to come, and jacks a fist over his slippery cock, aiming at your open mouth so he can watch his spunk pool on your tongue. The last spurt drips off your lip and onto your chin.

With surprising poise for someone who’s being fucked in the ass by Bucky Barnes, Steve uses the hem of his skirt to gently mop the tears, snot, spit, and jizz off your face.

“Well princess, guess it’s my skirt now,” he chuckles.

Once he’s done cleaning you up, and you take back the fingers you had stuffed in his hole, Bucky really lays into Steve. Chasing his own orgasm, Bucky fucks him hard and fast. One hand clamped over Steve’s hipbone, the other arm wrapped around his broad chest so Bucky can sink his teeth into the tender curve of muscle between Steve’s neck and shoulder. The skin-on-skin sound of their big bodies crashing into each other bounces off the walls on either side of the alley.

Bucky finishes deep in Steve’s guts with a curse growled into the teeth-marked skin of his neck. When he pulls out, come spills down Steve’s thick thighs, and Bucky drops to his knees to clean him up with his tongue.

You’re leaning against the wall in front of Steve when he draws in a deep breath, and lets it out with a rumble from the depths of his chest.

“Baby girl, I can fucking smell you. You’re dripping wet,” he growls. “Get over here and let me return the favor.”

You grab the chain of his dog tags, and use it to tow yourself closer. His big hand cups your cheek as he pulls you in for a kiss. He intends for it to be a tender kiss, but when he realizes you’ve still got his come in your mouth, the kiss becomes heated as he turns greedy. Licking his way into your mouth, sucking on your tongue, he takes every drop you push past his lips. His fingers curl around either side of your jaw to keep you still until he doesn’t taste himself on you anymore.

“Fuck, you really were made for me, weren’t you?” he whispers against your lips, echoing his earlier sentiment. His eyes dart over your face, mapping your expression, surveying your beauty with the rapt attention of an art student studying the paintings that hang in the Louvre. “Made for us,” he amends. “Made for us to love. And to love us.”

You brush a stray lock of golden hair away from his forehead, and give him a sweet smile, “You know what,” you huff a quiet laugh, “I really think I might have been.”

Even in a grimy alley, with a tongue in his ass he kisses you with so much love it makes you giddy. Your hands drop to his hips, gathering handfuls of his skirt in each hand to keep him close for as long as you can. Then his hands are on the front of your pants, deft fingers popping the button open, and raking down the zipper, so he can get his fingers in your dripping cunt.

“Stevie, what about the movie?”

You whine when he slips two fingers into your wet heat. “What movie?” he grins.

If you like it, please smash that reblog button so others can find it too!

[peachybun-bun]

Red

the graphic above was edited by @chogiwapadada

do not remove the watermark and do not repost

pairing; woozi (lee jihoon) x gn reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

notes/warnings; messy oral (m receiving), dirty talk, reader swallows

word count; 600 and some change

You can’t help but smile as you hear Woozi take in a deep breath, leaning his head back on to his chair. Your fingernails graze along his bare legs as you rest on your knees between his legs, looking up at him and waiting for his attention to be back on you. 

Letting out a soft laugh as he feels your breath against his thighs, he lifts his head, looking down at you with a groan as he meets your gaze. “You are so fucking beautiful. Look at you…”

Smirking, you bite at your bottom lip as he lifts his hand to hold your chin, before running his thumb over your bottom lip and spreading your ruby red lipstick. “I love this color on you. Shit…”

You make his words falter as you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking softly, signaling what you want to do to his waiting cock. Woozi pulls his thumb from your mouth, smiling as he sees the red mark around the base of it, only to groan loudly as your mouth instantly wraps around his tip. 

Your hand wraps around his base as you moan, sending a vibration through his body and making him lift his hips, thrusting towards your mouth. One hand finds its way into your hair, as the other grips the arm of the chair tightly, as red lipstick is left like a ring around Woozi’s cock. 

A long moan lingers on his lips as he watches your move over him as you take more of his length into your mouth, until he reaches your throat, causing you to pull back as you gag slightly. A smile on your lips as you look up meeting Woozi’s eyes, watching him shake his head as his thighs tremble. You are driving him crazy, quickly pushing him towards his climax. 

When your thumb glides over his slit, spreading your spit and his pre-cum, Woozi can’t help but to throw his head back and tug at your hair, pulling you back down towards his waiting cock. “You are killing me, baby.” 

His teeth biting into his lip so hard he is afraid he might draw blood, Woozi whimpers your name as your hand twists around his shaft under your mouth as you take his deep into your mouth once again, hollowing your cheeks as you moan.

Your eyes close as you enjoy the sweet burn of his fingers tugging at your hair as he tries to keep himself on that edge, knowing he can’t hold on forever.  “I…oh god. I’m gonna cum. Fu-fuck!”

You simply pull back enough to meet his eyes and open your mouth, letting the head of his cock rest on your waiting tongue as Woozi lets go. His eyes are dark with lust and fix on yours as he watches you lick your lips clean of his climax with a moan. 

A low laugh leaves his chest, before he glances down at his softening cock with a tilted head, biting his lip before groaning at the sight of your red lipstick marks. You feel him jerk in your hand and can’t help but smirk at his arousal. “You are going to be the death of me.” 

You carefully climb into his lap, not wanting to overstimulate him too much, though even the pressure of you against him is enough to make him hiss out another groan as Woozi lifts his hand to run his thumb over the red smear of lipstick covering your chin. “My messy baby. What am I going to do with you?”

A laugh plays on your lips as you lean to press a kiss to his lips with a shrug of your shoulders, causing him to raise his brows as you speak on his lips, “Lick me clean?” 

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

tag list; @m1ss-foodi3, @chaebb, @astroodledream, @shingisimp, @suxihyl, @bmnmin23, @kenmaslutty, @destinyg237

© peachybun-bun - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed. 

[kawaiiprncss]

I Can Take It

Diluc x fem!reader

Playlist/album: Hardwired... To Self-Destruct by Metallica

Tags: Major content warning!!!! ROLEPLAYING, BDSM, safeword established, dub-con, rough sex, slapping, pain, dacryphilia, dom!Diluc, sub!reader, penetrative sex (f!receiving), marking (kinda), maid kink, pet names (my love, angel), aftercare

Minors dni, 18+, nsfw

The Darknight Hero returns home, temper boiling from something unknown. Fortunately, his favourite maid and lover is there to help him release tensions.

A/N: This is a roleplaying scene between a couple, this was all planned between Diluc and reader pls understand this

This is my first fic here wow pls be kind also any tags that need to be added let me know I'm more than happy to add tags!

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

Nobody knows what had the master so put-off today. It was a regular day for the maids of Dawn Winery. You were doing your regular nightly rounds in the master's private chambers, pleating the duvet corners correctly, night lantern lit, curtains closed, all the details the way it was supposed to be. It was the last task you had before retiring to your own bedroom for the night, as far as all the other maids were aware. You and the master had been in love for a long while and were passionate together when nobody else was around. Tonight, the Darknight Hero was out, whereabouts unknown, but it wasn't uncommon for him to return while the moon was still bright and  the rest of the home sleeping. 

The large oak door burst open, and the tall redheaded master stomped through the doorway and threw down his jacket on the back of his desk chair, evidently fuming and unsettled by something. 

"Master Diluc! My apologies, I'm almost finished. Please excuse me!" As far as anyone else was concerned, you were still on duty and had to behave as such. He turned back, slammed the door shut and stalked towards you.

"You know the word, my love" he said, barely above a whisper while staring into your eyes. You stared back at him, noting the rigid trust in his glare, and gave him and firm nod. You were aware of what was to happen next, as it was previously discussed with your partner. Suddely, he raised his right hand and swung it with force, the open palm connecting with the side of your face. The slap burned and stung, you felt a welt already begin to rise. He slapped again on the same spot, causing you to stumble down towards the bed behind you. You put your arm out behind you to catch yourself as the pain worsened. Diluc leaned his body over yours, his muscurlar form casting a shadow over your delicate maid uniform. Your ears were ringing from the harsh force of the slaps and your cheek began to throb from the pain. A gloved hand snaked around your neck, pushing you flat down to the bed with just enough pressure to pin you down while the other hand continued the blows a little while longer. You whimpered louder as each strike hurt more and more. He flipped your black lace skirt over your torso, exposing the skin of your thighs just above the top of your stockings and your panties. Diluc grabbed one of your legs and yanked, causing you to yelp in surprise. Now that your hips were placed in perfect alightment with his, he let go of your neck and shoved the center of your underwear aside, revealing your pussy to your master. 

