#phallus the man

[shivroy]

gregory oil caricature!! i want to jam a lit stick of dynamite betwixt his ajar lips (in a homoerotic way)

[baconcolazz]

t-this is mai cwingy suction cup man headcanon 🥺🥺🥺🥺 plz no hate I only smol bean artist... 😔😔😔 /j

did I do good at fucking him up entirely yes or yes

[men-of-colors]

Black Sundae

ମାର୍କୋ କୋର୍ଟେସ୍। ୨୪୦୬୦୫

[kharrneth]

so when are you going to drw khornes dick?

At some point

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Theseus is dead. You’re escorting the Minotaur, more beast than a man, out of the Labyrinth. The problem is, he seems to be more interested in what’s between your legs than in his mission of killing the notorious king of Crete… (12 k. Minotaur is not an actual hybrid in this fic. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Part 1 here.) Tags/warnings: Shameless smut mdni, dubious consent, extremely possessive behaviour, abduction, first time (König & reader are both virgins), hugs & cuddles, washing blood off your monster boyfriend, awkward flirting, semi-rough sex, shifting power dynamics, sexist insults & slurs (the citizens of Crete do not approve of your choices), implied cannibalism, fluffy ending. Mythical AU.

The candle goes out before you reach the surface.

To someone else, it would be the end of the world: to you, it’s only a hindrance, a nuisance, mostly. 

You’re not easily distressed. If you were, you wouldn’t be in the service of the greatest goddess of the Underworld. And you’re not mourning losing the sight of your warmly illuminated beast... You’re only worried about what he will do once the darkness descends. Whether he will forget about his vow, whether the baser instincts take over him once the darkness falls.

And darkness is not capable of making you lost: you can always follow the string in your hand. But without light, it’s difficult to predict the Bull’s moves: whether he decides to maim or fuck you against the wall, you can never tell. He hasn’t lived in the real world among people; he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong and what’s expected of him. Even the best of men can succumb to the demands of the flesh, so what power would a Bull Man have against his animal wants? No one ever taught him to respect the gods, let alone the maidens who serve them...

Then again, if a simple candle was the only thing that kept you alive, then what’s the point of lamenting the loss of it? Your life was already forfeit when you chose to descend here.

So you let it go: as always, the greatest lesson in life is to simply let go. Of control, of judgment, of fear, of hope. 

He doesn’t say a thing when the light flickers, then fades. The candle goes out in silence, and you let it drop before the remaining wax burns your palm.

And it’s not the absence of light, but strength, that forces you on your knees before even an hour has passed. There’s still a long way to go, and the yarn is like a thin string of hope in your hand, but you’re too exhausted, too worn out, too hungry and too tired to go on.

The Bull Man doesn’t object to your suggestion to lay down and sleep for a while. He has walked behind you in silence the whole day. Or night… You can’t tell the difference; you lost count somewhere along the way down here. The air is stale and humid, and there’s no torch, not a single candle anywhere and even if there were, you wouldn’t do anything with them without a flint. 

The horror is kept at bay only through your numerous exercises with the goddess who introduced you to darkness many, many moons ago. You were initiated during the dark Moon, the new Moon, the blood Moon, introduced to the mysteries of the maiden, mother and crone, to the secrets of both the living and the dead. You’re not afraid, but your body still warns you of danger: you just don’t know if it’s a memory from childhood or a reaction to the Bull, panting behind you – out of lust or exertion, you don’t even know. Someone who wasn’t a maiden probably could tell… At times, you curse the fact that there hasn’t been a single phallus inside you because men too possess knowledge. Taking a man into your bed would have initiated you to a different set of mysteries, but now, you are poking blind. 

The Bull Man is an animal, you remind yourself. The longer you stay in his company, the more he starts to resemble a human, even if he is a man of few words. How he even remembers them is another mystery: you thought he was sent down here as a young boy. He speaks oddly but eloquently, a remnant of his noble descent, perhaps. Or perhaps he has listened to the people speaking in the Labyrinth, eavesdropped his victims an hour or two before killing them. Whatever the reason, you have to constantly tie your tongue because there’s simply no point in talking to a beast. The less you know about him and his past, the better.

You ready yourself for sleep, but the cursed cold of the tunnels keeps your body awake. Your flesh is human even if your mind is forged to withstand hunger, thirst and pain. Endurance against cold was never your strong suit, and you miss the heat of the sun, the warmth of it on your skin, even the ample light it gives. You, a lover of the moon, missing the heat of Apollo… It’s a joke, surely.

On the stone floor, it’s even colder, the rough, damp ground making your very bones ache. How on Hecate’s name has the beast survived this place?

“Bull Man,” you speak into the darkness, thick like an impenetrable wall and thin like a virgin’s veil.

“Maiden,” he echoes with a dark, low growl, slightly amused by the name you’ve selected for him.

“Are you cold?” You whisper.

Perhaps he doesn’t quite understand the question or why you asked it. It doesn’t matter: you have to swallow your pride and ask for his help if you’re going to survive this dark prison.

“I don’t get cold,” he finally responds.

“Good. I need your heat.” 

The silence drags on, and you fear he has misunderstood you again, but then he speaks again, with the same slightly amused tone as before.

“Come take it.”

You’re not sure if you’ve completely lost your mind, crawling to him through the uneven floor of the Labyrinth. Who knows what he will do to you once he gets those arms of iron around you? You’re placing your maidenhood, your whole body at his mercy. And you’re not even sure if it’s a he, if this thing is human at all. 

Human or animal, your hand meets the bull’s head on the way to him. He has taken it off, then... It’s not a part of him, just like you suspected. Maybe he is just a giant, daunting man, born from whatever forbidden desire Pasiphae had. Who knows if she only went to a foreign lover’s arms when her husband was at war? Who knows if King Minos has trouble getting his phallus up… These things happen: women get pregnant from their lovers, they do desperate things to pacify their husbands. And you don’t need a bull to get yourself an heir...

You feel his heat before you feel his skin: the Minotaur is verily blazing. He has gotten used to the cold, it seems, his body like a small bonfire in the clammy tunnel. 

“Cold little female,” he comments when you snuggle towards him shyly, thoroughly aware of the uninviting chill of your body. 

You settle next to him, every muscle in your body tight like a bowstring, your breaths shallow when he gives you a welcoming rumble. Goosebumps prickle across your skin and your throat goes dry, the thick swallow in the tunnel echoing around you like a thief.

Arms like iron go around you, and his body is taut, just like yours, but for a whole different reason entirely. He’s not afraid or nervous; he’s just… big. Pure muscle, his whole body thick, the stock and heat of him remind you of the sun. A miniature sun down here in these dark tunnels, but while you start to slowly soften in his arms, a different threat is already emerging. It doesn’t take long before his cock stiffens against you, and with the scarce clothing you both have, you can feel its every excited twitch.

Artemis… Protect me from this beast. Turn him into a dog if he tries to penetrate me. Let him rip my throat instead… 

You’ve never prayed to the Virgin Goddess; you don’t know if she can even hear you from down here. But Hecate would only laugh if this Bull decided to breed you. No mercy would arrive from that direction: she would either send a disease of blisters upon the Minotaur for touching her chosen or then she would cackle like an old woman, thousand times raped.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your kindness will distract him from what’s happening downstairs.

“My pleasure,” he grumbles, mimicking the words he probably heard as a child in his father’s great hall. 

It sends a chill down your spine and butterflies into your heart to hear him speak like a polite man of court. And again, you think of asking him about his childhood... His mother, his father, the things he remembers from the surface. How he survived here without water, if there are underground springs here somewhere. Whether he eats humans like they say... If he ever embraced the dead women he killed. 

“Can you do it again,” he rumbles against you, cutting you away from your grotesque thoughts.

“...Do what again?” 

“Touch me… With your hand.”

His words are blunt now, his speech clumsy. But the way he says it is not an order. It’s an odd beg, more like. Laced with hope and wishes far away from greed. This Bull is never greedy, per se… He’s just lacking. Starved, for so many things that you fear there’s not enough time nor kindness to give him what he needs.

Your pulse flutters when you slowly lift your hand and caress the strong cords of muscle that make his neck. The rumbling returns; it turns into a low purr as the beast relaxes under your touch. Something softens inside you when he sighs from relief. His unbridled happiness tugs at your heart, trying to yank open something forbidden. It’s the softest violation you’ve ever felt: to be held by a giant killer having a roaring erection, while the said killer clearly enjoys your caress like it’s the touch of Aphrodite herself…

You even stroke his face. His jaw, unclenching under your touch; his cheek, covered with what you suppose is simply a wild, overgrown beard. 

“Your hand,” he groans softly, “makes me sleepy and warm…”

The cold, uncaring goddess recedes. The burdens of past, present and future dissolve. Softness takes place in your heart; the iron locks give in like brittle brass. A smile plays on your lips as you continue to pet him softly, lulling you both to sleep with your voice.

“Then sleep, Bull of Crete...”

…

You wake up to his cock pressing against you.

Not against your stomach like when you went to sleep – that you could do with – but against your cunt, barely veiled by the thin linen of your dress.

The panic is soon wrestled down with reason: you tell yourself it’s just a cock. It’s just him. You’re simply in the Minotaur’s arms, and he’s sound asleep still; there’s no reason to buck and jerk and scream. 

The darkness feels like a safe womb now, but with nothing to lock your gaze to, you have to take a moment to ground yourself into reality. And the first thing you ground into is a thick cockhead, pressing fast into your nether lips. He’s practically at the gates, and you’re lucky he’s still asleep.

It’s perhaps your fault this happened in the first place: you notice you’ve dragged your thigh over his hip; as if wanting him to fuck you in your sleep… You embrace him like Helen of Troy, and he holds you through his sleep like a man in love, perfectly content with napping on the cold ground with you.

“Mm…” The beast stirs, probably noticing how the female in his arms is tense as a rod. “You smell like you want to fuck…”

“No I don’t,” you hurry to whisper.

Gods curse this man’s ability to smell everything from miles away. Blood and humans and, apparently, a woman at her most receptive. 

What if he can actually smell the wetness between your legs?

“We need to go,” you slowly remove your leg from on top of his waist, hoping it would go unnoticed that you were clutching him like a lover. You have no such luck: he grabs your thigh and draws it back, sets it safe and snug around his waist while adjusting his grip on you, now hugging you entirely like a lover would.

“I want to mate with you,” he says softly. “You want to mate too. Why go?”

He sounds so adorable when he’s still in the process of waking up to a new day. Drowsy and sweet, voice husky from sleep, body warm as can be, the hard-on between his legs happy and stiff.

“I thought you wanted to kill the king,” you try to point out. 

“This is more important,” he gruffs. “Urgent.”

The cock pushes further up and against you, now spreading your folds under the dress, trying to penetrate into your heat. Your eyes go wide as thick need pools down to meet his greed. His body, his cock makes your head go dull for a moment; you feel like you’re not even capable of thinking actual thoughts.

“No, it’s not. We need to get up.”

You stiffen in his arms, push yourself away, and to your surprise, he actually lets you go. Reluctantly and with a hollow grunt, but he lets you go. 

You rise with a wobble, and adjust your dress, your head spinning from his advances. You swear he becomes more man-like every day, every passing hour, even. Or is it just you who’s changing…? 

The Bull Man is up before you get to ponder on that thought for too long. Your heart and head struggle to find their footing for a moment, your legs are so weak you feel like fainting. He catches you before you fall, the warm, thick arms closing around you with stout affection.

“You need more heat?” He asks softly.

You look up out of habit, even if you can't see his eyes, covered by the carcass again because his voice is muffled.

“No… I’m hungry.”

He’s silent for a moment, probably thinking what he could do to help the situation. You fear he will suggest you go back to visit his “pantry” and eat whatever horrible, half-rotten man-flesh he might have in store there, but he only holds you close to prevent you from sliding back to the ground.

“Hmm. No mice up here,” he ponders. 

“You eat mice…?”

“Sometimes.”

You leave it at that: you don’t want to know what he’s had to do to sustain himself down here. You don’t even have a fire to cook the vermin, even if you would be ready to eat even those after another day or two without food. 

“Not a long way up,” he says. “We will reach the sun soon. Then I’ll find you something to eat.”

“How do you know that…?”

“The air smells different.”

You sigh and search for the string, your lifeline to the outside world. You can’t wait to get out of here, and with both hurry and an odd dread, you hike for what seems like another whole day. Tension, hunger and thirst distort your thoughts, and you’re sure by now that the time flows differently here in the Underworld. With no small amount of pride, you feel accomplished to have survived this place so far. Even gods have had to do some tricks to escape the nether worlds: it is no small feat to charm the Minotaur and then walk out of here unharmed. 

To your knowledge, you’re the only one who has ever escaped the Labyrinth. You haven’t even had time to think about what you will unleash with you… The demon that walks on your heels will take his revenge, not only on the king but on the city who threw him here. 

Well. It’s their problem now. Minos and Pasiphae simply have to deal with their successor. The world will simply have to deal with the Underworld’s wrath. 

And oh, how Hecate would laugh if she saw this monster prince of Crete escape his prison because of you – the feared Minotaur set free, only because he’s mesmerized by a woman. You suspect he would have his cock jumping for any girl, though. It's not because you're an exceptional sorceress that he follows you: it's your cunt he's after. And it shouldn’t make you feel jealous that he probably gets distracted the moment he sees a better offer walk by.

But it does. In your darkest wishes, you would keep the Bull Man all to yourself. Get him a leash, perhaps... Feed him with your own hands and let him grope you in the dark, watch him go wild from lust when you finally give him access to your cunt. 

Many would hardly think you’re a virgin if they took a peek inside your head. But the things you’ve seen and done, the white bulls you’ve slaughtered for the dark Goddess, adorning them with cypress wreaths before slashing their throats open, would turn any woman bleak and twisted like this. For once, you would like to save the bull from slaughter.

When you see the first evidence of light, your body lets out a sigh it has been holding ever since you arrived here. Seeing the sun gives you more strength than any food or meal, and you pick up your pace while the Minotaur behind you begins to hesitate. 

“It’s too bright,” he says before you’ve even walked out of the tunnel, now turning into a vast cave, the entrance to the Labyrinth. 

You turn around to look and stop in your tracks when you see the fear in his eyes is acute. It’s mixed with wonder, the curiosity wrestling away doubt slowly but surely. He only needs a little nudge, a gentle pull, an enticing little smile and eyes that he can trust.

“You’ll get used to it soon,” you extend your hand. 

He takes a step, then another, then another, until he reaches your outstretched fingers, and hand in hand you walk out of the Labyrinth and into the bright morning sun, burning over the kingdom of Crete.

He’s only a breath away from panicking, but covers it well. You wonder if it’s truly the light that’s too bright or if the feeling of being so exposed is what makes him so afraid. Clearly, the vast space opening up before him is intimidating. 

There are grassy plains as far as the eye can see, little hills that dot the horizon, and skies so expansive and bright it must hurt his eyes. Goats are grazing under the sun, trees are bending in the wind, the rustling of leaves and the sound of birds calling him to look in all directions as he tries to make some sense of his surroundings.

“It’s alright,” you give his palm a soft squeeze, and the way he looks there under the sun, so big and powerful and able, and still so utterly lost, is giving you heartache you haven’t known since you were a child.