"Open." The command was curt and clear. You spread your legs apart and understood further as soon as four fingers made their way into your mouh, pushing past your tongue. Saliva gathered around Diluc's fingers as your gag reflex was triggered, bringing tears to your eyes. He pulled out his hand, now covered in spit and spread it across your cunt, preparing it for a smooth entrance. Diluc undid the zipper to his pants and pulled them down just enough to expose his throbbing cock. The head of his dick was a blushing red and leaking precum. He spat on your folds, further lubing you up. He slip the tip up and down along your cunt, spreading the mix of both your spit and juices. You felt the stretch as his length and girth split your pussy open as his cock filled you to the brim. Without warning, Diluc began pounding into you, hard and fast, with no regard to the sounds the bed was making as it creaked beneath you. The fucking was aggressive and angry, just the way you asked him to fuck you before any of the scene even started. You wanted him to use your body to let out any pent up frustrations, sexual or otherwise. He hiked one of your legs over his broad shoulder and began thrusting even faster and deeper. One hand held tightly on your hip while the other gripped the flesh of the thigh he pulled up, causing you to scream out in pleasure.

"Master! Master,  please! Ohhh....f-fuck! Please let me cum, sir, please!" Hot tears began streaming down your face as you g-spot was struck with every thrust of his thick cock. You could feel an impending orgasm bubbling up in your lower abdomen.

Diluc grunted under his breath as your plush walls sucked him in and slid along his length repeatedly, burrying his face in the side of your leg. Your cunt was hot and tight and the violent rhythym of fucking was causing him to near his own finish.

"Take my seed, fucking swallow it." Diluc pulled his cock free and began thrusting into his own hand above your face, releasing hot cum all over your swollen, tear-stained cheeks and lips. His mouth dropped open, watching his juices coat your smooth skin that he previously assaulted, marking you as his.

"I can take it, Master, please" you babbled as you stuck your tongue out in need for his semen, feeling it jet out onto your face in thick ropes. Once his cock was emptied out onto you, he inserted three fingers back into your cunt and fucked you with them, allowing you to chase your own climax that was already close. 

"Ahh! Yes, thank you, Master Diluc..." You moaned Diluc's name as an orgasm boiled over, causing your toes to curl, your eyes to squeeze shut, and your back to arch. 

- - - - -

"Are you okay, angel? It wasn't too hard? How's your face?" Diluc wiped your face with a warm, damp cloth, dabbing lighly over the side he had been slapping repeatedly not too long before. 

"It was perfect, Diluc, thank you. You're feeling okay?" You reassured your boyfriend that it was a perfect scene and continued to clean up together. You sat in a clawfooted bathtub with each other, washing away the filth of earlier and soothing the senses.

[itsmentalillness]

𝐈’𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐰 || 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated

A/N: I know a lot of people started school or start soon, so I hope y’all are doing well. but that means my fics are going to start flopping again, so comments and reblogs will help a lot. thanks @angel4you and @dinsprettygirl for telling me what to tag this as-

CW: somnophilia, fem!reader, allusions to subspace, sub!reader, oral fixation, finger sucking, oral cockwarming, use of sir once

Word Count: 870

Taglist Form

“Ani?”

Your whisper seemed to echo through the empty quarters that belonged to you and your boyfriend.

To say you desperately needed the attention of Anakin would be an understatement. Seeing as Anakin came home fairly late, even by his standard, you wished not to disturb him because of the thick cloud muddling your mind. While time passed on and you lied awake helplessly, not bothering him became less of an option.

When nudging your head in between his shoulder blades didn’t get any reaction from him, you rose out from under the sheets and you kneeled next to the Jedi; placing your hands on his shoulder, and shook the best you could.

“Anakin please.”

Your whines only became more anguished as the haze set deeper. If he didn’t wake soon, you’d be forced to take matters into your own hands, which was something he allowed and you’d done once before. Yet last time, you weren’t half as far gone.

You climbed over Anakin, so you were now face to face with his sleeping figure. Carefully, you tugged on one of his hands, pulling it free from the confines of the soft pillow. And with little thought, you stuck two of his fingers in the warmth of your mouth. This action only got a minimal reaction from him, which you weren’t sure was a good thing or a bad thing.

Your sucking hastened. Surely this could fill the void. Whatever that void may be. It wasn’t clear what you needed from him. You just needed. And he had to know the answer. If he didn’t, who would?

Your lashes became heavy as your eyes welled with tears of frustration. Words of Anakin rang through your ears.

Good girls don’t cry for more. They take what they’re given.

Good girls be damned. You wrapped your hands hands tighter around his wrist, pulling it closer to you and down your throat.

For a second, while the rough pads of his fingers hit the back of your throat, everything seemed fine. Your whines had softened, they became more mellow and content as you calmed down. Only a couple of tears adorned your flushed cheeks, but that didn’t matter. Your eyes fell heavy, this time with a need for slumber and not irritation. All seemed right in the world.

That was, until he rolled away. He was on his back, and his fingers were pulled from your mouth.

A loud whine escaped your lips at the loss of his fingers. This only made Anakin stir slightly. The sight of his hips rocking side to side put an idea in your head.

With little second thought, you crawled in between his legs, dragging the sheets just below his waist.

Just as you were about to pull down his boxers, doubt hit you like a train. Was this okay? Would he be angry you couldn’t wait for him? Thoughts of not being his good girl swirled through your head. What happened if this made him disappointed?

No. Didn’t matter. He said you could, only if you really needed him. And all you needed at this moment was him.

Now, with no hesitation in mind, you pulled down his boxers. You let out a soft giggle at the sight of his cock. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, it always seemed strange soft.

With the lightest touch you could muster, you took his cock in your hand, cautiously moving up and down his shaft as to not wake him.

Once beads of pre-cum formed on his head, you took his cock into your mouth. Humming softly in contentment, he moved. His hips bucked up into your mouth, causing you to gag around him. Tears marked his boxers as you tried to contain yourself.

You gently tilted your head, so you were rested on his thigh, but the sudden contact made his leg jerk upwards. Immediately you whined again, this time a lot louder. And this time, he woke up.

“Angel?”

You could barley see him perched up on his elbows to look down on you, in the room's darkness.

“I’m sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Him finding you like this in such a state felt humiliating; you scurried to your knees as to not make the situation look worse than it was. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you buried your flushed face into your palms.

The cool of his metal hand was a startling contrast to your warm skin. When he peeled your hands from your face, he spoke. His voice was rough and drowsy from waking up moments earlier. Relief washed over you, knowing that he was here to help now.

“Angel, I’m not upset. You’re fine. You need my cock again.”

He knew what you needed. He always did. You settled between his legs again, taking his cock back into your mouth, sucking gently.

Pride filled you when the man above you let out a hiss along with praises of “good girl”.

Finally, after all the evening’s work, you felt comfortable. You were safe with Anakin; he was her to care for you.

He spoke a low “I’m here now.” For reassurance that he wouldn’t sleep until you were.

taglist: @baueoud @peachybaes @prongs103 @mollysolo @o-rion-sta-r @emo-typical @romqnticizer @dreamy-clousds

[mia-tiny]

Good Girl | J. Wooyoung

⇒ pairing: harddom!yandere!j. wooyoung x fem!reader

⇒ smut, yandere!wooyoung, possessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, BDSM (rope bondage, dominance, impact play with belt), ball gag, punishment, lil bit of hair pulling, lil bit of crying, lil bit of anal fingering, butt plug, rough sex, marking, use of good girl/slut/whore, unprotected sex (do not do this irl)

⇒ word count: 3.1k

⇒ summary: Despite having taught you this lesson before, Wooyoung is determined to make you remember it this time.

💕 view my masterlist here

⇒ author’s note: Please be aware this is entirely fiction and does NOT represent a healthy relationship at all. All sexual interactions should be consensual. Practice of any aspect of BDSM should be executed consensually, with a safe word, and be pre discussed by both parties. This piece is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be read if the tags are triggering to you.

You dig furiously through the couch cushions and blankets in a mad rush to find your phone, next looking through all of the drawers, underneath furniture, and around all tabletops. Nothing comes up and you seriously begin to panic as you realize it is likely in the bedroom where your boyfriend said he is going to take a nap. There is no way in hell you can let him find that phone first.

Carefully, you sneak down the hallway and towards the closed door of the master bedroom. Your hand gently turns the knob and pushes it open a millimeter at a time to make sure it doesn’t squeak at all. Once the gap is a few inches wide, you peek in to make sure Wooyoung is asleep, but gasp at the sight in front of you. He looks up at you nonchalantly as you let go of the knob and the door slowly swings open on its own. Just before he noticed you, he was laying calmly on his back and scrolling through the contents of your phone. Now he sits up and lets a devilish grin spread across his face, one that you know signals trouble.

“Looking for this?” he asks in a teasing manner.

“Wooyoung, I can explain,” you murmur timidly as his intense stare makes your heart race anxiously. “He’s an old friend from high school and he just wanted to meet up for old time’s sake, get a meal or something. You probably read the messages, you know it’s nothing more than that.”

And it truly isn’t. But that isn’t what matters to Wooyoung. As much as you already know this, you can’t help but attempt to calm his possessive nature before it intensifies.

As he processes your words, he nods in mock understanding and uses two fingers to beckon you towards him.

“Wooyoung…” you plead quietly in response to his actions, but follow his directions anyway to keep things from getting worse. He stands up at the side of the bed and pulls your body against his as he stares down at you with dominance, your phone now resting on the bedside table.

“If it’s nothing, why didn’t you tell me, hm?” he challenges as you feel your breath hitch in your throat.

“I knew you’d be mad,” you mutter as your eyes fall to his chest, unable to take the formidable glare he is giving you. “I’m sorry.”

He humorlessly chuckles under his breath before walking to stand behind you. You are frozen in place when he moves his mouth up against your ear, causing you to feel his warm breath tickle your cheek.

“If you knew I would be mad, you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” he states bluntly before pushing you onto the bed by your hips. Landing with a humph, you glance over your shoulder to see him glaring down at you like a hunter about to pounce on its prey. “Strip.”

“Wooyoung, I-”

He cuts you off immediately with a harsh slap on your ass, visibly fuming as you yelp in pain.

“I suggest you shut that pretty mouth before it gets you in even more trouble,” he purrs. “Now strip.”

You give in to your fate and silently begin removing your clothing while he strolls over to the bottom drawer of his dresser and digs through it to find exactly what he is looking for. Your naked form sits shyly on the bed as you prepare yourself for what is to come.

After all this time with Wooyoung, you know you shouldn’t have tried to hide your conversation with another male, let alone talk to another man at all. Anytime you’ve done so in the past, Wooyoung has been efficient and ruthless in teaching you that you belong only to him, but it seems you haven’t quite learned your lesson just yet.

You feel your heart thumping heavily in your chest as you watch how calmly he removes red ropes and a ball gag from the drawer and strolls towards you with an intimidating sense of controlled anger. Without any protest, you allow him to tie your hands together in front of you before attaching them to the wire headboard above you and flipping you onto your stomach. He then quickly ties each of your ankles down to the two ends of the footboard, leaving you unable to escape or resist him in any way.

Although he says nothing, you can feel his frightening aura as he finishes and takes a seat next to your exposed body, looking down at your anxious face while you glance up at him. He shows no emotion as he brushes your hair from your face and sighs heavily.

“Anything to say?” he asks, finally granting you permission to speak again as your eyes begin to tear up slightly from how disappointed he looks in you.

“I’m sorry, Wooyoung,” you croak out barely above a whisper as his thumb caresses your cheek, feeling momentarily comforted before he harshly grabs your chin and leans closer to your face.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me now, or else you will learn what being sorry really means,” he commands threateningly, to which you nod humbly. He picks up the ball gag from the bedside table and places it next to you on the bed. “Make a single sound and I will shut you up for the rest of the night.”

You nearly whimper at the authority in his voice, but suppress the sound in fear of him following through with his threat. You opt to nod once again, signaling your understanding.

He calmly rises from his seated position and strolls around the bed as the anticipation makes your heart race at an alarming rate. You fight the urge to try looking behind you, figuring staying still and obedient is your best option. You hear metal clinking together and realize what is going to happen only moments before you feel the hard whip of his leather belt against your ass.

You fight every instinct in your body that tells you to scream, tensing your hands and feet to deal with the sting. He takes no time in delivering a second, even more merciless blow in the same exact spot. You naturally wriggle slightly in your restraints as your body attempts to escape, but he just chuckles at you in amusement.

“Does that hurt, love?” he asks teasingly, but you know better than to actually reply. He lands another couple stripes and you bite down harshly on your bottom lip while trying to control your breathing. “How do you think I feel, Y/N? How many times do I have to teach you that you are mine and no one else’s?”

The impact of the belt comes faster and harder as he gets worked up, tears beginning to spill from your eyes as you try not to sob.

“I do this because I love you.” Whack.

“Don’t you know that?” Whack. Whack.

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby.” Whack.

“But you just keep having to be taught the same lessons, huh?” Whack. Whack.

The next hit comes down so hard that a loud cry has escaped your mouth before you even know it. Once the seal breaks, you can’t stop the whimpers and pleas that fall from your lips in desperation.

“Please, Wooyoung, I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again, I promise. Please.”

He quickly moves towards you and grabs a fistful of your hair to whip your head back and away from the pillow that now has tear stains along the front of it. You cry softly as he forces you to look him in the eye. He almost looks high off of the pain he is giving you, taking in your pathetic expression with intrigue.

“How can I trust you’ll never do it again when you can’t even follow my directions?” he spits viciously before releasing your head and reaching for the nearby ball gag.

“I’ll be quiet, Woo-”

He shuts you up by shoving the item into your mouth and fastening it tightly around the back of your head. He says nothing more as he stands up from the bed again and takes the same position as before, ready to resume your punishment.

This time, your cries and yelps of pain fall freely, but are all stifled quickly by the gag. You aren’t even able to plead with Wooyoung as he lands continuous and brutal lashes on your ass. You lose track of just how many times he hits you, but even he is panting by the time you hear him drop his belt on the floor and stroll back to his dresser.

Your body is quivering as you breathe through the burning pain you’re experiencing, your hands also wiggling in their restraints in an attempt to get feeling back in your now-numb fingers. As he slowly strolls back towards your defenseless form, you pray that he is at least done with the spanking at this point.

“Hmm,” he hums to himself pensively. “Just what do I have to do to finally get my point through to you?”

He climbs onto the bed with you and sits between your open legs before tightly gripping and massaging your red, swollen ass cheeks. You whimper at the sensation.

“Maybe I should make all of you mine,” he purrs in amusement while slightly spreading your ass cheeks. “Every. Last. Part.”

As he emphasizes each word, you feel his cold finger graze over your tight hole and freeze immediately. Never had you explored anal with Wooyoung and it certainly wasn’t something you’d imagined being possible as a punishment. Your chest swells with fear as you grow tense. He must sense this because he simply chuckles lightly and removes his hand to apply a generous amount of lube to his fingers.

“What do you think, love?” he questions as he begins to spread the gel on your rim as well, applying a small amount of pressure as he caresses around your hole.

In response, you shake your head vigorously and try to speak around the gag, but all that comes out is indecipherable gibberish.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite understand you,” he taunts, loving every second of your desperate struggle. “Don’t you want to be fully mine?”

His middle finger begins slowly pressing into your hole and you gasp at the intrusion. He moans deeply as he continues to press further, feeling around gently as he stretches you out. You can’t help but fight against the ropes around your limbs, though it does you no good anyways.

“So tight for me, baby.” He then slowly begins to press a second finger in as well as you continue to shake your head in protest.

“Good girl,” he coos as he moves his digits around inside of you, the foreign sensation making your stomach turn. With just two fingers in, you already feel stuffed to the brim. Just the thought of him forcing his entire cock in there makes you shudder in fear.

“Such a good slut for me, taking everything I give you,” he practically moans as he takes in the sight before him. “Who fucking owns you?”

His voice commands an answer, so you speak as best as you can around the gag.