“There’s… so many colours,” he says, looking at the blue summer sky, the deep olive greens, the dirty whiteness of the goats, the flowers upon the grass. A butterfly, flying past, yellow like the citrus that people harvest from a few miles from here. A big blackbird with an orange beak, swooping down to catch a cricket, the slate grey pigeons flying so close to the sun that he has to shield his eyes even if they’re already safe and sheltered under the bull head.

Seeing his wonder and awe makes you look at the scenery so differently that it burns, it actually hurts: there’s so much beauty in the world, and you have always taken it for granted. Cursed the rain and the storms, cursed the droughts, cursed the gods for sending down another famine, when in truth, the world was filled with abundance, of colours, of life and joy… And all you’ve done is worship darkness. Now the darkness is out: it’s standing next to you, watching the view of your mundane everyday life like it’s nothing short of a miracle.

And when you turn back to look at him again, his eyes are upon you.

“What?” You ask, freshly caught in your moment of weakness.

“You are pretty,” he says, eyes wrinkling with delight under the mask. 

Gods damn him… 

He doesn’t know that human men don’t act like this, talk like this, or if they do, there’s usually something vile involved behind it all. He doesn’t know how to play games, he was never introduced to the lies and deceit of the world.

The Bull of Crete only looks at you with soft fondness in his stare – he doesn’t understand that he should cover that softness as well if he intends to win. Any woman could put a leash on him before another moon has passed, but he doesn’t seem to care. And it’s not even heat or hunger that makes you weak this time... It’s those eyes, looking at you with more and more warmth.

“Nonsense,” you huff without a voice, and turn towards the old road with an adoring bull on your heels.

The cold sigh of the underworld is quickly left behind you as you walk up the old carriage road, nearly grown in with weeds. The Labyrinth is located miles away from civilization, but the people living in these hills are used to the cold cave by now. They trust that the Minotaur will never escape and only turn away their heads and close the doors of their huts when the screaming, crying human sacrifices are delivered to the mouth of the cave. Little do they know that the monster is now looking at their little hills and goats with delight, not bloodlust.

For the Minotaur is fascinated with your world: he has to touch every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass, it seems. The goats are afraid of him, but one small nanny is bold enough to come and sniff his hand. Perhaps it remembers that beings walking on two feet give her apples sometimes, and the giant studies this small white animal with gentle curiosity, allows the goat to smell his hand, only chuckles when the goat gives out a little scoff when she notices there are no treats to be found there.

The vision is more adorable than when you’ve seen children play with kittens, and no matter what you do, you can’t turn your heart into ice anymore. You were taught that the Minotaur is a monster who enjoys torturing his victims, creatures far more helpless than him. Now you see him watching the she-goat with warm curiosity, rumbling softly inside his helm, far from the ravaging beast that approached you in that tunnel what seems like months ago.

You watch him with tender sadness as he marvels at the sky and remembers how he used to sit in the shade of an olive tree when he was a child. He goes to sit there now and examines how the sun filters through the massive branches of the tree as if trying to recall the memory. 

He asks questions like: “How can you humans stand this heat?” or “Why is there only one road?” and listens to your answers carefully.

He says he can smell the sea, even if the salty water is miles and miles away, and gets curious about what’s behind that hill, or that one, what about that one… You wonder if he’s even interested in killing the king anymore and suggest that he could just forget about this cruel place and buy himself a sea voyage with that expensive sword. He could get rid of his helmet and ask if anyone needs a goat herd or an able-bodied man to help at construction sites or stables; he could get work from the docks any day, sail to Athens or some other big city, forge himself a new life. 

But he doesn’t want to.

He says he has to avenge his mother who always cried when he was little.

More wretched tugs pull at your heart as you approach the city. The lovely summer’s day turns into a nightmare once people see who’s on his way to the heart of Crete.

You don’t understand their screams, not anymore, while only a few days ago you knew they preceded death. The Minotaur doesn’t kill anyone, mainly because he doesn’t have to. Everyone flees before his wake, people rush to their homes and bar the doors, even soldiers slip away to be with their loved ones or run to warn the king if they have any loyalty left. 

You’re left to walk through the marketplace in settling dust and tense silence as the Bull Man explores the abundant samples of food on display. He has to have a taste of everything from all stands, but only after he has offered figs, olives, grain, grapes, grilled meat and fish to you first.

“Eat,” he says and shoves a handful of pine seeds your way. “You were hungry?”

“This is not the way to–” you ignore the food only through sheer willpower. “This is not right. People own these things. They sell them at the market, you need to pay for these.”

“Pay? With what?”

He looks at you for a moment, unable to recall what money is and how these things are supposed to work. He probably had his mother’s servants bring him everything he needed as a child anyway, so how could he know? 

“They will take your hands for stealing,” you try to explain with softly building despair.

“I will take their heads before that.”

“The next king will hunt you down and punish you,” you rush after him, and when he won’t listen, you seize his hand and finally get him to halt. He looks down at the weak palm around his wrist, then raises his gaze to you.

“Bulls don’t have kings.”

Your attempts to tame him are futile. The things they’ve taught him to be are now being used as a way to escape responsibility, and while it’s none of your business, you refuse to let him believe that he is nothing more than an animal.

“You are not a bull,” you wail in frustration. “You’re a man.”

He hesitates, only for a moment; the gentle, loving gaze makes your legs weak.

“You’re the first to think that.” 

Then he rips himself away from you, softly but sternly.

He doesn’t need directions to the palace: he knows he has to head for the most prominent building in the city to reach the king. The grandiose heart of Crete, white-chalked and beautiful under the burning midday sun is the pride of every citizen, even if it houses another monster.

You sigh as you watch him go: the Bull Man, the demon of the underworld, the one you thought would rape you bloody before you get to crawl out of the Labyrinth. The fact that he wanted to kill his father more than he wanted to be born again into a new life wasn’t a surprise, but that he chose to bloody his sword rather than his cock is somehow... insulting, almost. 

What actually haunts you is how your insides coil and turn when you rush back to your temple. It’s not like you thought the Minotaur would take you with him. Board some trade ship bound for distant shores, and ravage you ever so softly in the belly of the creaking hull. It’s not like you dreamed of petting him to sleep while you two embark on a new life. But the way your heart twists and wails inside your chest makes it clear that losing him is even more painful than losing Theseus and the life he promised you. 

You never even wanted Theseus; you only wanted him to take you away from here. His affection would have been the result of ample witchcraft at best.

He’s practically already dead, and your heart turns to stone far more slowly than you would prefer. It’s just your luck to first have the golden hero of Greece look down on you in disdain, and then witness even the Bull Man walk away from you like you never meant anything to him. Men killing each other is the oldest story in the world, and you want no part in it, but something in this beast has stirred you awake from a long, cold slumber. It’s infuriating that you can’t dispel a simple animal from your heart. Oldest story in the book, that one, too…

But oh, how you now yearn after some cruel, lowly, dirty beast… The Minotaur already owns you, and he never even had to plunge his sword inside you to prove that. Besides, you would’ve been perfectly willing had he decided to take you on the green grass, under the vast sky, while some noisy goats graze around you. You realize that that’s what you expected to happen, and when it didn’t, you’re left more than disappointed: you're left completely hollow. You always find out these things a little too late, it seems… The Bull is headed for the palace and will likely get killed after he slaughters his cruel father. There’s at least thirty spears in that building, and more will arrive when called.

You arrive at the temple, panting and with your body flushed and weak. The maidens at the entrance share a quick glance with each other before turning their fearful gazes back to you. They’re the youngest arrivals, not even initiates yet; one of them hardly even bleeds. 

“The King is dead,” you announce without bothering to even greet them, and the girls huddle up together like they’re a bunch of slaves about to get slapped.

You realize you must look like an animal with your dirty robes, dishevelled hair and your wild, alive stare. No wonder they look like they’ve seen a ghost... You basically are one, coming back from the dead like this.

“What?” 

A priestess arrives at the threshold like an image of Hecate herself, dressed in robes as black as the midnight sky, but you don’t shy away from her like you used to.

“Or he will be. Soon. The Minotaur is here.” 

“How did you… How did it...”

You’ve never seen the priestess in disarray. She’s always composed, cold and distant, but seeing you like the wraith that you are, freshly escaped from the Labyrinth, spat back from the bowels of the earth like the dark gods didn’t even want you there, makes even the greatest of Hecate’s servants a little uneasy. 

She gathers what’s left of her dignity and finds her most commanding voice. Sadly, it doesn’t have the power to shake the ground anymore.

“Where is Theseus of Athens?”

“Disemboweled… is my best guess,” you say in a listless voice, then turn your head toward the smell of fresh fruit.

Normally, you would walk these halls with dignity, but now, you simply barge in and grab the first piece of food you find. You ought to get whipped for your insolence, but no one dares to raise a hand against you. The maids and priestesses stare in shock as you eat and drink like a starved prisoner. You’re a living Hecate in certain aspects, your arrival the first toll of the bell of doom as the palace guards sound the alarm.

So…

The Minotaur has reached the king.

…

The priestesses deem it only logical that the King finally pays for his sins: the gods have been offended by the number of human sacrifices sent to the Labyrinth, and this is their way of exacting revenge. You were only an instrument of their will.

After a quick wash and some more food, you begin to feel like a human again. The maids bring you a new chiton, flowing and white: your old clothes are burned in a brazier as if that would help you forget.

And this might be the only place you don’t get blamed for unleashing a monster. You were at a crossroads with the Minotaur, and anyone would have done the same: try to talk him out of his killing spree, calm him down, entice him with a gift. No one expected that the beast could even speak, so your approach was unusual, perhaps, but it worked. Hecate guided you through the tunnels, even when the candle went out, she stilled the Bull’s loins until you reached the sunlight where the beast got distracted with other things. You leave out the Minotaur's attraction to birds, bees and butterflies because your story is unbelievable enough as it is.

But the Minotaur will be slain after he has done his deed: Minos is the one who should be punished, not the city of Crete. And it is only just to put down this beast, a mercy.

So when he appears between the pillars of temple, this time wholly covered in blood, people are bound to scream. Even the priestesses who are used to seeing blood, shriek like widows when the Minotaur steps inside the holy shrine of Hecate.

“Where is the maiden of the crossroads?”

He came back for you, after all…

The boom of his voice is familiar, and yet, you cower on the bench when you hear it. The Minotaur sounds like he’s an envoy of Hades himself, and while you’re not among those who scream and yell, it still sends shivers down your spine to hear him speak like that.

Or is it the excitement, a tiny flame of hope that makes you quiver like this?

“We all belong to the goddess,” someone peeps, the Minotaur now descending down the stairs.

The massive head turns, gaze like razor sweeping across the marbled shrine. You’re so far back that he can’t catch you, sitting behind many bodies and faces, and before you can force yourself to rise, the main priestess, the oldest, most crooked of the crones, steps forth to meet this beast.

“This is a House of Hecate,” she speaks. “No man is allowed to enter unless they are Death.”

The black carcass turns, but the priestess doesn’t waver. If anything, her spine turns into unbreakable metal before this man’s gaze.

“I am Death,” he says, far more gently than anyone would expect. Then he walks past the crone like she’s just a harmless elder. No one does a thing, because even the head of your temple is powerless now.

“She had a red string and a candle. Where is she?”

He grabs the first woman he sees, and you rise up before he decides it’s time to thrust his blade into someone to loosen the tongues of these women. 

“Please,” you take a hesitant step towards your Bull. “I’m here... I’m the one you’re looking for.”

The Minotaur lets go of the frightened initiate the instant he sees you. She’s shoved aside with little interest, the blue eyes behind the corpse now solely fixed on you. The way they soften into hazy ice makes your knees weak – that’s the stare of someone who recognizes their loved one among a thick, dull crowd…

“Come with me,” he extends a hand when he reaches you, strong legs swallowing tiles like he’s in a hurry to get back to you. You open your mouth, close it, and look at his hand, the rough, enormous palm held out for you to place your own little hand in.

“You belong to me,” he says with great weight when you don’t speak. It should spark the ire of the goddess for him to dare to talk to you like this… But mostly, your body sings. It tells you to take a step and take his hand: to let him have you, once and for all. 

“My place is here,” you utter, all power gone from your voice. All your dreams, all your fears are offering their hand to you with his, and the maidens, mothers and crones of this hall look upon your exchange with the Bull Man in stupefied silence. 

“You were sent down to me,” he presses on. “You are mine now. You belong to me.”

Your body is singing, singing, singing.

It’s not a request… Or a proposal. 

It’s a god, taking what’s his.

…

You swallow with nothing in your throat and look at the head priestess with helpless misery: she looks back with the eyes of a noxious Medusa, wholly dispassionate to the problems you brought upon yourself. And what could she even do? She’s unarmed against the claims of Hades: Death is now in love with you, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it. 

He doesn’t want to stay in the city, as enchanting as it is, saying that it stinks and that he’s tired of the screams. No one wants him here; he already knows that, and the task he was meant to do is done. He doesn’t seem to be much moved by it either, only asking you if there is a place where he can wash the blood off himself. 

People become more bold when they see you walk out of the city. Not even the sight of a crimson demigod makes them watch their tongues. Insults and slurs follow you through the streets, shouts such as “Kingslayer!” and “Beast!” are accompanied with curses such as “You are an abomination!” and “Go back to your lair!” 

No one treats him as their prince and savior, no one sees him as the man he truly is. And because hatred thickens in crowds, you get your share of the insults as well. 

What kind of a woman would follow a beast like him? Have you sold your soul to the demons of the desert, or has Hades himself forced you to be with this monster? Are you behind the murder of their king?

“Must I remind you?” You turn on your heels, standing tall and proud with the posture of a queen. “According to the old laws, the one who slays the king is the next to rule.” 

“You led him out of the Labyrinth, didn’t you?” the voices ask.

“Gave him your cunt, too,” they sneer.

“You’re worse than the bloody Gorgon,” they mock, but you have a thick skin: if anything, you take it as a compliment to be referred to the mighty slayers of men.

What cuts through your heart is the filth and hate they spit at him, the man who has known nothing but loath since he was born. 

“Hecate’s whore… I should kill you first,” one soldier shouts with spit running down his chin.

The citizens of Crete would never hail the Minotaur as their king, but none can say the deed didn’t prove great strength. Some would even call it justice. He is the queen’s son, after all: he’s more royal than any of these dung-stinking peasants will ever be. He should never have been sent down to those tunnels in the first place.

Before you know it, the Minotaur swoops past you in haste, diving towards the screaming crowd with hunched shoulders and a fiery breath.

“Stop,” you say, and he halts immediately, gaze still directed to the one who called you a whore. The soldiers back away along with the peasants and tradesmen, these poor, humble Cretes who act like they never meant to be so mean.

“Let us go in peace,” you command, voice unwavering and stern. “Or I will curse you all. You and your families, down to the seventh son and seventh daughter.”

That manages to shut them up. The threat of a curse frightens these poor beasts even more than the enraged Minotaur breathing fire through his helm. No one wants rot and puke to follow them wherever they go; no one wants to doom their offspring with illness, death and sorrow. They disperse in all directions and only hiss and whisper as they go.

You spit on the ground as your last gift to these people, leaving the city of Crete with the ever-adoring Bull at your heels.