“You do,” you murmur, his fingers muddying your concentration.

“Louder,” he demands with a slap on your stinging ass cheek. “Who fucking owns you?”

“You do, Wooyoung!” Your muffled declaration appeases him enough to withdraw his digits from your hole.

“Since you at least know that, I’ll save your ass for another night,” he states with mercy, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief before instantly gasping it back up at the feeling of something cold against your hole. “But I do want you to hold something for me.”

He slowly and carefully presses the metal butt plug he had secretly bought into your tight hole, watching as you breathe shakily at the width of it. As it finally makes its way inside, you let out a whimper and he only hums excitedly in response, loving the visual in front of him.

After taking a moment to admire your helpless state, he stands up from the bed and unties the ropes around your ankles with ease. As the blood flow is finally fully restored, your toes start stinging with pins and needles. It is impossible for you to guess how long you’ve even been in this position with how warped your sense of time has become.

Wooyoung flips you onto your back with ease, causing you to yelp at both the stinging of your ass cheeks and the movement of the plug. He grabs you by the chin and forces you to meet his eyes while he admires how delectable you look all fucked out and at his mercy.

“Do you think you’ve been a good girl, baby?”

You nod enthusiastically, hoping he will finally grant you some reprieve. Thankfully, he reaches down and removes the gag from your mouth, tossing it to the floor mindlessly. Your jaw aches horrendously as you can finally move it again, but you’re grateful to be able to speak.

“I’ll be good for you, Wooyoung,” you manage to croak out with your hoarse voice. He smiles down at you arrogantly, knowing his lesson must have worked.

“Are you going to talk to that guy again?” he challenges.

“Never. I won’t ever talk to a man without your permission again,” you helplessly babble.

His satisfied grin comforts you while his hand sneaks slowly down your body until his fingertips ghost over your pussy. Still staring you in the eye, he watches you gasp as he begins rubbing circles on your sensitive clit, loving the way your hips buck up slightly in response.

“Does my good little slut want something?”

His low, taunting tone makes you moan as you reply. “Please fuck me, Wooyoung. Please.”

The absolute desperation in your voice causes his hard cock to pulse painfully in his pants. Without another word, he stands up and quickly removes his clothing, haphazardly tossing it to the floor without care.

You are dying to reach out and run your hands along his gorgeous body, but can only settle for looking as your core begins to ache for stimulation. You watch in awe as his hard dick springs free from his boxers and lick your lips subconsciously. After suffering through your punishment, you are craving the pleasure only he can give you.

He takes no time in climbing on top of you and kissing you passionately while using one hand to massage your clit once more. His lips move to your jawline and then neck as he begins sucking and biting purple marks onto your skin, marking you as his. A moan escapes your mouth and he removes his hand as he lines his cock up with your pussy, gently pressing the head against your hole as you wish he would just fuck you already.

“Wooyoung, plea-”

You aren’t even able to finish your sentence before he has shoved his entire length inside of you, causing your mouth to fall open and back to arch into him. With the butt plug still in your ass, you feel fuller than ever, and it takes a moment to adjust to his size.

“Does my cock feel good, baby? You like being stuffed full?” he coos in your ear before kissing and nibbling on it, driving you crazy.

“My hands,” you murmur pathetically, needing to hold and embrace him more than anything right now. “I want to touch you, Wooyoung. Please untie my hands.”

He gives you a deep kiss and kindly obliges to your request, removing the rope quickly and moving back in to meet your lips. Although your shoulders ache, you bring your arms down and hold the sides of his face as it moves against yours, loving the way he feels on your fingertips no matter how much pain he just put you through.

“I love you,” you state once he breaks the kiss, a hand moving to push his hair out of his eyes.

“I love you, baby. More than anyone.”

With that, he immediately begins pounding into you with tremendous force, causing you to yelp with each quick thrust of his hips. As painful as the butt plug felt at first, it now causes the pleasure to amplify as he has his way with you.

Your nails dig into his back as he absolutely destroys you, but he secretly loves the sting of it and the way it signals just how good he is making you feel.

Curses fall from your mouth as Wooyoung once again begins peppering your neck with hickeys, never once slowing his pace or faltering. All of his previous actions now seem worth it as you get lost in the sensation building in your core.

Without warning, he leans back and uses his hands to push your legs towards your chest before hammering into you again, this time perfectly hitting the angle that drives you wild. Your hands grasp tightly onto the sheets as you moan louder and louder with each thrust. Toes curling, you can feel your orgasm building and know you aren’t going to last much longer with just how rough he is fucking you.

Wooyoung can feel your pussy tightening around him and speeds up even more, determined to prove that your body is his alone and no one else can make you feel like he does. He even takes one hand and begins rapidly rubbing your clit as he groans at the way you clench around him.

“Fuck, Wooyoung,” you whimper as your orgasm builds more and more. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum, slut,” he commands, sending you over the edge as you reach your high and constrict around him powerfully, causing him to also moan loudly and reach his own release.

Your orgasm is so powerful that your body shakes and you almost feel as if you’ve blacked out for a second before coming back down to earth. Wooyoung’s cock has stilled inside you as he empties his cum into your throbbing pussy, both of you panting and sweaty from the intensity of it all.

After taking a moment to breathe, he slowly pulls out of you before carefully removing the plug as well, making you wince as it exits your hole. He finally lays down next to you and pulls you into his arms so that your head rests against his chest, his hand absentmindedly stroking your hair.

“Did you learn your lesson?” he eventually asks in all seriousness as he remembers exactly what caused this mess.

“Yes, Wooyoung. I’m sorry. I will block him,” you reply obediently since you are truly willing to do anything for him, even if he has to discipline you sometimes.

He simply places a chaste kiss to your forehead before whispering calmly, “good girl.”

[jackrrabbit]

Spoiled Rotten /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Request: What if Overhaul fucks spoiled rich reader because her dad owes the yakuza money and in exchange Kai takes the daughter as a form of payment using her as his personal stress doll whenever and wherever he wants making her into his perfect little doll

A/N: While I was writing this my roommate asked if I was okay bc cause I kept stopping to fan myself and blush lmaooooo god I’m such a brat. I did change the concept up a bit, hope that’s fine!

This is dedicated not only to the OG requester but also to everyone who read the excerpt I posted a while back and told me they couldn’t wait to see the finished product!! Love you guys ❤️

Tags/warnings: threats, dubcon/coercion, dom/sub, brat taming, degradation, exhibitionism, restraints, mentions of forced prostitution, verbal & physical harassment, kidnapping, kinda breath play?, long

The first thing you notice when you come to are voices. Multiple people talking to each other, speech overlapping in patterns you can’t make out. They’re quiet—not whispering for your sake, but quiet because you’re still half knocked-out and you can barely hear.

The second thing you notice is the pounding in your head and the lingering smell of something sweet spread over your nose and mouth.

The third thing you notice is the fact that when you try to blink your eyes open, your lashes brush against something soft and dark. You’re blindfolded…and gagged, and your hands feel like they’re cuffed behind your back. From what you can sense around you, it seems like you’re hunched in a kneeling position with your cheek flattened against the floor and your bare feet tucked under your backside.

At least you’re still in your nightgown. You can feel the frilly silk of it, a useless barrier between your skin and the cool air, and it reminds you of how you got here in the first place.

A loud noise in the night. Your father’s voice pleading. A heavy thump. The door to your bedroom banging open and a strange man holding you down to your bed…lifting a sweet-smelling rag to your mouth…telling you to “take a deeeeep breath, princess.”

“Hey, I think she’s waking up.”

An invisible hand fists itself in your hair and you whine in pain as your upper body is lifted off the floor. Once you’re properly upright, you hear squeaking, shoes against concrete, and the heat and breath and presence of someone behind you. Something rustles at the back of your head—you’re too scared to move so you stay still—and then the blindfold is being lifted off your face.

Once it’s gone, you have to blink for a moment even despite the low light of the dingy room where you’ve…apparently…been kidnapped. By the freaking yakuza. And for some reason, they’re all wearing bird-beak masks.

You close your eyes, almost wishing they hadn’t taken the blindfold off. You’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance of how decidedly unclean the floor is. How dare they let your face touch it? What happened to honor among thieves?

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Against your will, your eyes flick up to the speaker. He’s the only one sitting, and somehow that gives him a position of power among the others. The leader?