“You’re even prettier when you’re angry,” he says while walking next to you, voice thick with genuine passion and awe.

You roll your eyes: any man would cower before Hecate’s curse, but this one? This one only gets more horny. 

“Perhaps you are part bull after all,” you retort dryly.

“It takes more than one spear to kill me,” he boasts, but you don’t need more proof of his prowess. Surely, people have tried to kill him in the Labyrinth, but he’s survived every single attempt on his life – for that alone, he should be a decorated hero.

The only thing that makes you annoyed, however, is this childish need to prove he could’ve taken the whole city by himself just because some man happened to call you a slut.

“Mother said I’m a monster instead of a man,” he says, completely unaware that your snap wasn't meant as a compliment. He says it like he’s partly proud of it, and you finally sigh and turn. 

“Your mother was heartless. And wrong.”

The Minotaur only looks at you with a building passion that goes straight to your loins.

“But you’re not.”

“...What?”

“Heartless.”

You feel stripped naked before him, the way his eyes seem to burn away your poor dress. But the fact that he unearths your most guarded secret, just like that, is a catastrophe of a far wider scale.

You’re not sure who’s tied to whom anymore… Or if you’re tied to each other, the gods now laughing in their wine as they look down at you two: a fierce and bloodied giant following the maiden he stole like it’s you who took him and not the other way around.

You reach the roaring waters of a waterfall in silence, the night wrapping the lands inside a dark blue veil. Stars will be visible soon, and with the moon creeping up to the sky, you won’t be needing candles tonight. The silver mistress gives plenty of light for you to admire your beast, and compared to the thick darkness of the tunnels you emerged from this morning, it feels like a generous blessing.

You sit on the banks of the small, clear pond, utterly exquisite at nightfall. The sun’s heat has turned into a warm, caressing breeze, and you submerge your feet into the water, giving out a satisfied sigh as the cool pond embraces your travel worn feet. The Bull sinks to a crouch some distance away from you, curious about your obvious moment of pleasure.

“Did you meet her…? Your mother?” You ask from the cool water lapping at your feet – how can a simple man make you feel so restless and shy?

“Did you… kill her?” 

“She cursed me,” he says, sullen and wholly unsurprised. Time and time again, you are shocked by the hatred his own kin shows him. How can a mother be so cruel?

“How could I kill my own maker?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For everything.” 

You swallow before such unwavering love. The same man who cursed the gods yesterday  honours the womb he came from so much that he won’t raise a hand against it, not even when his own mother spits curses at him. You don’t know if it’s his greatest strength or biggest weakness, but sometimes you wonder if he’s more human than humans, this beast.

“I’m not,” he retorts immediately. “The king is dead. Mother is safe. I have you... This is the best day of my life.”

You turn to look at him. Time and again, the lack of lies and deceit in this man catches you off guard. It’s more painful than any wound, to see how the Minotaur has no protective skin against the corrupted human nature, that he is human nature before it was defiled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you falter. 

The chiton pools around your ankles, and you wonder if the man even breathes anymore. You know your skin is glowing with the last rays of the setting sun, you’re aware that the water and moonlight play upon your skin and make you look like an illusion, powerful in its own way.

When have you ever faltered…? Back when you were a little girl, you reckon, the notion euphoric and eerie in your bones.

You rise up and undress before him nonchalantly, trying to ignore the fervid stare of your admirer. Unclasping the brooches holding up your white linen dress, you let it fall down and set you free, secretly reveling in the downright carnal stare now glued to your skin. 

Ripe for plucking, you think while stepping out of the pile of cloth and into the thin evening air. His gaze feasts on you: the plump breasts no one ever loved, the vulnerable navel down below, the dark triangle between your legs, the secret power it holds.

Heat pools into your core as you watch him: everything in your body turns warm and soft when you take in the utter heftiness of him. The mean, swelling phallus between his legs, the near inhuman strength those shoulders and chest possess. Your body is the complete opposite of him, ethereal, almost, compared to the absolute brute strength before you. 

His eyes linger there the longest until he rises too, stiff and dreamy, a beast entirely taken by a thrall. The loincloth is practically torn away, as if it’s only a nuisance he must get rid of immediately. His eyes never leave your shape while he bares himself, and the phallus, you notice, belongs to a human. It’s thick and wondrous, fully erect, adorned with dark curls and accompanied by a set of balls you’ve mainly seen on horses. Big, full and round but unlike animals, they’re covered in dark fur, almost black here in the evening light. Thick seed beads through the slit of his cock from simply seeing you, and the way his chest heaves makes it clear that this man is ready to mate as soon as he’s allowed to do so. 

“You need to take off your helm,” you lift your chin, thoroughly aware of your power over him, even if it’s laughable, a miracle that he doesn’t fuck you on the spot like the animal he is. “You’re a man, not a bull.”

His eyes don’t betray any kind of hesitation. He doesn’t seem to be interested in whether he wears his mask or not. He just blinks as if he’s indeed under a spell and nods.

“If you say so.”

The broad muscles flex as he takes it off, and what is revealed to you from underneath the head is both a surprise and a disappointment. There’s not a monster under there, only a man, a stoic, boorish, shaggy male who’s in desperate need of a wash and a comb. He’s somewhat handsome under all that facial hair and knots, actually, not bad at all – if you like your men rugged and wild. 

He lets the head drop to the ground with a thud as if it was never a part of him at all, and follows you into the pool like you’re his mother and he’s your cub about to get scrubbed clean. 

He seems to dwarf you, even when half submerged in the pond, leaning back with a sigh not unlike yours. If you’re afraid, your body has a peculiar way of showing it: even in the clear, glossy water, you can feel yourself get wet. Never have you seen such strength, not in any man: in horror and awe, you realize he could be a descendant of Zeus himself. As if providing proof to these claims, he looks up to the sky, mesmerized by the myriad stars dotting the vast, unattainable blue.

Using this momentary distraction to your advantage, you reach to pluck a handful of moss from the bank. With this soft little sponge in your hand, you hope to make it clear that this is indeed a bath, not foreplay. 

“They’re stars,” you say softly while slinking closer to him. “Have you ever seen them...?”

“Yes,” he rasps with his head lolled back, throat completely exposed. It always hurts your heart to see that he trusts you so fully. You are no threat to him – even if the gods changed the moss in your hand into a weapon of some sort, you wouldn’t pose any kind of challenge. And still, the way he allows you to creep towards him and wipe his rough hide with the makeshift sponge without so much as flinching is heartbreaking. 

“I have forgotten…” his voice drifts off as he examines the night sky, eyes filled with distant, glass-like delight.

“Beautiful, aren’t they...?” 

“Your world is pretty,” he brings his gaze back to earth and to you. “But you’re the loveliest thing I’ve seen so far.”

You almost freeze upon hearing that. His compliments always catch you off guard, but this time, something forbidden and long forgotten comes undone: a lost want, no, a need to hear such simple words of shallow praise.

“You do not scream... You do not run. Why?”

Your eyes are liquid, glass about to break as you set yourself on the task of scrubbing him clean. You refuse to get emotional in front of him: an initiate of the dark goddess, shedding tears when a horny man calls her pretty? What utter nonsense.

But then he grabs your wrist: not to seize back power, but to prevent you from escaping this fragile moment.

“You are different,” he agrees calmly, then releases you, but you reckon it’s mostly because he misses the soft rubs you were giving him. 

“Perhaps I’m crazy,” you breathe while looking at the damp curls on his chest.

Yes… That’s the only explanation for this madness. It has to be.

“Is that why you took me?” 

“I took you because you’re mine. I want you.”

“You can’t just take what you want,” you warn softly.

“Why not?” His head tilts a little to the side as he’s trying to make sense of you and the manners of your world. “Don’t you want to be mine?”

You lift your gaze and risk a look into his eyes, stripped from all facades as always. You even catch a passing wave of worry there: he had counted on you being as fascinated with him as he is with you. The hunger behind that want, the need to be something special to you, is a whole another issue that must wait until your head is more clear. Way more clear…

“Perhaps,” you confess.

“I have nothing to give you,” he shrugs, eyes looking slightly past you this time, out of shame or anxiety. It takes a while for you to understand he’s liking you to the goods at the market and thinks he’s expected to have money to be able to keep you.

“You don’t need to pay for me,” you smile, trying your best to disguise the soft amusement in your voice. His brows only furrow as he tries to calculate and think.

“I don’t understand the rules of this world,” he finally shakes his head. 

“I’ll teach you.”

For a while, he only looks on with fascination how you rub his arms and belly, basically massaging him with the wet moss. His eyes drift closed when you scrub the back of his neck, the stout erection only getting thicker under the cool water. You’re careful with his legs, not because you’re afraid he’s ticklish but because you try to avoid touching the huge cock already jutting up from happiness. It gives a few excited bounces when you wash his inner thighs, hopeful to get its needs satiated soon. 

“I can hunt for you,” he suggests. “Bring you food… Protect you.”

He’s visibly excited when figuring out a way to give you something in return. He wants to provide offerings for your company, your lore, and eventually, your cunt, too. You might be a virgin, but you’re not stupid: of course he wants the soft, wet prize between your legs. A pair of lovely tits to squeeze at night... Ears to groan hushed confessions into, thighs to nibble, bite and suck until you cry... 

“What do you think?” He asks, breath heavy from the bliss you’re already granting him by simply giving him a bath. “I could give you my heat. Please you...”

“You know how to please women?” 

“No. But you could teach me.”

The way he says it is not shy. Only tentative. A bear, walking on ice and hoping it would carry his weight. One wrong step and the ice will swallow him, spitting out his bones only in spring. 

And then…

“Do you know how to fuck?”

The ice holds, mainly because you’re too shocked to even slap or ridicule this man. His eyes bore into you with such unbridled greed that you have trouble keeping your precious pride intact.

“Of course,” you hear yourself whisper like it would be an insult to your intellect if you didn’t.

“Teach me,” he says, ever more greedily.

“I…”

Your jaw is left open, but not a word comes out. A strong palm closes around your wrist again, this time to bring you flush against him. The water laps at your skin, a distant crow cackles somewhere. Your hand is brought to his phallus, but he doesn’t have to wrap your fingers around it: you do it all by yourself, breath locked in your throat as you feel how hard and blazing he is.

“You want my cock,” he says, mouth only an inch from yours. “Don’t you...?”

You wet your lips – a mistake, because his half-lidded gaze darts to your mouth the instant your pink tongue lashes out. You’re in a predicament, but on the other hand, what else did you expect, taking your clothes off in front of a touch-starved bull?

“I’d give it to you happily,” he insists. “No female ever wanted to spread her legs for me.”

Or a leash. 

Your fingers tighten on their own, they mould around him. Like a bond…

“Really?” You breathe. “What fools they were...”

The cock gives a full throb inside your palm, exalted to be yours. But only a moment later, the dreaded Minotaur moves. 

You find yourself under him before you can even gasp for air: the soaked, hot body of a giant now pinning you on the grass and crushing you under it with ease. The weight of your error is fully pressed against you: he was never tamed, and you were a fool to think you could put him in chains.

The raw scent of earth and musk fills your nostrils, making the stars above you spin. His cock is trapped between your bodies, giving another rich pulse against your thigh. Gods, if he were throbbing like that inside you…

“You make my skin burn,” he growls into your ear, the heat of his skin now unbearable, the coarse hair prickling your skin from neck to thigh. “My loins, ache…”

“Are you a witch?” He asks, and you finally allow yourself to breathe.

If he only knew… But hexes and charms are of no use for you now: the only thing you can do is moan, apparently, as he dives for your neck, planting barbarous kisses on your skin.

Down, down, down he goes, pure avarice driving him to feast on every part of you. You’re too weak to stop him when he searches for the source of your intoxicating scent. Discovering it between your thighs, he dives nose-first into your sex, meeting your core with a hungry grunt.

Your back arcs with pleasure, your nails sink into his back: a funny thing to do when he’s already as close as can be. The trail of crude kisses leads him to your breasts, and you try to keep your whimpers in control, but a gasp erupts when he drags a hot tongue across your nipple. Massive palms close around your tits while you squirm in his hold: he doesn’t seem to be driven by the need to please you; rather, he wishes to study you first, examine how your body reacts to his groping. He leaves your breasts aching and sore, every bite and suck managing to make you wetter and wetter, your cunt screaming for attention by now.

“Gods...” you wriggle on the soft earthen bed, not expecting him to take you with his mouth first.

He withdraws, only a little, but his voice is surprisingly soft.

“Do I hurt you...?” 

“No… But this is not mating…”

“Even I know that much,” he says darkly, and grabs you by the waist, moves you around like a doll until you find yourself on your belly. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, demonic and keen. The broad shoulders force your legs wide apart when he’s seated there, waist-deep in the water, with you hauled to the shore like a siren.

Not a moment is wasted as he pulls you back to him by the hips: you’re drawn to all fours, a hot streak of cum dragging on the inside of your thigh from the cock that meets your skin. He grabs and steadies it with an annoyed grunt, and the fat tip is shoved straight into your folds, your nether lips parted with brute force almost. 

“Guide me.”

His voice is demanding, impatient as he drags the fat head up and down the entrance of your hole, coating his cock with your slick in the process. You wonder if it’s instinctual, if he knows that this is where he should poke and that it will hurt you less if he’s well-oiled. He’s about to rut you into oblivion the instant you tell him where to shove his cock, and the prospect only sends more sap flowing down your thigh.

“There…” you stutter when he finds it, the aching spot that’s leaking profusely. He pushes the head in, not by teasing but by bullying, almost forcing it inside from how tight and unreceptive you are.

“Tighter than my fist,” is his only comment, and it makes you shudder. “I will not last long…”

You wince from the burn, but the rest of it glides in like a dream, and suddenly you’re filled, to the capacity, one could say. He grunts just from the way your womanhood is hugging him, not sure what this foreign object inside you is – is it a good thing or a threat?

“Easy then,” you breathe a huff into the sweet night air, filled with fireflies and night birds who know nothing about the fucking you’re about to go through.

He doesn’t move – inside you, that is. Outside, he crawls forward until he moulds around you, heavy body enveloping you completely. The hairs on his thighs tickle the back of your legs, his chest scrapes your back just so as he demonstrates how you belong to him in every way. But when your cunt starts to squeeze him again, he swallows thickly.

“Does this feel good to you too…?”

You catch faint confusion and concern in his voice, astonished that such a soft, frail body like yours can take his cock just like that. Little does he know you’re still adjusting to his size, thanking all the gods that he doesn’t move yet.

“Yes,” you confess because it does feel good: his thickness inside you, stretching you both gently and violently, studying how it feels to be inside a loving, wet heat.

“Then I will fuck you every day,” his lips come to brush your ear. “Many times...”

You hear yourself whimper, more humble now than ever. No man would dare to take you on all fours, but here you are, like a bought bride about to get stuffed…

He withdraws a little, asks, “Like this?” when he returns with a rough, nasty thrust. The balls meet your mound, heavy on the tender nub you’ve flicked when you’re lonely, covering your mouth while you do it. Both your hands are planted on the ground now, your legs spread before this beast, cunt filled to the brim with his cock.

“Not so rough,” you warn, and he heeds your instructions to the letter until he’s moving in and out with a slow, delicious pace that allows you to feel every thick bump of him. Soaked now down to your thighs, the sounds of your mating is utterly sloppy and slick, and of course he’s curious.

“Are you always like this…?”

“Like… what,” you huff in between the slow, torturous thrusts.

“Soft,” he rasps. “Tight… Wet like rain.”

“No. It’s just when…”

“When you want to fuck?”

You whimper for an answer, mostly because he starts to slip from the agreed sluggish pace. His cock invades you with more urgency, chasing the eruption that must be generous from those thick balls that should belong to a horse.

“I knew it…” he says dreamily behind you. “Some women want to mate with bulls...”

He punctuates his newfound pride with a full, deep thrust, and you wince.

“You’re not a–”

“Keep telling yourself that, little maiden.”

He exhales a hot smile next to your ear, and you’re neck deep in love. Your mouth hangs open, your lids half closed and fluttering from the way he pounds into your poor, abused cunt. Heavy balls slap your swollen nub with careless abandon, making you squeeze his thickness every time he hits the end of you. His grunts become more animalistic with every thrust, and your cunt is a wild thing, leaking and weeping and throbbing until you fear there’s something wrong with you – no woman is supposed to be this needy for a beast…

I’m going to come… You realize in horror as the slick sounds of fucking overthrow even the coursing roar of the waterfall. The knowledge shoots your body full of dark, hot ink; it explodes inside your core like a liquid star, throbbing through your cunt currently being ploughed like you’re nothing but a needy, sloppy hole for him. You’re swimming in so much pleasure that it’s almost painful, the revelation some secret of the gods, no doubt. 

He growls when you moan, heavy arm snaking its way around your middle to keep you in place for him. The purr is eager and low, the rumble erupts from his chest like a thick, loving volcano, a statement of how perfect you are. He nuzzles his nose into your neck and rubs his scent all over you while fucking you through it, the divine rapture that leaves your throat dry from moans. 

He doesn’t need to be told what it means when you’re crying like that: he doesn’t need to be explained that his cock is giving you ample pleasure. It’s so desperate, how much he wants to both fuck and please you, just own you and fulfill you, that you start to shake, your frail body not capable of handling the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your strength fails, and you find yourself on your elbows, cunt even more exposed to him now, the cock pistoning into you with a relentless pace. He’s like a titan upon you, taking pleasure from your quivering, weak frame and the tight wet hole that belongs to it. You’re still in rapture when he starts to sound like broken, wounded man.

“You were made for me,” he huffs. “You were made...for me…”

His voice evaporates along with your thin, adoring mewls, just before he fucks himself over the edge. You can feel the hot, thick spurts, filling you as he roars into your hair, balls pressed flush against your sex, thighs meeting yours in a moment frozen in time. 

They can probably hear him all the way to the city, hear what a cunt like yours does to an invincible beast like him… But his cries are only met with silence; the night sky looks back with disinterest, the birds continue their songs when they notice it was only the roar of a mighty beast that filled the land. Before long, he’s groaning above you, using your hole more softly; loving it until the last drop is milked. 

When he stops, his whole body is trembling from release, but you’re not given a moment of reprieve. He forces you to the ground with him on your back, the rough, thick body never leaving yours. Coarse beard chafes your neck, his body trapping you completely under him, he even opens his jaw to take your shoulder between his teeth and bites you while his cock is still pulsing fat inside you. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants into your ear, angry, almost.

“Good,” you breathe a smile, but he’s not satisfied.

“You couldn’t get enough of me too… I noticed.”

“You gave me pleasure,” you agree. “Lots of it.”

“That was a lot of seed… I haven’t spilled in days.”

He huffs into your ear, astonished and proud that he could do such a thing. You feel him shift to take a better look at you, fingers arrive to graze your temple as if to make sure you’re real, as if having his cock inside you wasn’t enough proof of that. They’re a little shaky, a little uncouth, but the touch is gentle enough, and sweet.

He's boasting again perhaps, you don’t know, but you give him a soft laugh, notice how he stops breathing momentarily when hearing the bright sound.

“I am filled to the brim with you, yes… It will take a while before I can take more.”

“...You have other holes in you,” he offers after a while, quite seriously, in fact. 

“Get off me, you beast,” you huff and squirm to get out from under him, but there’s a luscious grin on your face, a smile that tells him you would more than approve of his obscene ideas later. 

“This feels good,” he murmurs into your hair. “This feels right...”

He allows you to leave from under him, only whines when his cock gets exiled from your cunt. He misses the wet heat like a newborn child misses the womb, but you need to recover from the recent invasion. Seed gushes out from your hole, making a mess on the ground as he pulls you against him, wanting to cuddle you next.

You wonder if he even knows what cuddling means as you lie there with a sticky mess between your legs and the heat of an entire sun on your cheeks. You smile into the coarse, sweaty body hair tickling your nose, deciding it doesn’t matter whether he knows or not: the most important thing is that he wants to hold you like this.

“Yes,” you smile. “This feels right…”

Something blooms in your chest. An odd flower, persistent and sweet. 

The stars above are cold but motherly as they look down on you two: born again into a world that doesn’t want either of you. The only things that accept you now are flowers, birds, the wind and the rain, bees and salty sea, but that’s aplenty. That’s more than the whole of Crete could ever give you.

“Are you thinking about your hero,” he asks above you.

“What? No…”

“Good,” he rasps, so softly now that you start to fear he’s about to cry.

You are more than capable of lying, but Theseus hasn’t crossed your mind in hours: the last time it did, the memory was received with loath and disdain. Thinking about Theseus while you’re draped all over your Bull, his seed flowing out of your womb... What a ridiculous idea. 

The reason for his hardly disguised anger is laid out plain before you: he's just jealous like any other man. Somehow, it makes you feel even more glowy inside.You’re my hero, you want to say, but have no courage to spill out the words. He was balls deep inside you mere moments ago, but telling him this intimate truth seems to be too much.

It never occurred to him, then, that you would enjoy copulating with him. He fucked you with the impression that you needed thoughts of another man to make you wet… That perhaps with the help of the image of Theseus in your mind, you were able to come with his cock inside you. 

“My Bull,” you whisper. “Tell me your name. You must have a name…?”

His breath stops only for a moment, the heart in his chest gives an arduous beat before he answers.

“Asterion.”

Starry one…

Of course.

All monsters have names, usually the opposite of what they’re claimed to be. His birth is in heaven, in the stars; he belongs to the company of heroes and gods.

“Asterion,” you whisper it out into the night air while the animal an man both find their new home in your arms. “Your birth is written in the stars. Did you even know…?”

“Does that make me a hero?” He snorts, more old wounds torn open right before your eyes. 

You wriggle yourself out of his hold, but he avoids your stare. You lift a hand to bring those beautiful Olympian eyes back to you.

“It makes you immortal.”

Perhaps you should’ve known he would be enticed with an apple instead of tethers and deals. Or with a palm, held out with no intent to strike… 

It’s lovely, how he blinks every time he’s confused. You’ve yet to see him shy, but if he ever is, this might be the moment… You even catch him swallowing under that wild facial hair, an awkward blob right after that blink when his birthright is acknowledged.

But even more dumbfounded he becomes when he realizes you’re truly and veritably admiring him. When you whisper it to him – you’re my hero – and watch something shatter in him that was supposed to wrench itself free, that’s when he’s truly granted divinity.

Perhaps it was all about becoming animal again, allowing the other to have a sniff. Baring your throat and embracing the instinct to trust. Marrying your wild soul… The deepest magic of all.

[communistkenobi]

"Sex" is commonly used to refer to a person's status as a man or woman based on biological factors. Although sex reflects a person's biology, as opposed to gender, which is generally considered to be socially constructed, the biological aspect of the body that determines a person's sex has not been legally or medically resolved. Traditionally, a person's legal sex is established by the sex that the birth attendant places on the birth certificate. Thus, for infants born with unambiguous external genitalia, the external genitalia typically control the sex determination. If the genitalia appear ambiguous, sex is assigned, in part, based on sex-role stereotypes. The presence of an "adequate" penis in an XY infant leads to the label male, while the absence of an "adequate" penis leads to the label female. A genetic (XY) male with an "inadequate" penis (one that physicians believe will be incapable of penetrating a female's vagina when the child reaches adulthood) is "turned into" a female even if it means destroying his reproductive capacity. A genetic (XX) female who may be capable of reproducing, however, is generally assigned the female sex to preserve her reproductive capability, regardless of the appearance of her external genitalia. If her phallus is considered to be too large to meet the guidelines for a typical clitoris, it is surgically reduced, even if it means that her capacity for satisfactory sex may be reduced or destroyed. In other words, men are defined based on their ability to penetrate females, and females are defined based on theis ability to procreate. Sex, therefore, can be viewed as a social construct rather than a biological fact.

— The Road Less Traveled: The Problem with Binary Sex Categories by Julie A Greenberg in Transgender Rights (2006)

interesting to note that 1) the introduction of chromosomal information doesn’t actually provide more “biologically accurate” precision in sex assignment, only a more complex set of administrative and medical instructions on the procedures of assignment, 2) the only concern in sex assignment is maintaining the distinction that “females make babies” and “males penetrate females to induce pregnancy.”

This is why the idea that “sex is biological” or that we can just drill down to find the sex atom of the human body, be that chromosomes or gametes or whatever else, is premised on the notion that sex assignment is simply a record of a self-evident reality, not the construction of the category of sex as the mythological foundation of cis-heterosexual reproduction

[yourstrqly]

✰ POSITIONS, F1 DILFS

[ starring ] sebastian vettel, kimi räikkönen, fernando alonso, jenson button, lewis hamilton, kevinmagnussen

[ tw ] fem!reader, smut (+18), dom!drivers, mention of sex toys and tapes, dirty talking, fem and male oral receiving (+ choking on dick)

. minors do not read .

sebastian enjoys sitting back to watch you play with yourself, be it your dainty fingers buried deep inside your pussy and coated in your juices, or the dildo, the copy of his cock, he had gifted you months ago when he was away; the sight of the grip your greedy pussy has on the plastic phallus and your body writhing in the sheets, whorish moaning his name to pled for relief, thighten his trousers but rather than bouncing you, feeling your tight little satch, he leans forward, breath fawning onto your wet tights, resulting in goosebumps.

you'd cry out silently, legs shaking as you ram the toy faster into your warmth. "what did you say, liebe? (love) care to repeat?", the man would ask, his rough hands grabbing your thick tights. "want my big dick inside you? fuck you till you can't remember your name and see stars no more, huh?", he'd taunt you with a massive smirk on his pinkish lips. "that what you would like, don't you, my dirty girl?"

kimi prefers on being hands on, having you knee in front of him to suck him off. tears have already escaped your eye and stained your hallowed cheeks, while his right hand sits at the back of your head, hair kept in a ponytail to manage the speed and the desired depth. your glossy eyes holding contact with his lustfilled gaze and the choking sounds as well as the moans that send off vibrations around his dick, makes him pull your face against his pelvic bone to deep throat him. the tightness of your wet mouth let's his cock throb slightly, the taste of salty pre cum hits your tongue once again.

slowly, kimi would face fuck you, forcing your lips to touch his pelvic whenever he pulls your head towards him, forcing your jaw to go slack and take his long cock all the way as saliva runs out of the corners of your stretched mouth, trailing down your tits and eventually hitting the carpet. "you love being my good girl, eh? then choke on it."

nando loves to grab your plump ass whilst hugging you whenever it is in public or in the privacy of a room — if his action is made in the later situation, the innocence of his touch quickly turns into nibbling playfully on your ear and neck, leaving small marks to show his claim of you. his finger would dip inside your clothing to touch your already wet pussy, gently brushing past the outer lips to rub your clit, which will transform you into mush against his body. wanting to eat you out, nando would lay you down on the bed if there is one, probing pillows under your hips to get an easy access to your wetness. he's godsend, festing on your pussy as it would be his last time, resulting in leaving you a breathless moaning puddle of a mess. "please don't stop, papi."

jenson would be the guy who'd twirl, pull and nib on your stiff nibbles as you stroke his growing dick whilst watching a sex tape of yourselves to get in the right zone. in his opinion its one of the easiest ways to set the mood; watching a homemade video of him plowing inside you from behind against a hotel wall or having you cuffed on the bedframe, fucking your little hole hard as you cum over and over again — he'll feel your breath stock whenever his recorded self hits your g-spot or lands a spank on your brightly coloured ass, and the slick of your snatch drips on his leg, that's between yours, rubbing over your cunt.

"in another life, you'd be a pornstar, darling", jense would whisper in your ear as he moves above you, running the fat leaking head of his cock against your awaiting pussy.

lewis would have you in sixty-nine, tongue tracing the rim of your snatched hole as you kitten-lick off the precum of his massive dick and nibble softly on a bold vein, chasing a groan out of the fit male. as soon as you reach past the half, he'll push his cock upwards, causing you to choke on his dick — his less dominating hand keeps your head down as his other hand sinks two fingers at the same time inside you roughly, sending you over the edge, a process he continues over again till you tap his thight two times.

"fucked you good, huh?"

kevin likes nothing more than seeing you completely relaxed and giggling during a session of soft, romantic sex; it's his favourite way to return to a relaxed state of mind after a race and running behind his small children. he'll have you ride him though he'd control the pace while pressing your face against his neck to feel you sucking kisses against it. whenever kevin would push hard upwards inside you, he'd hear you purr like a catita or moan, rambling about how he should just throw you down and fuck you, but this will just result in his next pushes slower, teasing you to show you who's the "boss".

POLY/MULTI DRIVERS — SINGULAR DRIVERS

[bennitastisch]

fucking tumblr gays entire dashboard full of ray toro drinking from a tube

[strangerxperv]

Y'all seem to really like step bro Eddie (I can see those votes you naughty bitches) so here's a lil thot.

Warning: smut/ minors DNI, step bro Eddie, Eddie is a warning, he's also manipulative, unprotected sex, breeding, edging, Eddie runs his mouth a lot, and your both drunk off sex.

Eddie's been begging you to let him fuck you for months. You've held steady by refusing him at every turn stating that it's taboo. It would be crossing the line if the both of you were to have sex.

Kissing in secret is one thing. Letting him fuck your pussy with his tongue is reasonable. Choking down Eddie's cock, fair. But letting your step brother fuck you? Out of the question.

You aren't one to not compromise and that's how he's landed you on your back. Legs spread wide with Eddie's warm hands under your knees. Pressed firmly on your bare bouncing fat tits. Your small hands are wrapped around you to keep his dick in place.

The leaky cherry red tinted a pretty purple is smashed against your stiff clit. It dribbles precum which pools over your clit to seep into your pulsing heat. He fucks over your cunt like a man possessed.

Fucking you to the edge but never letting you fall over and over again. The man himself has spilled his seed spraying over your cute jiggling tummy. But he never stopped fucking you.

It's been so long that your brain has completely melted and long since dripped from your desperate depths. You want to cum so bad you'll do anything the curly haired man wants. You'll even break your own rules.

"Please! Eddie! -Mmm- please, just fuck me-" your breathless whines gasping out through swollen lips.

"Why should I? You said it yerself. I can't fuck my sweet lil sis, 's too taboo, but this way I'll get to pretend-" Eddie's smirk is so mean you can't help it as tears streak over plump cheeks.