Unsettling golden eyes rest on yours, and you realize he’s waiting for your answer, so you slowly move your head from side to side.

“Didn’t know about daddy’s bad habits, huh?” This time the person speaking is behind you, the one who untied your blindfold, a thin man with lank, greasy blond hair. He’s the one who drugged me, you remember in a surge of panic, and you try to stand up away from him only for him to step on the chain that connects your handcuffs, jerking you back and pinning you—painfully—to the floor.

“Careful, Setsuno. I told you not to leave marks. Let her talk.”

“Got it, boss.” The blond—Setsuno—fumbles at the back of your head and then he’s pulling the gag out of your mouth.

You open and close your mouth a few times to stretch out the stiff muscles. “Oh. My. God. Was that polyester you just took out of my mouth? Do you have any idea how bad synthetics are for sensitive skin? I’m totally going to break out.”

A hush falls over the little room. You could hear a pin drop.

“…Are you complaining about the quality of the fabric we gagged you with?” the leader asks after a second.

“You may be yakuza, but you don’t have to act like savages,” you reply primly, aligning your knees together and sending a proud look off to the side.

“Ohh…little princess deserves better, does she?” Setsuno coos. He edges closer to rub his cheek against yours and laughs when you cringe away from him. “Boss, you shoulda seen her bedroom. All pink and frilly, looked like royalty lived there. Bet they treat you like a real princess at home, huh? No wonder your daddy’s in debt.”

“Daddy isn’t—“

“Your father…took out loans from my gang. My men came last night to collect,” the leader says, drumming his fingers over the armrest of his chair impatiently.

He’s wearing plastic gloves. Why is he wearing plastic gloves? Immediately your mind is spinning, imagining all the different gruesome possibilities of what they’re going to do to you. “That’s ridiculous. My daddy doesn’t need to borrow money—“

“Clearly he does, because it looks like he pissed it all away on his daughter.” The leader’s eyes are cold enough to make you shiver—although maybe that’s just the icy temperature of the floor soaking through your nightgown.

“He had a couple payments overdue, so we stopped by to ask nicely for him to pay up,” Setsuno says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Didn’t find too many valuables in your house, but then we got our hands on a real treasure.”

“Don’t touch me—“

“You don’t seem to understand the position you’re in,” the leader says. “When I made my contract with your father, he understood that obligations like these are inherited. Since he can’t pay his debt, you’re going to be working it off in his place.”

Working it off? You swallow. Somehow you don’t think he’s talking about your little part-time job as a receptionist at your daddy’s company. “You can’t make me do that.”

“I’m not sure you’re getting the gist, princess,” Setsuno hums. “What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna put you in a room, and then men are gonna give us money, and then we’ll let those men fuck you. All that money’s gonna go toward paying what your daddy borrowed. Sound good?”

For the first time since you can remember, you’re shocked speechless. They’re going to…what? But you’re a quick thinker, and instead of letting these filthy, awful gangters boss you around, you raise your chin haughtily to look directly into the leader’s eyes. “I don’t think so. If Daddy’s the one who got himself in debt, you can make him whore himself out to pay it back. You can’t hold me responsible for something he’s done.”

Another brief silence, and then you hear a whistle echo out from the corner of the room (and you try not to look toward it, reminding yourself that this can only get worse if they know how scared you are). “She’s got a mouth on her, Overhaul,” someone says.

Overhaul. So the leader’s name is Overhaul. How ridiculous; it sounds like a villain’s name.

“Aww, princess,” Setsuno says, and once again his voice is too close for your comfort. “Little spoiled princess doesn’t know how to shut her mouth and suck it up when things don’t go her way? Well…you’ll learn.”

You don’t want to know what he’s talking about, although if you thought about it for more than a second it’d be obvious. You suck in a harsh breath and the cool, damp air stings against your dry throat. “You can’t just make me—“

“Ohh, I think we can. See, if your daddy’s been spending all of the Shie Hassaikai’s money on his precious daughter, don’t you think you owe a little too? Like, this dress—“ you jump as Setsuno’s hand tugs on the thin, floaty silk— “was bought with Overhaul’s money, so it belongs to him, right?”

You keep quiet, not wanting to prompt him to go further, but when his hands stroke up over your waist to grope your breasts in full view of everyone else in the room, you don’t really have to guess.

“And, y’know, your daddy’s been keeping you nice and healthy with Overhaul’s cash, making sure you grow up into such a pretty girl…” Setsuno’s voice is a purr in your ear as his hands squeeze your tits almost lovingly, then pinch your nipples through the fabric. “So hey—if you think about it, this tight little body…belongs to Overhaul too. Isn’t that right, sir?”

You squirm in place as best you can but with the metal cuffs digging into your wrists, there’s nothing you can do to get away from his touch. You’re desperate enough to shoot a terrified glance up at the leader—surely there are rules about treating an innocent girl like this, even for the yakuza—but he looks as unmoved as before. “Get her out of my sight. We’ll give her a rest for the next few days, and then…”

“No!” you yelp, too panicked to keep up the pretense of confidence. “I won’t, I can’t do that, please don’t make me—“

“Shhh. You’ll get used to it, princess. And if you don’t…” Setsuno’s hand combs though your hair and then trails down your neck, tracing the path of your spine between your shoulder blades. “…well, you won’t really have much of a choice, will you?”

And then he’s tugging on your cuffed hands, pulling you to a standing position, but you wriggle away from him and do everything you can to stay planted on the ground so they can’t take you away from here, away from the only man who is capable of stopping this. Overhaul. “Please! I’m— I can work it off another way! I’ll be useful— I’ll—“

Overhaul leans forward a fraction in his chair, and you wonder if you’ve caught his interest. “What, exactly? How do you think you can be useful to me?”

You bite your lip and wrack your brains, not knowing whether the question is rhetorical. What skills do you have that would be valuable to them? Suddenly all the knowledge you’ve gained in your short life seems so meaningless. You’re a decent receptionist (well, decent is a stretch), but if Overhaul wanted someone to answer calls for him you’re pretty sure he would’ve asked.

Why did you spend your life learning such impractical skills? The four-year weekend course you took on horseback riding jumps to mind and you want to hit your head against the wall. Why didn’t you ask your father to sponsor a class in something that would actually matter in the long run? And what would even be useful to these people? Accounting? Bookkeeping? Extortion?

There’s nothing valuable you can offer. You’ve wasted your life, and now you’re going to pay for it. Seriously, the only thing you’re actually good at is keeping your boyfriends (or, rather, the men you cycle through once a month) happy until the novelty wears off and you get bored and move on to the next lovesick target—

—wait. Keeping your boyfriends happy. That’s a skill, isn’t it?

Once, a little bit after you turned eighteen, you’d had a rather illicit conversation with one of your more sexually adventurous friends about being a sugar baby. Your friend had just secured a very generous benefactor, and you’d been so intrigued by all the designer purses and vacations to Cabo that you’d almost considered trying it for yourself. She’d even helped you set up a profile on Seeking Arrangements that listed your physical features and interests, but you’d blanched when it came time to post photos.

“But why do men even like this?” you'd asked your friend after your picture-less profile received its dozenth unsolicited offer. “Rich, successful guys shouldn’t have so much trouble finding girlfriends that they have to resort to paying for sex.”

“It’s a power trip,” she’d replied. “Most men never get the chance to have a woman who’s willing to do and be whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You’re his ideal girlfriend, his therapist, his wife, and his stress relief all in one.”

At the time, you’d decided against it, deleting your profile and telling your friend you’d rather just keep taking advantage of your real father doting on you than have to fake orgasms for rich men in their 50’s. But back then, you’d had a choice; now that you’ve been kidnapped by a gang who wants you to get fucked by a bevy of strangers to pay off a debt you’ve never even heard of, you no longer have the privilege of a way out. Or, at least, the options are a lot less appealing than before.

You tilt your head back to Overhaul, eyeing him for the first time with real scrutiny instead of prideful disgust. Judging from what you can see of his face under the ornate bird mask (and again, what is with the freaking bird masks?), he’s fairly young, mid-twenties at the oldest. Short, sort of wavy dark hair (you’ve always had a thing for dark hair), a trim suit and tie, and those eyes. Like he can read your mind just looking at you.