"P-p-pleeEEeease! Please, am sorry and I don't care if i's wrong! I wan' your cock in my pussy! Please! I'll be good an' I'll do anything, I swear!" Your sobs are exactly what your big brother wants to hear.

"Oh yeah? You sure that's a good idea? I don't have any condoms..." His hands slip out from under your knees one dragging your hand from between you. His hands hold yours above your head as his shoulders support your legs. Eddie's throbbing erection is sandwiched by both your bodies. His lips brush your ear, "Baby, you aren't on birth control. Won't that really cross the line? Knocking you up?"

"I wan' it! Wanna have your babies! No one makes me feel so good or loves me so well, please." Your hands clench around his as if imploring him, hoping he'll ravage you.

"Such a good girl. Gon' make a good mama too-" Eddie angles his hips till his tip is kissing your quivering hole, "We're gon' make such pretty babies," Finally he sinks into your cunt with easy. The man has been edging you for so long your slick pussy welcomes him, "Fuck! Fuckfickfu-!"

He's thrusts are relentlessly deep where no one has ever dared to reach. His phallus punches in fast succession against your cervix. It stings in such a pleasant way your breath catches, "and I'm gonna- heh- im gonna teach 'em music."

"Eddie-!" You squeal with your head thrown back, "I's too much!! Too deep!!"

"No, s'not. Not enough. Need more an' 'm gon' give you more!" His words are slurred slack jawed and pussy drunk above you, "Godda be deep, baby, so ya can get knocked up."

For the second time tonight you wonder what you've gotten into.

[dionysianivy]

God Dionysus

°🏺⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Manifestations: Dionysus typically manifests in the form of a man, lion, bull, or goat. He is the horned Green Man, crowned with snakes. He is sometimes described as androgynous or effeminate with long, beautiful, dark, wavy or curly hair. Dionysus is wine: by drinking wine, one shares the sacrament of Dionysus’ body.

Iconography: He is sometimes venerated in the form of a huge phallus.

Attributes: His primary attribute was the thyrsus: a wand (originally a fennel stalk) topped with a pinecone; also cymbals, frame drums, and other percussion instruments.

Sacred animals: Leopards and panthers, snakes, mules, donkeys, goats, and lions

Mount: Dionysus rides a chariot drawn by griffins.

Plants: Grapevines, ivy, walnut trees, fig trees

Colors: Purple, wine

Spirit allies: Dionysus only wants to be alone when he’s hungover. He is a gregarious, friendly spirit usually surrounded by aretinue including devotees, sacred animals, and other deities. His allies include:

• Apollo

• Demeter and Persephone

• Hekate

• Kybele

• Pan

• Satyrs

• Semele

• Silenus

Sacred site: Dionysus eventually became Apollo’s altar-equal at Delphi, taking over the shrine in winter. He was considered Apollo’s opposite, representing hot ecstatic energy rather than Apollo’s cold rationalism. The coasts of southern Italy are allegedly among Dionysus’ favorite places.

Sacred days: Devotion to Dionysus once dominated Greek winters. In Athens, he was honored by four festivals:

• Dionysia (end of November/beginning of December)

• Lenea (approximately one month later)

• Anthesteria (end of January)

• Great Dionysia (end of February)

🍷🍇🍷🍇🍷🍇🍷🍇🍷🍇🍷🍇🍷🍇🍷🍇🍷

source: Encyclopedia of Spirits: The Ultimate Guide to the Magic of Fairies, Genies, Demons, Ghosts, Gods & Goddesses - Judika Illes

tip jar.ೃ࿔*:･

[girlwithsharpt33th]

𝐴𝑁𝐺𝐸𝐿𝐼𝐶 ~ 𝐺𝑂𝐽𝑂

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: 𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑔𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒’𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑦 (𝑀𝐷𝑁𝐼, 18+ 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑝𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑢𝑏!𝑔𝑜𝑗𝑜, 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑗𝑜, ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 ℎ𝑢𝑔𝑠, 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒!

As soon as you insert the key into the door of your apartment, Gojo greets you at the door. The look on his face is truly pathetic, like a lost puppy who has been traumatized after being lost for days.

He engulfs you in a warm hug, twirling you through the doorway and shutting the door. He rests his head on your shoulder and inhales deeply, running his long, dexterous fingers through your hair.

“I want you. ‘S cruel for you to leave me alone this long.” he murmurs, his hands drifting down to your ass and rocking side to side softly.

You chuckle. “Don’t make me feel guilty, ‘Toru. Quite the turn off.” He doesn’t say anything, instead squeezing your ass and giving you a quick peck on the lips. He picks you up, burying his face in your cleavage and nosing around.

“Please. Fuck me.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The short skirt you’re wearing is hiked up to your stomach as you lay on your unmade bed. Gojo gives several kisses and kitten licks to the pretty pink dildo strapped to your waist. He wraps his lips around it, taking it all the way in. It’s quite long and girthy, and you dont hesitate to shove his head down and fuck his face.

He looks up at you with his teary, crystalline irises, determined not to part his lips from your cock. (He takes the onslaught quite well, having virtually no gag reflex). Wet sloppy sounds and muffled groans spill from his mouth.

“Don’t forget your fingers.” you remind him, sitting up slightly and grabbing one of the hands gripping your thighs. You suck a couple of his fingers, not breaking eye contact with him. He removes his mouth from the dildo, rosy lips parted in an o-shape, enraptured by the lewd display.

His idiotic gawking causes you to snort and you push his head back down forcefully. “Back to work, Satoru.” He complies, putting his mouth back to work and fingering himself with his spit-dampened fingers. His hips rock back against his hand, desperate for more friction.

You yourself crave more friction, so you decide to tease him.

“On your ass, ‘Toru” you command huskily, and he looks up at you, panting, a confused expression on his face. He extracts his lips from the pink phallus and reluctantly removes his fingers from his ass with a groan, sitting cross-legged.

You crawl towards him, taking one of his large hands and kissing it as you lower yourself onto his lap. His breath hitches, misty eyes and pinkening cheeks attesting to the effect you have on him. He snakes his arms around your back, engulfing your much smaller frame in a tender embrace. Before he can settle his head on your shoulder, you poke his sternum slowly and shift back, wrapping your hand around his shaft and the dildo.

Your hand, slick with his precum, begins to stroke lazily up and down. You know he’s almost at his limit by the way he immediately thrusts up into your touch, throwing his head back. His long, snowy eyelashes flutter closed.

“Baby, don’t do that, look at me.” you murmur, almost desperate. You’re as weak for him as he is for you. He lifts his head and looks into your eyes longingly.

“Can’t help it. You’re so pretty,” His honeyed words make your head fuzzy. He appears to notice your eyes further darkening with lust at his words, so he continues. “The skirt, everything…stunning. ‘S too much for one man to handle on his own.” he whispers, engulfing your lips in a sloppy, desperate kiss.

You increase the pace of your hand, the pressure in your stomach blooming at his sweet praises. He becomes vocal again, rolling his hips. The pressure on your clit underneath the strap increases, and you reach your own release. He runs a calloused hand up and down your thigh and cups your cheek in the other, his nonverbal way of talking you through your orgasm.

You recover quickly and quicken your ministrations on his cock, swirling your thumb over the flushed tip. It isn’t long before he spurts into your hand, rivers of cum flowing down his length and the dildo.

He shudders, spent, but wanting more. You finally give into him and the embrace he so craves. He immediately sinks into your touch, inhaling deeply.

“I wanna ride you, sweetheart. Please.” he begs, his voice muffled against your sweat-dampened shoulder.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With shaky legs, satoru carefully sinks down onto your strap. Your clothes, including the pretty skirt you’d been wearing, have long been lost amongst the tangled sheets.

His hands grope your tits greedily, running his broad thumbs over your hardened nipples. He huddles over you and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, moving his hips up and down rhythmically. His heavy cock slaps against your stomach.

His soft moans and breaths flow into your ears like an addictive melody. His mouth grazes over your neck, sucking and licking rhythmically.

“S’ deep.” he croons drunkenly. You lift his chin up and insert a thumb into his mouth. His tongue circles the digit sensually, a string of saliva dripping onto your chest. So sloppy. So cute.

“Sit up. I wanna watch.” you say, your voice dripping with lust and admiration. Satoru reluctantly sits up and resumes bouncing on your cock. His weight pressing down on the strap causes a pleasurable feeling to build in your core.

Gradually, he begins to move his hips faster, grinding desperately. His mouth is agape, eyebrows knitted, looking at you as if you’ve truly wrecked him. He leans back, using your thighs as leverage as he bounces off of them.

He looks ethereal. The moonlight coming in from the bedroom window illuminates his alabaster skin. His cock is painted a magnificent rose color. He reaches up and plays with his nipples, whimpering.

“You’re like art, satoru.” you whisper, enraptured by his display. You caress his thighs. He grows desperate, seemingly clinging to your praises. His legs begin to shake.

“S-say something else like that.” he whimpers. It appears he’s too focused on his impending orgasm to properly articulate himself.

You grin and chuckle lowly. “You’re so gorgeous. And all mine.” It’s corny, but you know your voice is like manna to him, the breath of his life. It’s more than enough to take him to heaven.

Sure enough, he crumbles, his cock splattering his pearly white seed up his abs. He huffs and dismounts the dildo, laying on his back beside you. You pull yourself up onto your elbows, kissing his cheek.

You straddle his thighs again, licking the cum off of his stomach. He moans faintly, running a large shaky hand through your hair. “Don’t have t’ do that.” he murmurs, but you shake your head and smile.

Once you’ve finished your task, his hands slip down your sides, flipping you around and grasping your waist, pinning your back against his chest. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and planting a tender kiss against your skin.

“Love you, sweet girl.” he whispers before drifting off. You smile and hold the hand resting on your stomach, feeling the most safe you ever have.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: List of Aphrodisiacs

Here is a brief list of some of the foods that have been considered, at some time or other, to have aphrodisiac qualities.

Almond - As well as being the same shape as the vesica piscis, the sacred doorway through which matter emerges into spirit, the almond is a nut and therefore carries the potential for new life.

Aniseed - Falls into the category of seeds. Also aids digestion and sweetens the breath which could explain why the Romans considered it a useful ingredient for seduction.

Apple - Infamous as the fruit that Eve gave to Adam, a symbol of sexual awakening.

Asafetida - (or Asafoetida) This is the ground root of a fennel-like plant. It has a powerful odor, and despite its folk name, Devil’s Dung, it is used as a sexual stimulant in Ayurvedic medicine.

Avocado - The Mexicans called the avocado tree the “testicle tree,” since the fruit dangles down in pairs. The sensual texture of avocado adds to its reputation.

Banana - The banana flower resembles the phallus. Islamic tales say that Adam and Eve covered their sexual parts with banana leaves rather than the more common fig leaves.

Cherry - Sensuously red and juicy, and containing a potent symbol of new life inside the stone. “Popping the cherry” is a slang term for losing one’s virginity.

Chocolate - The melting point of chocolate is the same as that of blood temperature, and so its mouthfeel alone is a sensual experience. Added to this, chocolate contains mood-lifting substances, including phenylethylamine which, when released into the bloodstream, induce feelings of euphoria. Still arguably the most popular food given as a gesture of love. When the 16th century Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés heard about its reputation as an aphrodisiac, he planted two thousand trees.

Cinnamon - The glorious scent of cinnamon was reputedly used as oil by the Queen of Sheba to help her capture the attention of King Solomon.

Cloves - Because they resemble little phalluses, cloves were considered to enhance male potency. The clove tree was planted to signify the birth of a baby boy in certain parts of Indonesia, the health of the tree reflecting the health of the child as it grew up.

Coriander - Also comes under the category of seeds. Reputed to stimulate appetites of all kinds.

Fennel - The Egyptians who used this as a sexual stimulant cannot have known that it contains plant estrogens that can help balance female hormones. These estrogens also enhance the breasts.

Fig - The plethora of tiny seeds inside the fig is symbolic of fertility, and the moist plumpness of the fruit has a very sensual, feminine element to it.

Ginger and ginseng - Considered to have aphrodisiac powers because of their sharp sensual taste, and because their roots resemble the human form.

Honey - The sweetness of honey made it a rarity for ancient man. It is likely to have given humankind its first instance of alcohol in the form of mead, and its intoxicating effect has distinct aphrodisiac qualities. Bees are themselves symbols of fertility, and honey gives its name to the honeymoon period spent by newlyweds immediately after their marriage.

Mint - A Greek legend says that Menthe, a beautiful nymph, was transformed into the herb because Persephone was jealous of the beautiful scent that captivated her husband, Pluto.

Oyster - The oyster’s resemblance in form, scent, and texture to the female genitalia is renowned. Oysters have had a long history as an aphrodisiac and their reputation is well known. The pearl that is sometimes found inside the oyster was said to increase the powers of arousal, because it resembles the clitoris. Other shellfish, such as mussels, fall into this same category.

Raspberries and strawberries - Libido enhancing because of their color, their many tiny seeds, and their resemblance to nipples.

Star anise - Because of its shape, the star anise was sacred to the Goddess and therefore a potent fertility symbol.

Tomato - Also called the “Love Apple” and is regarded as an aphrodisiac, because of the prolific number of seeds contained within it. However, the name itself is the result of an accidental misinterpretation. Because they were originally a yellow color they were called “Pomo D’or” in Italy, the Apple of Gold. It was also called the “Pomo d’Moro”—the apple of the Moors, referring to its Spanish origins. From here, it was just a slip of the tongue to the French, “Pomme d’Amour,” or Love Apple.