He’s…handsome enough, you have to admit to yourself. But it’s not just that. There’s something pristine about him, something untouchable that commands discipline. He’s clean. You and him are probably the only clean things in this hovel of a room.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Overhaul says.

And now that you’ve got the idea in your head, it’s almost too embarrassing to meet his gaze. But you can do this; you have to do this. At least it’ll be your choice, and—you’re hoping—it’ll be better than the alternative.

“I could be yours,” you tell him, taking pride in the fact that your voice isn’t breaking.

His eyes narrow and you think god, his eyelashes are long. It’s not fair. Men never appreciate having long eyelashes. What is he thinking? Is he going to kill you for even suggesting it? But it’s too late now…you have to dig yourself a little deeper if you don’t want to go through with their original plan for debt fulfillment.

You force your muscles to relax, knowing this’ll be impossible to pull off if you’re tense and biting down on the words like they’re going to choke you. If you’re going to make him believe it, you have to make yourself believe it too. “You… This job must be hard. Even for a—a powerful man like you, it has to be stressful, right? Always looking out for the interests of the gang instead of your own…needs.”

Overhaul doesn’t move, but you’re so focused on him it would be impossible for you to miss the way a single muscle in his neck flexes. You’ve hit a nerve.

You take a cautious step toward him, trying to channel the sexually-liberated vixen you consider yourself when you’re not in your nightgown surrounded by men who could murder you with their bare hands and not miss a minute of sleep. “You’re always giving, aren’t you? Looking toward the future of the gang? Doesn’t it get frustrating when—when a pretty thing is in front of you and you don’t even get…a little taste of her?”

Oh god, you can feel the humiliated heat rushing to your cheeks. How can you be saying this? You’ve played the role of seductress plenty of times before, but never in such a risky situation. You just have to keep moving toward him and hope it feels authentic enough to convince him.

“You’ve worked hard. And…like he said, my—my body belongs to you.” Now you’re close enough to Overhaul and he hasn’t stopped you, so you lower yourself onto the floor, knees bumping softly into the cold surface. Kneeling between his legs.

Overhaul stares down at you, gaze as sharp and cold as before—and you’re sick with anxiety, so scared you can feel your hairs raising up on end—but if he wanted you to stop, he would have said something, right? So you shuffle a little closer and nuzzle your cheek over the inside of his clothed thigh like a kitten, then raise your head up to him to give him your best bedroom look, the one that says, I want you. I need you. No one but you. The look no man has ever been able to resist.

“…You deserve something to yourself, sir,” you murmur.

There’s a collective intake of breath as every person in the room simultaneously realizes what you’re offering. Overhaul’s expression doesn’t change, but once again, a tendon jumps out white under the skin of his throat and there’s a creak of latex on leather as his grip on the arm of the chair tightens.

“Damn,” Setsuno says under his breath from behind you. Someone whistles. You’re pretty sure you hear the word ‘slut’ being tossed around, but there’s reverence behind it.

“And what makes you think you’re so valuable?” Overhaul asks.

You close your eyes to ground yourself for a second. He’s interested, you know that much. You’ve never really had to convince someone to want you, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you only have to look at him for a second to know he does want you, which isn’t a surprise. Who wouldn’t?

“I’ll do anything you want, be anything you want,” you tell him, echoing your conversation with your friend back then. “Take out your anger on me if that’s what you’re into. When you’re tired of me, you can consider my debt paid and let me go.”

“And?” he prompts.

‘And’? And what? You’re offering yourself to him, your body and your mind—what more can he possibly ask from you? You cast your thoughts around, wondering what else you have to give him. “And…and I’ll do it willingly. You, um—you look like a man who appreciates obedience.”

And that’s it. Your last shred of pride is gone. Not only are you offering yourself up to a man to use as his personal stress doll, you’re saying you’ll be compliant every step of the way. Knowing yourself, you’re pretty sure that’s impossible, but you just need to make him believe it long enough for you to find a way out of here. You can pretend to enjoy getting fucked by a gangster a few times. You’ll live.

But you’re naive. And with the stream of thoughts pushing through your head, you never really consider one thing, one essential thing: how you look pleading up at him in that pale pink nightdress—soft, pure, immaculate against the filth of the underworld, the only clean body that Overhaul’s seen in a long time.

And you’re right. He is a man who appreciates obedience.

“Willingly…so you’d be willing to prove it.”

Your head jerks up and down in response. Yes! He’s taking the bait, now I just have to get him alone and—

“Then demonstrate.”

When a moment passes and you don’t move, Overhaul tips his head to the side, gaze still locked on you, and gestures vaguely at his lap. You blink and then shy back, shrinking under the hungry gazes of the onlookers. “You can’t mean—in front of them?”

“And here I thought you were going to be obedient.” There’s no mercy, no amusement in his voice. No hint of humanity.

So he’s serious. He wants you to give him a blowjob in front of—how many? one, two three, four—four other men!? Your first instinct is to jump back away from him and your next is to slap him for even suggesting it; you can actually hear the jingle of your cuffs as you attempt to raise your hand. You’ve gotten a little kinky before—blindfolds, vibrators, maybe a hand tied to the bedpost with a Hermès scarf once or twice, but this is a whole different level. And the way they’re all looking at you…like they’re itching to see you brought down. How absolutely disgusting.

But Overhaul’s waiting for your answer, and you know full well that you’re not going to deny him.

“O-Of course.” You lean forward over the seat of the chair so your face is just inches from his lap. “Um. My hands...?”

They’re still cuffed behind you, but it seems like they’re going to stay that way when Overhaul gives a curt shake of his head. “Use your mouth.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. How are you supposed to—? Without your hands? It doesn’t even seem like he’s going to undo his pants for you. It’s like he wants to humiliate you…oh, wait. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s clear that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

You give him another doe-eyed glance, bidding him to at least undo his belt, but he remains unmoved. Bastard.

After aiming another glare at him (because as obedient as you’re attempting to be, you’ve never been good at concealing your emotions) you lean deeper in and take the stiff leather of his belt between your teeth, gently easing it out of the buckle and trying to ignore the mixture of earthy and metallic tastes it leaves on your tongue. It takes a few tries, but eventually you’ve got the tail of the belt out of the buckle and you pull your head back to guide the metal down until the belt is hanging open from its loops.

A rush of accomplishment surges through you when you get it open, and then you want to slap yourself. Accomplishment? From doing this with your mouth like an animal—like a dog? You can hear laughter and mocking encouragement from the men watching, but you steel yourself and dip back in to get Overhaul’s pants undone. The button is tricky, especially with your face nudging into the hard muscle of his abdomen through his shirt, but somehow you manage to tug the fabric slit over the button and then—delicately, delicately—clamp the zipper between your teeth and peel it downward.

“Oh, she’s good,” someone says from the background. Setsuno. You look up warily, but Overhaul’s eyes haven’t moved from you.

Now that you’ve got his pants open, you’re face to face (literally) with what you’re going to have to deal with. The outline of his cock is bulging the fabric of his boxers outward, and he’s not even half erect. You snatch a look back up at him—and damn it, you have to stop doing that, because every time you look into those golden eyes and that stupid bird mask you feel like a lamb looking at a bird of prey right before it snatches you from your safe little lamb-house in the meadow and—fuck, you just have to get on with it.

So you dip down and mouth over him through the fabric, spreading the flat of your tongue over the length of his thick cock. Your mouth feels like you’ve been eating cotton (probably because they drugged you earlier) but you force yourself to salivate, letting drool spill over your tongue and dampen his boxers. When you duck and spread your lips down on the place you can feel the tip stretching out, you know the friction must feel good, because despite the lack of even so much of a deep breath from the man above you, his cock is getting harder.

You nudge your mouth over the tent between Overhaul’s legs again, letting the heat of your breath wash over him—but when he doesn’t do anything, you pull back and blink up at his face. Does he expect you to get him off through his underwear? You could, but most of your moves depend on skin-to-skin contact. There’s no way you can get his cock out with your mouth like you undid his pants, so…what? “Are—are you going to take it out?”

Overhaul brings a gloved hand to his face to rub absently at one of the straps on his mask. “…Beg,” he tells you.