Source Writing Notes: Aphrodisiacs

[iayos]

𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐄𝐖𝐖) !

jjk boys and their icks… because no man is perfect…

jjk boys x implied fem!reader

cw : men being gross, slight nsfw in nanami’s part, very mild misogyny if you squint in megumi’s part, this post was literally just so i could rant kinda

a / n : long time no see… not much to say other than i’ve been busy !!! anyways hope you enjoy :)

yuji itadori - bad grammar

giving him the tamest one tbh because he’s such a sweetheart </3 idk why but i feel like he just has such shitty grammar… like he’s smart ! just not when it comes to grammar. for example, he mixes up his to, too, and two’s, his there’s, and don’t get me started on your vs you’re :/ again he’s the sweetest boy ever ! it’s just the fact he probably failed his lit classes…

megumi fushiguro - “females”…

i was so close to giving this to satoru but i didn’t cause he has shoko to hold him down, megumi on the other hand… look, i don’t think he’d say it in front of girls, but to other dudes, yk ? and i definitely don’t think it’s on purpose to try and be an asshole but it just happens. quickly unlearns it when he says it around maki though.

yuta okkotsu - referring to himself in third person

you guys know how elmo is like, “elmo wants to go to the park,” yeah… yuta does this. and no, it’s not ironically. he definitely thinks it’s cute too and sometimes it is ! but it’s to an extent. like it’s cute the first couple times where he is goes, “yuta loves you,” but then it gets weird and corny when he’s like, “yuta wants to get dinner,” like ermmmm ok…

toge inumaki - fish pics.

as someone who lives in those south i see these OFTEN. for those who don’t know, fish pics are basically when dudes hold up fish they caught while fishing and post pictures of them holding it… i think the main problem with this to me is that a lot of very weird and racist men do it, so that’s why i hate it. anyways i’m 90% sure he has an official art where he’s holding a fish ( i also didn’t know what ick to give him ).

satoru gojo - his height is his whole personality

this shit irks me so bad omg. as someone who’s short ( 5’0 ) and hates seeing other short people make their whole personality their height, it’s even worst when it’s a tall person. satoru is definitely the type to be like, “omg guysss i bumped my head otw hereeee i’m so tallll,” like no you’re just stupid ! he definitely has other icks but this was the main one i could think of… ik he gets on everyone’s nerves.

suguru geto - says “my bad” instead of “im sorry”

another personal one tbh. i hate hate hate when people do this especially if it’s something serious. i remember one time someone pushed me in the mud ( i didn’t fully go on, just my foot ) and i got mud all over my white shoes and they have the audacity to go, “my bad,” like yeah it is your bad lmao. anyways, suguru def does this often especially to shoko. i feel like he’s pretty clumsy and say if shoko’s studying and he knocks over a drink onto her books he’ll say “my bad” and not even attempt to help her clean it up. like dude at least say sorry or something idk ???

nanami kento - calls his dick anything but a dick

“my member” you are grown !!! say dick !!! he does it to be ‘classy’ but like, he is pushing 30 doing this, just say dick. i also think it’s a shame thing ? idk probably hanging out with stsg for most of his teen years rotted his brain so he hates hearing really nasty stuff but he won’t even say penis half the time. like it’s really not that serious nobody wants to call your dick a phallus ( it was also really hard to give him an ick ).

choso - using 🥺 / 🥹

oh BROTHERRRR this one pisses me off. i hate both of those emojis in general but especially when men do it, it’s cornball behavior. like aren’t you supposed to be fighting in wars ? stand up. but i don’t think he has any ill intentions at all, honestly just picks emojis that represent his mood often. however he definitely uses 😂 instead of 😭… sorry choso…

song : ick - lay bankz

[aizenette]

sᴏsᴜᴋᴇ ᴀɪᴢᴇɴ x ᴛᴀɴɪsʜᴀ ᴄʜᴏ̄ᴅʜᴏʀɪ

ᴀᴅᴜʟᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ - ᴅᴏᴍ! ᴛᴀɴɪsʜᴀ, sᴜʙ! ᴀɪᴢᴇɴ, ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴏʀɢᴀsᴍs, ᴀɴᴀʟ sᴇx, ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟ ᴘʟᴀʏ.

Location - The Hidden Estate, Kagamino City – Late Evening

The night was still, the air thick with an unspoken tension as Sōsuke Aizen sat in the study, his mind deep in thought about his recent liberation from Muken—orchestrated by none other than his warden-turned-wife, Tanisha Chōdhori. The hidden estate was quiet, a fortress of solitude nestled far from the prying eyes of Karakura Town.

The tranquility of the moment was interrupted by the soft, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps approaching. Aizen, ever perceptive, raised his head just in time to see Tanisha enter the room.

She was stunning as always, her onyx eyes glinting with a mischievous light, her dark hair cascading down her back like a midnight waterfall.

But there was something different about her tonight—a subtle shift in the air, a change in her usual demeanor.

“Aizen,” Tanisha called softly, her voice melodic yet carrying an edge that made him look up fully. She stood in the doorway, her silhouette bathed in the dim light of the room.

“I’m bored,” she stated bluntly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Aizen raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “And what do you propose we do about that?” His voice was calm, measured, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his caramel eyes.

Tanisha’s smirk widened as she stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the polished wooden floor. She was dressed casually, but the way she carried herself—confident, almost predatory—made her seem far more imposing.

“I want to try something new,” she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent that sent a shiver of anticipation through Aizen. “Get on your knees, Aizen.”

For a moment, Aizen was taken aback. Tanisha had never spoken to him in such a commanding tone before, and it was a strange feeling for him to be on the receiving end of such authority. Nevertheless, he complied, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly lowered himself to the floor.

“So, this is how you wish to entertain yourself?” Aizen’s voice was teasing, but there was an edge of uncertainty. He assumed she simply wanted him at a lower height, perhaps to ride his face as she often did during their more intimate moments. His mind raced with possibilities, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

Tanisha’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin as she towered over him, her presence suddenly more intimidating than it had ever been. “Not quite,” she purred, her voice dripping with a sultry amusement.

Aizen’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her, his confusion growing by the second. Then, without warning, a crystalline aura began to swirl around Tanisha.

Aizen’s eyes widened as he sensed the shift in her spiritual energy, his mind quickly realizing that she was summoning her Shikai; Kurisutaru no hōyō.

He had seen her use it in battle before, but never like this.

The air around them seemed to crackle with energy as a crystalline object began to materialize in front of Tanisha, its shape becoming more defined with each passing second.

Aizen’s confusion turned to shock as he saw the object for what it was—a perfectly formed crystal phallus, glinting ominously in the dim light.

“Tanisha, what—” Aizen began, but his words were cut off as Tanisha moved with a speed that even he couldn’t anticipate.

In one fluid motion, she attached the crystalline cock to a strap that seemed to materialize around her waist, securing it in place with a practiced ease.

“I said, get on your knees,” Tanisha repeated, her voice now laced with an authority that brooked no argument. There was a gleam in her eyes, one that Aizen had never seen before—pure, unbridled dominance.

Aizen’s mouth went dry as he realized what was happening. He, the man who had manipulated countless souls, who had once sought to overthrow the Soul King himself, was now at the mercy of his wife’s whims. And the realization sent a jolt of something unfamiliar through him—fear mixed with excitement.

Tanisha took a step forward, the tip of the crystal phallus brushing against Aizen’s lips. “Open,” she commanded, her voice a husky whisper. For the first time in a long while, Aizen felt truly powerless, his mind reeling from the sudden shift in their dynamic.

But despite the confusion, despite the shock, he found himself obeying.

He opened his mouth, and Tanisha wasted no time in pushing the crystal cock past his lips, her movements firm and unrelenting.

Aizen gagged as the cold, hard object filled his mouth, pressing against the back of his throat. His hands instinctively moved to grab her hips, but Tanisha was having none of it.

“Hands down,” she ordered, her voice sharp as she placed a firm hand on his head, holding him in place. Aizen’s hands fell to his sides, his mind racing. He had never imagined Tanisha would dominate him like this, and the sensation was both foreign and exhilarating.

Tanisha began to thrust, each movement deliberate and forceful. Aizen gagged again, his throat constricting around the crystal phallus as it slid in and out of his mouth. His eyes watered as he struggled to keep up with her pace, but Tanisha showed no mercy.

“Such a good boy,” Tanisha cooed, her voice laced with mockery. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be on your knees for me, Aizen. How does it feel to be at my mercy?”

Aizen couldn’t respond, not with his mouth full and his mind in turmoil. He had always been the one in control, the one who pulled the strings. But now, as Tanisha continued to thrust into his mouth, he realized that he had underestimated her. She had always been strong, capable, but this... this was a side of her he had never seen before. A side that thrilled him, even as it terrified him.

Tanisha’s pace quickened, her hips snapping forward with increasing intensity. Aizen’s gagging grew louder, his body trembling as he fought to keep up with her relentless rhythm.

The crystal phallus was unyielding, a manifestation of Tanisha’s power, and it was clear that she was enjoying every second of her dominance.Aizen’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and what he saw there made his heart skip a beat.

Tanisha’s onyx eyes were dark with lust, her lips parted in a feral grin as she looked down at him. There was no trace of the affectionate woman who had once idolized him—only a predator who had finally cornered her prey.

And despite everything, Aizen couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through him. This was new, exciting, and though he had never imagined himself in such a position, he found that he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would.

Tanisha’s grip tightened on his head as she thrust one final time, her hips slamming forward with a force that made Aizen choke. She held him there for a moment, her crystal phallus buried deep in his throat, before slowly pulling back, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

“Well done, Mayoguma,” she purred, using the nickname she had given him long ago as a child. “You’ve surprised me tonight. Perhaps we should do this more often.”

Aizen coughed as he finally caught his breath, his mind still reeling from the experience. He looked up at Tanisha, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regained his composure. “You are full of surprises, Tanisha.”

Aizen barely had a moment to recover from the shock of what had just transpired when Tanisha moved again, swift and purposeful. With a fluid motion, she grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him onto the bed behind him. The force of her actions sent a thrill through him, his mind still reeling from the overwhelming shift in power dynamics.

His back hit the bed with a soft thud, and before he could react, Tanisha was on him, her hands already tugging at the fabric of his robes. There was a ferocity to her movements, a hunger that Aizen had never seen in her before, and it both excited and unnerved him.

“Tanisha…” he began, his voice a low rasp, but she silenced him with a look, her eyes blazing with a mix of lust and determination.

“No talking,” she ordered, her voice firm and unwavering. “Tonight, you’re mine to do with as I please.”

Aizen’s breath hitched at the command. He, who had always been the one in control, was now the one being controlled, and the realization sent a shiver down his spine. There was something undeniably thrilling about the way Tanisha was taking charge, about the way she was dominating him so completely.

In one swift motion, Tanisha ripped open Aizen’s robes, the fabric tearing easily under her strength. The cool air of the room hit his bare skin, causing goosebumps to rise on his flesh.

His body was exposed, vulnerable in a way that he had never been before, and Tanisha took full advantage of it.She paused for a moment, her gaze raking over his body with an appreciative gleam in her eyes.

Aizen’s cock, already half-hard from the earlier encounter, twitched under her intense scrutiny, and a flush crept up his neck as he realized just how aroused he was by all of this.

A predatory smile curved Tanisha’s lips as she leaned down, her long hair brushing against his chest as she kissed a trail down his sternum.

Aizen’s breath caught in his throat as her lips moved lower, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. When she reached his cock, she paused, looking up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes.

“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. “So hard, so eager… You really are enjoying this, aren’t you, Aizen?”

Aizen’s jaw clenched, his pride warring with the undeniable pleasure that was coursing through him. “I never thought… you would take control like this,” he admitted, his voice strained.

Tanisha chuckled, the sound low and seductive. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Aizen. But you’ll learn.”

With that, she moved, her hands gripping his thighs as she repositioned herself above him.

Aizen’s heart raced as he watched her, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He had always been the one to dictate the terms of their relationship, to guide their encounters, but now… now he was at her mercy, and he wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or thrilled.

Tanisha’s hands were on his ass now, her fingers digging into the firm flesh as she spread his cheeks apart.

Aizen’s breath caught as he realized what she was about to do, and a wave of apprehension washed over him. “Tanisha, wait—” he started, but once again, she silenced him with a sharp look. “Did I tell you to speak?” she asked, her tone icy as she met his gaze.

Aizen’s words died on his lips, his throat tightening as he shook his head.

“That’s what I thought,” Tanisha said, her voice softening slightly as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “Just relax, Aizen. Let me take care of everything.”

Aizen’s heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to relax, his muscles unclenching as he submitted to her will. He felt her warm breath against his skin as she kissed his neck, her lips trailing down his spine as she positioned herself between his legs.

Then, without warning, Tanisha spit onto his ass, the warm liquid landing on his exposed flesh with a wet splat.

Aizen flinched, the sensation foreign and unexpected, but before he could react, Tanisha’s fingers were there, spreading the saliva across his skin as she prepared him for what was to come.

Aizen’s breath came in shallow gasps as he felt her fingers probing at his entrance, the slickness of her saliva making it easier for her to slide one finger inside. He groaned, his body tensing at the intrusion, but Tanisha was patient, her movements slow and deliberate as she worked to open him up.

“Relax,” she murmured again, her voice soothing as she added a second finger, scissoring them inside him to stretch him further. “You can take it. I know you can.”

Aizen’s head fell back against the pillows as he tried to focus on her voice, on the sensation of her fingers inside him. It was uncomfortable, foreign, but there was a certain pleasure to it as well—a pleasure that grew as she continued to prepare him.

When Tanisha finally withdrew her fingers, Aizen felt a pang of loss, his body already craving more. But that craving was quickly replaced by apprehension as he felt the cold, hard tip of the crystal phallus press against his entrance.

He tensed instinctively, but Tanisha’s hands were there, firm on his hips as she positioned herself above him. “Breathe,” she instructed, her voice calm and controlled. “I’m going to take care of you, Aizen. Just trust me.”

Aizen’s eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. There was something in her gaze—something fierce and protective, yet filled with a deep, unspoken affection.

Despite the power dynamic, despite the overwhelming dominance she was exerting over him, Aizen realized that this was still Tanisha—the woman who had freed him, the woman who had chosen him.

And in that moment, he trusted her completely.He exhaled slowly, forcing his body to relax as Tanisha began to push forward, the crystal phallus stretching him open with a slow, deliberate pressure.

Aizen gritted his teeth, his hands clenching the sheets as he tried to focus on his breathing, on the sensation of being filled so completely.

“Good boy,” Tanisha praised, her voice a husky whisper as she continued to press forward, inch by inch. “You’re doing so well, Aizen. Just a little more…”

Aizen’s mind was a haze of sensation, a mix of discomfort and pleasure that left him reeling. He had never experienced anything like this before—never imagined that he would find himself in such a vulnerable position.

But as Tanisha finally seated herself fully inside him, a low moan escaped his lips, the feeling of fullness overwhelming him.Tanisha paused for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the sensation before she began to move.

Her thrusts were slow at first, each movement measured and controlled as she watched his face for any signs of discomfort. But as Aizen’s body began to relax further, as his breathing evened out and his moans became more frequent, Tanisha’s pace quickened. The crystal phallus slid in and out of him with a slick, rhythmic motion, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

“Tanisha…” Aizen groaned, his voice hoarse as he clung to the sheets, his body writhing beneath her. “It feels…”

“I know,” Tanisha murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction as she continued to fuck him, her hips snapping forward with increasing intensity. “Just let go, Aizen. Let me take care of everything.”

Aizen’s mind was a whirl of sensation, his body lost in the rhythm of her movements. The feeling of the crystal phallus inside him, the slickness of her saliva still coating his skin, the pressure of her hands on his hips—it was all too much, too overwhelming, and yet he didn’t want it to stop.

As Tanisha’s thrusts grew faster, more forceful, Aizen’s moans turned into gasps, his body trembling as he felt the pleasure building inside him. His cock, fully hard now, twitched with every thrust, the sensation of being filled driving him closer and closer to the edge.

“Tanisha, I’m going to—” he started, but Tanisha cut him off with a sharp thrust that sent a shockwave of pleasure through his body.

“Not yet,” she commanded, her voice breathless but firm. “You’ll come when I say you can, Aizen.”

Aizen’s body tensed, his mind reeling from the intensity of it all. He was so close, so close to the edge, and the thought of holding back, of waiting for her permission, was almost unbearable. But he obeyed, his body shaking with the effort of holding back as Tanisha continued to fuck him with an unrelenting rhythm.

“Good boy,” Tanisha praised again, her voice a husky whisper as she watched him struggle beneath her. “You’re doing so well, Aizen. Just a little longer…”

Aizen’s eyes squeezed shut, his breathing ragged as he fought to hold on. The pleasure was overwhelming, a burning sensation that threatened to consume him, and yet he held back, waiting for the moment when she would allow him to let go.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tanisha leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “Now, Aizen,” Tanisha whispered, her voice carrying the final command.