Your mouth drops open and you reel back from his lap like he asked you to lick the dirt off the floor. What!? He can’t seriously expect you to—to beg him to put his dick in your mouth when you’re clearly disgusted at the whole situation. When he doesn’t give any indication of retracting the statement, you can’t help the mocking sneer that forms over your face. “Please, sir,” you spit, and a deaf man could hear the spite in your voice.

Now, that gets a reaction. Overhaul’s eyes flash and you take a certain degree of pride back at the anger you’ve clearly inspired in him. But it’s extinguished as soon as you see it, and then he’s reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your head back and rubbing his thumb over your lower lip.

“I think you can do better than that, princess,” he says, and you can hear your own mocking tone reflected back in his voice. “Unless you’d like me to give my men a turn?”

This, more than anything, scares you. He must be able to feel the way your spine goes stiff, adrenaline rushing, your fight-or-flight instinct kicking in at the prospect of what he’s threatening.

“Each of them, one by one. Between the four of them, I think they could cure that smart mouth…although they might just break you in the process,” he continues, and then his thumb is pressing into your lip, into your mouth, and you loosen your jaw to let him in. You can taste the rubbery latex of his gloves and the other men mutter agreement, encouraging their leader to turn you over to them, and you want to cry.

But you hold the tears back. “Please, sir! Please, please may I s-suck your cock sir? Please!” Your voice is more terrified than obedient, but that’s probably what he’s into anyway. When he doesn’t say anything, you babble on, unwilling to let yourself get gangbanged by a group of men who could probably wreck your pussy in a single round. “Please, please, Mr.—Mr. Overhaul, um, boss? M-Master?”

“Sir will do just fine,” Overhaul says, apparently satisfied, and he pulls his hand away from your face to free his cock from his boxers.

You let out a hot sigh of relief and angle yourself back toward his lap so you can zero in on his cock (and, hopefully, do a little to block out how sickeningly degrading all of this is: how easy it is for him to threaten you; how he has all the power and you have none; how the men around you are goading you, taunting you and calling you things that should get their mouths washed out with soap). You can focus on this, and this, at least, you’re good at. You’ve always been good with your mouth.

It’s a nice dick, too, you have to admit to yourself as you stare at it. Perfect length, girth, and a thick, cut head that you know just by looking that you’re going to have to stretch your jaw to get around. All his hair is neatly trimmed and groomed, and he even smells good, clean and fresh like soap. You’ve never been in front of a dick that didn’t smell like day-old ball sweat, so this is a first. It’s got a nice upward curve, too, and there’s a bead of pearly precum oozing out of the tip. The kind of cock that’s made for penetrative orgasms—

No. Fuck. You cannot be thinking this. You cannot allow yourself to lust after a gang leader who thinks of you as little more than an interactive sex doll. A tingle of blood rushes to your cheeks as you feel wetness pool in your panties and you adjust your stance, shuffling your thighs apart under the pretense of getting closer and hoping Overhaul doesn’t notice.

If he notices, he does the merciful thing and keeps quiet (which makes you think he has no idea you’re feeling the way you’re feeling, because he’s probably never chosen to do the merciful thing in his life). He does, however, shift one of his knees farther apart to accommodate you as you crawl close enough to him to get your head all the way between his legs.

So now you’re staring up at that unfairly pretty cock and wondering how the fuck this is supposed to start, but—best just get on with it. Pretend it’s not him, pretend it’s…no, wait, pretend it is him, it is Overhaul, the same bastard who’s looking down at you like you’re trash, except pretend you’re in control. Because no matter how many orders he gives, once you’ve got his cock in his mouth he’ll have to be the weak one. Right?

Lightly, slowly, you trace the tip of your tongue in a wet path up the underside of his cock, sliding up from the hilt to caress every bulging vein with all the delicacy and accuracy of a surgeon. When you reach the tip, you flatten your tongue to curve it around that bulbous head and then slip it off, the suction providing a wet smacking sound as your skin leaves his.

The breath of his barely-heavier exhale ruffles your hair and you relish the knowledge that he’s getting impatient. Yes. The bastard can wait.

You kiss the tip of his cock, barely moving your lips around the slit, only enough to let your tongue flick out against the precum and gather the bitter liquid up in your mouth. And then—right when he’s getting annoyed, when you can tell by the tension in his body that he’s five seconds away from shoving your head down to fuck your face—you duck closer, relax your throat, and swallow.

Like a fucking python. Or so you’ve been told.

The exhale that escapes him isn’t light this time. You can almost hear the barest hint of a groan under his breath, but you’re more focused on holding down your gag reflex as you let that heavy cock hit the back of your throat. Once he’s all the way down (or at least as far as you can get him), you rock yourself back an inch and then take him deeper, forcing yourself to hold still so he can feel the walls of your throat convulse around him, sucking him in, dry-gagging on the mass that’s filling you up.

“Fuuuuck,” you hear someone whine, and it’s not even Overhaul. It’s one of the men watching, and you feel a perverse mixture of hatred and arrogance rise up in you.

Overhaul’s cock is too big for you to properly moan around it, but you give it a go anyway so he can feel the vibration of your voice through his skin. You’re rewarded with a tangible twitch with it sitting on your tongue, and—oh—your mouth is watering out of where you’re clenching down on him at the back of your throat.

Spittle slips out over your lower lip and onto your chin, but you ignore it in favor of jerking your head up and down in fractional strokes, trying your absolute best to get yourself down to his base but knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit anyway, not with how good your throat feels around what you’re capable of stuffing in.

What were you saying about ‘valuable’, sir? you think, and then you pull your head off his cock, so slow it’s almost cruel, sucking your cheeks in and hollowing out so those wet walls are rubbing up on every millimeter of his skin. When you reach the tip, you savor it, letting your tongue do the dirty work and looking up at him through your lash extensions before you release him with a nasty wet pop.

“Holy fuck, can I have her next?” one of the other men says, but you and Overhaul are too focused on each other to even look and see who’s talking.

His gaze is trained firmly down at you, and—no way, damn it—he looks bored, like he could be waiting in line at the DMV instead of getting sucked off by you, a girl who’s been complimented by every man she’s ever been with (including her first) on her bj technique. You know he’s feeling it—he can fake calm, but he can’t fake the way his cock’s throbbing under your tongue as you lick up the shaft. Still, now that you’ve got it in your head that Overhaul’s not going to make a sound, all you can think about is forcing him to moan. Let him look weak in front of all his little lackeys.

With renewed vigor, you lap up the length of Overhaul’s cock in sloppy dabs, leaving strings of saliva dripping off your mouth and his cock only to slurp them up, audibly, wiggling your tongue over the tip when you reach it. And that, that gets him, because you feel more than see the buck of his hips into your face as he hisses out a curse.

And—oh dear, maybe you shouldn’t have done that—because the next thing you feel is Overhaul looming forward over you, hand gripping the back of your head, and is he going to force you down? You hate that—so you take the initiative, tilting forward to take him into your mouth again, head bobbing up and down so quickly that your hair is falling all over your face, but it’s okay, because he’s got you, he’s got you, got his hands combed through your hair holding it out of your face, pulling so lightly it barely even hurts, but it does hurt, and he’s guiding you up and down on his cock and it’s hitting the back of your throat every time, and—and it hurts.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

“Take it deeper,” Overhaul instructs, almost encouraging, although you’re not given the option to pull off because he’s holding you down, pushing you firmly toward the base of his cock. You sputter around it, gagging, and you’re almost fucking choking, and he won’t let you up.

God, you’re not—not breathing, you can feel your throat choking down on him—“breathe through your nose,” he says, and this man, this villain has no idea what he’s fucking talking about, because you’re trying, eyes stinging and then you can feel tears down your cheeks. You try to squirm back on your knees, but somehow the combined force of every muscle in your body is outmatched by his single hand on the back of your head—and—and—you squeeze your eyes shut, relax, open your throat as much as you can and—

Overhaul forces your mouth down to the hilt.

Fuck, is he going to keep you there? You can’t, you can’t—if you could move, you’d be shaking your head and begging him to let you stop and as it is you’re whimpering around his cock. Your throat is making gagging noises and you’re crying, actually crying, actually fucking crying on a man’s dick. So this is what it feels like to be used?

“Good.” There’s something lower and darker in Overhaul’s voice, a husky undertone from the growl he’s trying to suppress. “Hold still…remember, you asked for this.”