The permission hit Aizen like a lightning strike, his body immediately responding to her words. He didn’t even have time to brace himself before the orgasm tore through him, every muscle in his body tensing as his cock twitched violently.

A deep, guttural moan escaped his lips as his release began, ropes of thick, hot cum spurting from his cock, painting his stomach and the sheets beneath him.

Tanisha watched with a satisfied smirk, her eyes gleaming as she continued her relentless assault on his ass. The crystal phallus moved in and out of him with unyielding precision, even as his body convulsed with the force of his orgasm. She didn’t slow down, didn’t offer him any reprieve—instead, she kept thrusting, each movement sending shockwaves through his overstimulated body.

Aizen’s mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, the intensity of his release mingling with the continued sensation of being fucked. His cock kept twitching, more cum spilling from him even as his orgasm began to ebb, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, Tanisha…” he gasped, his voice thick with need. His mind was spinning, his body overwhelmed by the mix of sensations. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of Tanisha inside him, the way she dominated him so completely.

Tanisha’s smirk widened at his response, her hips never slowing as she pounded into him. “Look at you, Aizen,” she purred, her voice filled with a dark amusement. “Cumming so hard just from being fucked… You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Aizen’s cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and arousal, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep from crying out.

His pride was screaming at him to resist, to regain some semblance of control, but his body betrayed him, his hips moving instinctively to meet her thrusts, even as his mind begged for more. “Yes… Tanisha… harder…” he panted, his voice trembling with desperation. He could hardly believe the words that were leaving his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed more—needed to feel her, to be completely overwhelmed by her.

The sensation was too intense, too raw, and all he could do was surrender to it.

Tanisha’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at his needy plea. “Begging now, are we?” she teased, her tone dripping with condescension as she leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Aizen… So desperate, so vulnerable.”

Aizen’s breath hitched at her words, his body shivering with a mix of humiliation and arousal. He could hardly believe that he was reduced to this—begging, pleading for her to fuck him harder, to push him past the limits of his control.

But even in his vulnerable state, there was a part of him that relished the feeling. This was Tanisha, his wife, his partner, the one person who had seen him at his lowest and had still chosen him. The one person who could challenge him, who could dominate him so completely. “Please… Tanisha… harder… fuck me harder…” Aizen’s voice was raw, his words slurred with desperation. His body was trembling beneath her, his cock still pulsing with the remnants of his orgasm, even as she continued to pound into him without mercy.

Tanisha’s eyes darkened at his plea, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she complied with his request. She adjusted her angle, driving the crystal phallus deeper into him with each thrust, her hips slamming against his ass with a force that made the bed creak beneath them.

Aizen’s hands clenched the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to hold himself together. The sensation was overwhelming, each thrust pushing him closer and closer to the edge of his sanity. He could feel himself unraveling, the pleasure and pain merging into a singular, intense sensation that left him shaking.

“Fuck… Tanisha…” he groaned, his voice breaking as his mind struggled to keep up with the onslaught. His body was betraying him, every nerve ending screaming in a mix of ecstasy and agony. He had never felt so exposed, so completely at someone else’s mercy.

Tanisha’s smirk only widened as she watched him struggle. She could see the way his body trembled beneath her, the way his muscles tensed with each thrust. It was intoxicating, the sight of Aizen—her proud, powerful husband—reduced to a pleading, desperate mess beneath her.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Aizen,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “Taking everything I give you… begging for more… I could do this all night.”

Aizen’s mind was spinning, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he tried to process her words. The intensity of the sensations flooding his body was too much, and he could feel himself slipping further and further into the abyss of his own desire.

“Tanisha… please…” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he clung to the last shreds of his control. “I can’t… I can’t take it…”

Tanisha’s eyes softened slightly at his plea, but her movements didn’t slow. “You can take it, Aizen,” she murmured, her voice soothing even as her hips continued their relentless assault. “I know you can. Just let go… let me take you there.”

Aizen’s eyes squeezed shut, his body tensing as he surrendered completely to her. There was no point in fighting it anymore—no point in trying to maintain control. He was at her mercy, and the realization sent a shiver of both fear and excitement through him.

Tanisha’s thrusts grew faster, more forceful, the crystal phallus hitting that perfect spot inside him with every movement. Aizen’s mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, the two sensations merging into one overwhelming feeling that consumed him entirely. His breath hitched as he felt another orgasm building within him, the sensation even more intense than the first. His cock twitched, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge, the pleasure almost too much to bear. “Tanisha… I’m going to—” he gasped, his voice raw with need.

“Not yet,” Tanisha commanded, her voice firm as she continued to thrust into him with relentless precision. “You’ll come when I say, Aizen. Do you understand?”

Aizen’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling from the intensity of her words. He was so close, so close to the edge, but he obeyed, holding back with every ounce of strength he had left.

“Good boy,” Tanisha purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Just a little longer… You’re doing so well, Aizen.”

Aizen’s body trembled beneath her, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he fought to hold back. The sensation of being filled, of being dominated so completely, was overwhelming, and he could feel himself unraveling with every passing second.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tanisha leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Now, Aizen. Let go.”

The command was all he needed. Aizen’s body convulsed as the orgasm tore through him, even more intense than the first. His cock twitched violently as thick, hot ropes of cum spurted from him once again, coating his stomach and the sheets beneath him. He cried out, his voice hoarse and broken as the pleasure overwhelmed him, every muscle in his body tensing as he came hard, the sensation almost too intense to bear.

But even as he came, Tanisha didn’t stop. She kept fucking him, her hips moving with a relentless rhythm, driving the crystal phallus deeper into him with each thrust. Aizen’s mind was a whirlwind of sensation, his body shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm even as she continued to pound into him.

“Tanisha… fuck…” he gasped, his voice trembling as he struggled to keep up with her pace. The pleasure was too much, his body too sensitive, but he didn’t want it to stop. He needed more, craved more, even as his mind screamed at him to beg for mercy.

Tanisha’s eyes darkened with lust as she watched him, her hips moving with a feral intensity. She could see the way his body trembled beneath her, the way he clung to the sheets as if they were his only anchor in the storm of sensation she was unleashing upon him.

“You’re mine, Aizen,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. “Mine to fuck, mine to dominate… and you love it, don’t you?”

Aizen’s breath hitched at her words, his mind reeling from the intensity of her declaration. He had always been the one in control, the one who dictated the terms of their relationship, but now… now he was completely at her mercy, and the realization sent a shiver down his spine.

“Yes… Tanisha… I’m yours…” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he surrendered completely to her.

His body was a trembling, desperate mess beneath her, his mind lost in the overwhelming sensation of being dominated so completely.

Tanisha’s eyes were filled with a dark, predatory satisfaction as she continued to thrust into Aizen with relentless precision.

His body trembled beneath her, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations she was inflicting upon him. Each thrust of the crystalline phallus drove him closer to the brink, his mind a chaotic swirl of pleasure and pain, submission and desire.

“You’re mine,” she murmured again, her voice dripping with possession as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Mine to dominate, mine to control…”

Aizen’s breath hitched at her words, his body quaking beneath her. He was lost in the storm of sensations, completely at her mercy, and the realization only heightened his arousal. He had never imagined himself in such a position—on his back, submitting entirely to someone else’s will—but here he was, and every fiber of his being craved more.

“Tanisha… please…” Aizen’s voice was ragged, trembling with desperation. He could feel another orgasm building within him, more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced. His cock twitched violently, throbbing with need, but Tanisha’s pace never faltered.

She was driving him mad, pushing him to his limits, and he was powerless to resist. With one final, forceful thrust, Tanisha buried the crystal phallus deep inside him, holding it there as she reached the peak of her own pleasure.

Aizen’s eyes widened in shock as he felt the crystalline structure pulse inside him, flooding his body with a surge of reiatsu. The sensation was overwhelming—intense, electric. Aizen’s entire body convulsed as Tanisha’s reiatsu coursed through him, filling him completely. It was as if every nerve ending in his body had been set on fire, the energy surging through him with an intensity that bordered on agony.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His body was locked in place, trembling uncontrollably as Tanisha held him tight, her grip on his hips unyielding. She was in complete control, and he was utterly at her mercy.

Tanisha’s eyes were half-lidded with pleasure as she reached down, her hand wrapping around Aizen’s throbbing cock. She pumped him slowly, deliberately, her grip firm as she squeezed his thick length, sending waves of pleasure shooting through his already overstimulated body.

“Tanisha… I… I can’t…” Aizen gasped, his voice cracking as he struggled to form coherent words. The pressure inside him was too much, the sensation of her hand on his cock combined with the reiatsu surging through him pushing him to the edge of madness. “Shh… you can take it,” Tanisha whispered, her voice a soft, sultry purr as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. “Just let go, Aizen… let me take you there…”

And then, with a final surge of reiatsu, Tanisha released the full force of her energy into him.

Aizen’s body arched off the bed, his back bowing as the intense, electric surge of energy slammed into his cock. His vision went white, his mind blank as the orgasm tore through him, far more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced before. Every muscle in his body tensed, his hands clawing at the sheets as he let out a scream—a raw, primal sound that echoed through the room.

“TANISHA!”

Cum shot from his cock in thick, hot ropes, splattering across his stomach and chest, painting the sheets beneath him. The force of his orgasm was earth-shattering, each wave of pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping and trembling.

Tanisha watched him with a look of pure satisfaction, her grip on his cock never wavering as she continued to pump him through his release.

The crystal phallus pulsed inside him, the sensation almost too much to bear, but he was lost in the overwhelming pleasure, unable to do anything but ride the wave of his orgasm until it finally ebbed.

Aizen’s scream eventually faded into a hoarse whimper, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release. His vision slowly returned, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. He had never experienced anything like that—never felt so completely and utterly overwhelmed by pleasure.

“Tanisha…” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he struggled to catch his breath.

Tanisha’s expression softened slightly as she released his cock, her hand moving to gently stroke his cheek. “You did so well, Aizen,” she murmured, her voice filled with affection as she leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Such a good boy…”

Aizen’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting hers. There was a tenderness in her eyes that contrasted sharply with the intensity of what had just transpired, and it made his heart swell with a strange mix of emotions. “Tanisha… I didn’t know… you could be like this,” he admitted, his voice still shaky.

Tanisha smiled softly, her fingers brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Aizen,” she said, her voice gentle. “But I think you’re starting to understand.”

Aizen’s breath hitched slightly as he looked up at her, his mind still reeling from the intensity of their encounter. “I never imagined… I would be so… powerless,” he admitted, his voice a mix of wonder and disbelief.

Tanisha’s smile widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and satisfaction. “Power isn’t always about control, Aizen,” she said softly. “Sometimes… it’s about trust.”

Aizen blinked, his gaze softening as he considered her words. It was true—he had trusted her completely in that moment, allowed himself to be vulnerable in a way he had never done before. And the result… had been something beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Tanisha… I…” Aizen’s voice trailed off, his emotions too complex to put into words. Tanisha seemed to understand, her smile turning gentle as she leaned down to kiss him softly. “You don’t have to say anything, Aizen,” she whispered against his lips. “Just know that I’m here… and that I’ll always take care of you.”

Aizen’s heart swelled at her words, his body relaxing as the last remnants of his orgasm faded away. He was exhausted, every muscle in his body aching from the intensity of their encounter, but there was a warmth in his chest that made it all worth it.

He reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. “Thank you, Tanisha,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. “For everything.”

Tanisha’s eyes softened, her hand covering his as she leaned into his touch. “Always, Aizen,” she whispered. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Aizen closed his eyes, letting out a contented sigh as he allowed himself to fully relax. For the first time in a long while, he felt at peace—completely and utterly at ease in the presence of the woman he loved.

Tanisha shifted slightly, gently pulling the crystal phallus from his body. Aizen let out a soft whimper at the sensation, his muscles quivering as the object left him. Tanisha quickly discarded the crystalline structure, her attention focused entirely on Aizen as she moved to lie beside him, her arms wrapping around him in a gentle embrace.

Aizen let out a contented sigh as he nuzzled into her embrace, his body relaxing completely against hers. The warmth of her body against his was comforting, soothing the lingering ache in his muscles. They lay there in silence for a long moment, the only sound in the room the soft rustling of the sheets as they shifted slightly in each other’s arms. Aizen could feel the steady rise and fall of Tanisha’s chest beneath his cheek, the rhythmic beat of her heart a soothing lullaby that slowly eased him into a state of blissful contentment.

Tanisha’s fingers gently trailed through his hair, her touch light and comforting. “You were amazing tonight, Aizen,” she whispered, her voice filled with affection. “I’m so proud of you.”

Aizen’s heart swelled at her words, his cheeks flushing slightly as he buried his face against her neck. “I didn’t know I could… feel like that,” he admitted, his voice muffled against her skin.

Tanisha smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s okay, Aizen,” she murmured. “You don’t have to understand it right away. Just know that I’m here… and that I’ll always be here to guide you.”

Aizen nodded slightly, his body relaxing further against hers. He had never felt so completely and utterly safe—so cherished and cared for. It was a feeling that he had never experienced before, and it was something he knew he would never forget. “I trust you, Tanisha,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “Completely.”

Tanisha’s smile widened, her arms tightening around him as she pressed another kiss to his forehead. “And I’ll never betray that trust, Aizen,” she murmured. “I promise.”

Aizen’s eyes fluttered closed as he let out a contented sigh, his body finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been slowly creeping up on him. In Tanisha’s arms, he felt completely and utterly at peace—like he had finally found the one place in the world where he truly belonged.Tanisha watched as Aizen slowly drifted off to sleep, her heart swelling with love and affection for the man in her arms.

And she promised herself she'd never let this man leave.

[violet-eng]

You give Al haitham! a bj I NSFW Alhaitham x fem!render🔞

Summary: So.. Alhaitham is now the ActingSrand Sage, and you, as the great gf you arefind Alhaitham to give him a "prize"

Tw: -+18 content, MDNI, blowjob (m!receiving,outdoors sex, established relationship.Nsfw under the cut

MDNI

2k words

Cr: Ahriii (@ahriii7) on X bc gosh that's what I imagined.

The news of Alhaitham's appointment as Acting Grand Sage has crept into your ears as you walk through the marketplace, lost in your riotous thoughts about your latest expedition.....

You hurry out of the city, eager and ready, to the place where you and he usually meet briefly, where the grass is low, the dew of the flowers floats in the air, the sweet nectar of nature, all on the shore of a lake, your lake.You find Alhaitham leaning against the trunk of a tree, holding a book in his hands, flower petals dancing in the wind, landing on his ashen hair. You approach him, and he greets you with a hint of a smile. Only you are able to draw that intimate, empathetic look from his stoic face.

"Congratulations, Acting Grand Sage," you say, sitting down next to him, your hands on the grass, damp from the dew and the proximity of the lake.

Alhaitham looks at you, a cold look for the average observer, a grateful look at your appreciations and experiences. You discover his eyes by pushing aside the fine gray locks on his forehead, meeting his loving orbs with crimson sparkles amidst a turquoise sea. Your fingers trace a path down his cheek, his skin pale and smooth, warm to your touch, until you reach his lips, tasting the corner with your digits.

"I am proud of you," you whisper, this small intimate space, just for the two of you, deserves no more than a chaste whisper.

"The title is a mere formality," he counters, his voice in a whisper, equal to yours, his hand clasping yours, on his cheek.

"Humble," you add, settling on your knees, skirt gathered over your thighs, soft flesh exposed to the grass, bathed in natural nectar, "just the way I like you.

You straddle him, dropping your weight onto his hips. Alhaitham brings his hands to your hips, sliding them over your ass in subtle movements, pure instinct taking hold of him, this man so rational and studied before you. The air becomes heavy, the space between you a chasm between your growing lust. His eyes shine, absorbed in your figure, in the contours of your face and the curve of your lips. He wants to kiss you, he's dying to, he's wanted to since you sat next to him.Alhaitham takes your chin between his fingers, his fingertips running along the angle of your chin, tilting your head to get better access to your lips. He brings his mouth to yours in a chaste, sweet, almost shy kiss that grows in intensity as the seconds pass.

He catches your lower lip with a soft nibble that shows his thirst for you, for the sweet nectar your skin gives off when he touches you, when he kisses you as he's kissing you right now. Your hands find his shoulders, his sculpted muscles feigning support for your palms. One of your hands runs up the nape of his neck, finding the base of his hair, tangling the digits between his arranged curls, making inroads into the ashen jungle of his hair.You share a wet kiss, your tongues exploring each other's every nook and cranny. Desperation grows as your hips rub against his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. The equivalent response to your action, swift and rigid, is the erect phallus beneath your clothed center.

Alhaitham grunts hoarsely, a masculine sound, as he breaks the kiss and stares at the mess you have made between his legs. His gaze dances between your face and his erection, studying the branches of possible outcomes to the current situation.Sinking into his mental expertise, he doesn't notice that you have changed your position on him. With your knees and elbows on the grass, you pull his pants off, or try to.

"Y/n, not here," the sound his lips make is drowned out by the burning sensation that spreads through his legs. The fire of excitement spreads to his chest and forehead, beads of warm sweat overflowing his eyebrows.

"There's no one around," the murmur is subtle, your good manners replaced by your lust, your hands releasing the excited excerpt of him, growing in desire as he feels contact with the open air.The tip, thick and with pre-cum surrounding its outline, the base long and broad, a throbbing mess. That part that longs to be tasted, to be devoured by your lips and to furrow the smooth folds of your throat. Alhaitham can't stop an electric shock from running down his spine as the image of your face, distorted by the penetration of his cock into your mouth, assaults his mind, a vision built on memories, past encounters.you gather your hair into a bow, Alhaitham watching every minute change in your movements, studying your anatomy, the way you arch your back, your hands behind your head as your chest pushes forward toward him.

Your cleavage gives access to his curious eyes, which see the silhouette of your breasts through the fabric."Not a good idea," he insists, against his growing instincts, against the insidious desire that overshadows rationality.

"Let me spoil you a little," you murmur, and you perceive a purr from the back of his throat, a blissful indicator of his bubbling satisfaction, "I must reward you for such an effort, at your age the attainment of titles of such caliber is a feast".Alhaitham takes one last look around, making sure no one witnesses the mess you're making of him, even though he knows you won't be conducting the symphony for long. Giving in to his baser instincts, to the sensitive, hot anticipation that has built up between the two of you, Alhaitham nods his head in a subtle, almost imperceptible movement, as if to absolve himself of the indecency that is about to take place.

You straddle him, dropping your weight onto his hips. Alhaitham brings his hands to your hips, sliding them over your ass in subtle movements, pure instinct taking hold of him, this man so rational and studied before you. The air becomes heavy, the space between you a chasm between your growing lust. His eyes shine, absorbed in your figure, in the contours of your face and the curve of your lips. He wants to kiss you, he's dying to, he's wanted to since you sat next to him.

Alhaitham takes your chin between his fingers, his fingertips running along the angle of your chin, tilting your head to get better access to your lips. He brings his mouth to yours in a chaste, sweet, almost shy kiss that grows in intensity as the seconds pass. He catches your lower lip with a soft nibble that shows his thirst for you, for the sweet nectar your skin gives off when he touches you, when he kisses you as he's kissing you right now. Your hands find his shoulders, his sculpted muscles feigning support for your palms.

One of your hands runs up the nape of his neck, finding the base of his hair, tangling the digits between his arranged curls, making inroads into the ashen jungle of his hair.You share a wet kiss, your tongues exploring each other's every nook and cranny. Desperation grows as your hips rub against his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. The equivalent response to your action, swift and rigid, is the erect phallus beneath your clothed center. Alhaitham grunts hoarsely, a masculine sound, as he breaks the kiss and stares at the mess you have made between his legs. His gaze dances between your face and his erection, studying the branches of possible outcomes to the current situation.

Sinking into his mental expertise, he doesn't notice that you have changed your position on him. With your knees and elbows on the grass, you pull his pants off, or try to.

"Y/n, not here," the sound his lips make is drowned out by the burning sensation that spreads through his legs. The fire of excitement spreads to his chest and forehead, beads of warm sweat overflowing his eyebrows.

"There's no one around," the murmur is subtle, your good manners replaced by your lust, your hands releasing the excited excerpt of him, growing in desire as he feels contact with the open air.

The tip, thick and with pre-cum surrounding its outline, the base long and broad, a throbbing mess. That part that longs to be tasted, to be devoured by your lips and to furrow the smooth folds of your throat. Alhaitham can't stop an electric shock from running down his spine as the image of your face, distorted by the penetration of his cock into your mouth, assaults his mind, a vision built on memories, past encounters.you gather your hair into a bow, Alhaitham watching every minute change in your movements, studying your anatomy, the way you arch your back, your hands behind your head as your chest pushes forward toward him. Your cleavage gives access to his curious eyes, which see the silhouette of your breasts through the fabric.

"Not a good idea," he insists, against his growing instincts, against the insidious desire that overshadows rationality.

"Let me spoil you a little," you murmur, and you perceive a purr from the back of his throat, a blissful indicator of his bubbling satisfaction, "I must reward you for such an effort, at your age the attainment of titles of such caliber is a feast".

Alhaitham takes one last look around, making sure no one witnesses the mess you're making of him, even though he knows you won't be conducting the symphony for long. Giving in to his baser instincts, to the sensitive, hot anticipation that has built up between the two of you, Alhaitham nods his head in a subtle, almost imperceptible movement, as if to absolve himself of the indecency that is about to take place.

Your hands perfectly frame the vertices of his erection, blissful fingers smooth against his sensitive skin, your palms molding to the expanse of his flesh, valleys known and explored, familiarity providing the right atmosphere. A deep sigh escapes from the back of his throat, falling to his lips in growing fervor at the pleasurable sensation the gentle alternating motion of your hands elicits from him. Alhaitham's heartbeat, almost as audible as the subtle, trembling, choked moans that leap from his chest, penetrate his ears, the blood flow swirling in the innermost corners."Whew, baby~" he slurred the grainy words, remnants of composure in his voice, his throat eroding his musical compliment, his hips parting slightly from the floor in an attempt to get more friction on your velvety hands."Patience," you coo as your hands squeeze his extension sharply. Alhaithman's chin contracts in a spasm, a worldly grimace of how well your hands are working him, as his lips, parted in a perfect 'o', utter the most mellifluous sounds ever heard from him.

Alhaithman's moans are lost amidst the crash of the nearby waterfall against the rocks, beautifully deposited amidst rippling seaweed, the gasps, wide and low, emerging from deep within his chest, the heart tangled in an elixir of sensations and pains, so submitted to you, so exposed… not the way the Acting Grand Sage should behave, no….

For he has always been the living image of an ideal scholar. Inconsistencies torment him, logic and formality rob him of the ability to allow himself to enjoy this afternoon with you, your hands so skillfully igniting sparks in his legs and swelling his balls.With his head thrown back, Alhaitham gives in to the dark desires of his baser instincts, ignoring the paradigm of his title and position in the Academy.

And his reactions are so ingrained in you that you notice the change in his posture, the change in his breathing pattern, and the anxious hesitation of his hands. His fingers move like hooks, painful spasms in his joints, his silhouette indicates what he desires, what reaches deep to escape him.

With every groan, every throbbing and every exaltation, Alhatitham sheds his virtues, his famous stoicism, and submits to your touch, to your warm, fine caresses on his cock, which feels so painfully well cared for by your palms.His chest is abused by the frantic beating of his heart, by the way his lungs swell for air, shuddering gasps escape his lips as he feels your tongue wipe away the drops of pre-cum that drip like pearls from his cock.

The familiar bitter sweetness permeates your taste buds. Your name escapes his lips in a plea, a muffled moan following the last syllable of your name. The frenzy of desire to be devoured by your mouth dulls the last drop of dignity the scribe has left."So pretty," he flatters, trying to appeal to your kindness, to free him from the torment of your tongue. You smile over his expanse, the warmth of your breath on his sensitive skin sending shock waves up his throat, where he stifles any number of embarrassing sounds.Your lips finally make the move Grand Sage craves, parting perfectly in an 'o' to give him access to his big fat cock in your mouth. The breath of your gasps embrace his length as it slides over your tongue, the taste of his skin mingling with your saliva, the way your throat tightens as he advances inside you.

"I so needed your mouth, y/n," he murmurs, so low you can barely hear him, as subtle as he is dirty, his words like granite on his wet lips.Your tongue dances around his phallus, taking it into your mouth in an explosion of pleasure and the burning caresses of your palate rubbing against its pulsating surface. Alhaitham falls to the lowest of his instincts as he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, grabbing your hair in a fist and tangling it in his slender, long fingers to bring your head further down on his cock.

You feel the penetration down your throat, across the curve of your arch, down of your neck, the rings of your throat cavity scraping his length, the nausea coming and your watery eyes staring into his.

"So accommodating, my y/n, not even the Akasha has enough knowledge for someone to be able to do this as well as you," he expresses as he watches you from his position, the height giving him some authority over you, the imposing posture over your figure.

Your eyelashes flutter as pearls of tears hang from your eyes, your gaze blurry, raging ecstasy. You have completely lost control, for it is he who now takes the baton, fucking your throat as if his life depended on it. The flow of the waterfall is peaceful, as are the grunts Alhaitham's chest emits as your saliva bathes his cock and his throat contracts in delicate spasms."Fuck, how good your little mouth is," he gasps, hoarse and husky, the movements of his hand showing his frenzy and his thirst for you, the caresses of your tongue and the way your throat expands to receive him. The revolutions increase, decency is gone and the lack of rhythm means that he is about to cum.

"I'm going to empty my balls into your mouth," he announces, raising his hips to meet your chin, and from the impact a slimy melody is born, an erotic crash and an irregular frisson."Shit, y/n!" his expression is vulgar, the same way his face contorts as his orgasm floods your mouth and a rivulet of milk overflows your corners, your lips turning bright white."How beautiful," he mentions as his fingers lift your chin and caress the contours of your jaw. Your eyes meet his as you swallow his seed, earning a nod of approval from him.Alhaitham is a bit grotesque when it comes to social relations, his lack of tact and almost complete lack of empathy make him a purely rational subject, except when he is with you, when you sit next to him after adjusting his trousers and he gives you a warm smile, or when you rest your head on his shoulder and he lets out a pleasant sigh… and shows his affection towards you, especially when he wipes the remains of his cum from your lips, wanting to restore your respectable facade after the good blow job you gave him…

[10crayon-dust01]

🌀|| FIRST TIME.

TW: Pegging, edging, idfk it’s smut y’all

[It’s your boss’s first time, and he trusts you to lead.]

🌀|| FIRST TIME 

   It had been a long, stressful day for your boss, his day full of tireless folly and pacing back and forth. It was rare that he truly ever relaxed, but tonight, his body lied sprawled out on his bed, his sore eyes staring at your figure above him. 

   The growing desperation intoxicated his expression with every shaky breath, he was nervous, but you could tell he trusted you with this. 

  The cold sensation of your fingers made him gasp as you prepared him for what you’d soon do. Tomura would attempt to relax, you could feel the tension slowly leave his body as he buried his face in his pillow, closing his eyes while he took deep breaths.

   The way he yelped when you inserted the tip of the strap-on showed you that he’d obviously never done this before..at least not with something this big. It brought you guilty pleasure as you watched how careful he was with his fingers, trying not to disintegrate the sheets beneath you both as he gripped them.

   You also found it quite humorous.

   You gripped his cold hips, admiring the way his body would writhe just from your touch alone. You slowly slid in another inch, studying his body language for any signs of pain, he clenched his teeth, letting out a low groan, yet he urged you to push deeper. You began to slowly enter him once more, sinking deep into him and filling him completely. 

  “F-Fuck..”

   He’d swear, his voice barely above a raspy whisper as he endured the painful stretching feeling. 

  Your boss would whine under you, letting out quiet, muffled sobs.. you asked him if he wanted you to stop. He gripped the sheets tighter, insinuating he needed more with another whiny plead. 

   “Just shut up and keep going, you talk too much..”

  He groaned, choking back a moan. He sharply inhaled as you began to slowly pull out about halfway, only to thrust back into him harshly, a sharp cry emitting from the quivering man. 

  You moved one of your hands to the back of his neck, rushing the strap-on inside of him with more force and speed each time. He lifted his face from the pillow, arching his back slightly as he looked back at you. Tears stained his cheeks as his tired eyes soon turned to ones filled with greed. 

   You could tell when he started to get close, but you needed this to last, you needed more from him. After all, he owed you this for all of your hard work today. Before he had the chance to finish, you slammed into him with great vigor. 

  He felt your arm wrap around his waist, gasping as you roughly gripped his phallus and pressed on his aching tip with your thumb, blocking any chance he had to climax and rest.. you gave him a few moments to catch his breath, even though you could tell it pissed him off. 

  “You little shit.”

  He moaned out, still desperately trying to catch his breath. After a minute or so, you started to completely violate his ass, the lube dripping from him as you pounded into his figure, making him cry out your name.

  From there it was a repetition of blocking him from his end goal, making sure he worked for his release. That really was all he wanted, after all. 

  A few moments later, you stopped pumping into him and sharply slammed into him, the sound of your skin colliding into his was almost enough to make him reach his breaking point. 

  But you held your tight grip on his throbbing cock, stroking him as fast as you possibly could, hearing him cry out and beg for you. You were wringing every rare plead out of his mouth, seeing your boss so vulnerable gave you such a power trip. 

  You could feel his arousal drip down your hand as it worked around his dick thoroughly. 

  Soon enough, you finally gave him his well deserved reward, a surge of pleasure and ecstasy flowing through him as he’d shake and cry out under you, his arousal spilling onto the silky sheets.

   You slowly pulled out of him, the toy shining from the aftermath. After taking the toy off, you looked down at your spent boss before asking him a question.

  “Yes..Water sounds nice right now.”

  He responded hazily, his eyes barely open as he lied on the bed almost lifelessly. 

  You grasped the spare blanket on the edge of his bed, gently spreading it over him so he could get comfortable, after all, it was the least you could do after almost destroying him. 

  (HELPP HELPPP MY FIRST POST I’M SCREAMING)