You did. You asked for it. Begged for it. Pleaded.

“Want me to forgive your father’s debt…? You’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls out an inch just to ram himself back in. You make a weak attempt to move your tongue around his shaft and you can feel the shudder all the way through him, his cock twitching where it’s locked in your throat. “Mm…good girl. Just a little—little longer—“

His fingers are tightening in your hair, curling around the strands and tugging instead of just applying pressure to your head. He’s close, you think, and then you struggle back, not wanting him to cum down your throat, what if you choke on it? Like, really choke? You don’t want it, don’t want his cum in your stomach, but then he sighs and tells you again that you’re a good girl, and ohfuckohfuck you must be so scared you’re desperate for praise because you feel heat rush into your cheeks and your cunt when he says it and you try to move your tongue like you did earlier and his hips jerk forward and—he cums. In your mouth.

It’s salty, you think. The next thing you think is that you want to gag, because you’ve never had cum in your mouth before. For all your sexual experimentation, you’ve never let a man cum down your throat like this, always telling them it shoot it on your tits or whatever because you are not a person who should have semen in her mouth, much less ingest it.

But right now, with Overhaul lazily dragging your head up and down for a last couple pumps on his softening dick, your choice isn’t spit or swallow. It’s swallow or choke.

Hot. Thick. The texture is slimy, so viscous you can feel it going down your throat in strings. Part of you wants to throw up. It’s repulsive. Filthy. You hate this.

Part of you has to shift your position again so you don’t have to feel your own wetness slicking up the insides of your thighs.

How. Is. This. Possible. You may have just had to swallow your pride (and not just that), but what about your dignity? You’re a good person…okay, well, even if you’re not a ‘good person’ per se, you don’t hurt anyone with your selfishness. You don’t deserve to be kept as a pet by a sadistic bastard who gets off on watching you almost pass out on his cock, and you certainly don’t deserve the humiliation of finding that you’re turned on by it.

And yet. Here you are. Still held securely in place until Overhaul slides you off him. As soon as your mouth is free you suck in a dizzyingly deep breath, but even that is too much for your battered throat and the breath turns into a cough; you instinctively fold down away from Overhaul so the mixed saliva and cum you’re hacking out spatters in cloudy white flecks across the floor instead of on his clothing.

“Stop that,” Overhaul scolds, hauling you back up by your hair and forcing your mouth closed with a hand on your jaw. “If you make a mess, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Considering what he just made you do to him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s implying you’ll have to lick it off the floor. You clench your jaw, holding back the convulsions of your throat as best you can, and hope he doesn’t press the issue.

Now that you’ve got your coughing under control, you can start to sense things that you had been tuning out before: the men hooting and wolf-whistling and applauding your performance, the traitorously persistent throb of your clit pulsing under your panties, and Overhaul’s hand releasing your chin to pet down your neck. “Now. What do you say when someone gives you a meal?”

Just you wait, bastard. I’m going to tie you to your bed and set fire to it. But you’ve got the sense that that answer won’t go over well, so you take a deep breath and look up at him again, meeting those piercing gold eyes with your own. “Thank you, sir,” you say in a soft whisper because it’s all your abused throat can manage.

“That’s right.” His hands feel colder than the concrete under your legs as he spreads his hand down your neck, only to toy with one of the lacy pink straps of your nightdress. “Stand up.”

You stand shakily, too cowed to even consider stepping back from him. Without warning (much less permission), Overhaul lifts the hem of your stupidly short dress up past your thighs, exposing your panties and lower belly to view.

“Hold this in your mouth,” he says, and after only a few seconds of hesitation you open up and bite down on the fabric so you’re effectively holding up the skirt for him. Overhaul skims gloved hands down the sides of your hips and comes to a rest when he reaches your panties—and why did you have to wear these today? Shiny red satin in the front; the back is just flowers worked in crimson lace. You know exactly how good you look in these panties, and judging by the things Overhaul’s men are saying, they’re more than appreciative of the view.

But Overhaul ignores them in favor of hooking his fingers under the elastic and pulling the panties down until they’re resting stretched between your upper thighs. You don’t have to see them to know there’s a string of slick connecting the lips of your cunt to the fabric, betraying in full technicolor detail how turned on you’ve gotten just from sucking him off. He gazes down at your pussy and then up to you as if waiting for you to admit it, but you stay silent.

“Well, well. What a nicely-trained slut I’ve found myself.” He gracelessly pulls the panties the rest of the way down your legs and lets them fall to the ground. “Do you always get this wet when you let your boyfriends fuck that smart mouth?”

It takes you a second to comprehend that he’s expecting an answer. “N-No, sir,” you reply, voice muffled by the fabric you’re still holding between your teeth.

“I suppose I can’t leave you like this, not after you took me so nicely.”

Does he mean he’s going to get you off? No freaking way. You drop the hem of your dress, let it flutter down over your thighs, try to scramble back, but his hand on your waist keeps you from moving. “I— It’s okay, I don’t need—“

“No, I think you do. I think I’m going to reward my pet for a job well done.” He leans back, eyeing you without sympathy. “I’d have you touch yourself, but—“

The mere possibility that he might remove the handcuffs has you straining against them again, and the sound of metal against metal rings out from behind you.

“—but, I think it’s best to keep the cuffs on for a few days…until you’ve settled down.”

Days? He can’t leave you in chains for days, helpless and powerless, so easy to take advantage of. “You can’t,” you whimper, and even though you mean for it to be a decisive statement, with your throat ravaged and hoarse it’s downright pathetic. Overhaul doesn’t even bother reprimanding you for talking back.

“My men have been patient,” he muses, and an enthusiastic wave of agreement wells up from the others. “Any of them would be happy to do it.”

You may have been through a lot in the past hour alone, but there is no way you’re going to let those rowdy criminals have their way with you. You send a nervous glance around the room and as predicted, not a single one of them looks like they have the slightest shred of control over themselves.

None of them…except Overhaul.

Still eased back in his chair, he looks just as relaxed and unaffected as he did when he was explaining your father’s debts to you. But there’s something flickering in his eyes, something he isn’t going to say to you, isn’t going to say out loud. A challenge.

Maybe, once again, he’s waiting for you to ask for it yourself. And if it’s a choice between him and one of the grimy ruffians who’ve been looking at you like dogs look at meat, you know what you’d prefer. Well—really, you’d prefer option C: none of the above (your current state might be uncomfortable, but you’re not so wanton that you’d rather cum in front of strangers than keep your legs together). Unfortunately, you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that ‘no’ is no longer an option.

Overhaul’s stare flicks from you to an unseen figure behind you, and you can tell he’s about to summon one of them over so you force yourself to move, lurching forward and climbing into his lap to straddle one of his thighs with all the grace you’re capable of. You feel the stir in the air when he inhales sharply, surprised, and his masked face is so close to your neck that you wonder if he can smell the lotion you put on before you went to bed last night.

It’s one of your favorite scents: vanilla, lilac, orange blossoms. You bought it because it smelled pure.

“Please, sir, I don’t want them,” you breathe next to his ear, injecting every ounce of sexual frustration you’re feeling into the needy tones of your voice. “I’m yours. I belong to you, just you. No one else—please, sir…Overhaul.”

He’s quiet for a long, tense moment, and you think he’s going to hit you, or maybe even kill you for your disobedience. Push you off his lap at least. But just when you’re teetering on the edge of jumping back from him and begging for forgiveness for talking out of turn, you feel it—a low rumble of laughter from deep in his chest.

Big, cold hands wrap around the sides of your ribcage under your breasts and his fingernails dig into you through the layers of latex and fabric. He tilts forward, forcing you to arch away and all you can think about is how horribly weak you are compared to him. Are you trembling? Will he be angry if you feels how afraid you are?

“You know, I guess I’ll keep you after all,” he hums, stroking his fingers through your hair and down your neck. “How does that sound, princess? I think you’d like that very much, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” The response comes all too easily, even if the words taste bitter in your mouth. You’ve never said the word ‘sir’ so much in your life…but as he repositions you on his lap and slides a single hand up the inside of your thigh under your dress, you bite your lip and decide to hold back your protest.

If you’re going to have to learn manners, you’d better do it sooner rather than later. Something tells you Overhaul’s not going to accept any less than your best behavior if you want to pay off your debt.