#pure smut lmao

[bethsvrse]

“one time Sirius and James walked in and Remus was too into it to stop so you had to throw a pillow at them so they leave”

Oh, now you have to write it, for the love of god now I’m begging you to write it

original fic - remus lupin nsfw headcannons

PAIRING marauders x fem!reader

WARNINGS basically just filthy smut 😔

Remus was desperate for you. He needed to taste you, to make you his and him yours. As it was nearing the full moon, you understood that he got a lot more… sexual during that time.

The two of you have skipped class, currently in Remus’ dorm, making out on his bed, your shirt unbuttoned and his shirt off. He started to kiss down your body, his hand pulling your underwear down you leg. When he reached i between your legs, his tongue barely grazed your clit, your fingers flew to his hair tangling themselves in it. 

Remus wasn't sure what was sweeter, your taste or the sounds falling from your lips. He knew what it took to push you over that edge and enjoyed feeling your body shake. He continued to lap at your clit until you pushed his head away, gasping. He leaned back from you, slipping a finger into you to replace his tongue. You clenched hard around his fingers, cursing lightly when he added a second and curled them up to hit that spot inside of you that he knew would have you seeing stars.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, the sound of his name being moaned from you was everything. He could feel when you were close right, right as you were reaching the climax suddenly the door was slammed open. “Hey Remus, why weren’t you in class-“ Sirius started to say but stopped when he saw the view in front of him.

Remus’ face in between your thighs with his fingers in deep. “Oh my god.” James muttered, also being hypnotised by the scene in front of him.

When you heard voices, you glanced towards the door and your eyes widened. You tried to pull Remus away from you but the boy only attached his lips to your clit once again causing you to moan out loud.

Sirius and James stood frozen, their hearts pounding as they beheld the sight before them. For Sirius, he has been crushing on you since third year; for James, it had started in fourth. When Remus revealed he was dating you, jealousy was the only was to explain their emotions.

In this moment, they longed to be in Remus' shoes, but you throwing a pillow at them had snapped them back to reality. Hastily, they retreated from the room, the door slamming behind them.

A/N idk if it’s just me, but I feel like the teacher from 10 things I hate about you when writing smut 💀💀

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[evemeows]

kinktober day one - degradation w/ logan howlett

cw: explicit smut MDNI, gn!afab!reader, pet names(darling, sweetheart) turned to name calling(slut, whore), breath play, rough sex, implied size difference, no aftercare, squirting (sorry i had to), dacryphilia, creampie, smidgen of a breeding kink

wc: 538

notes: ik degradation means a lot of different things to different people, but this is what i interpret it as bc i'd for real cry if my man said this to me in bed (but horny yk)

"Come on now, sweetheart, just take it all. For once in your life actually finish the job f'me, yeah?" You whined into the mattress, fingers tangling and twisting the sheets between them as you struggled to hold yourself up, past orgasms weighing your body and mind down.

"Don't-" You hiccuped and attempted again, "Don' say that, Lo..."

"Aw, was that too mean for your sensitive feelings, darlin'?" The press of his chest to your back had you collapsing off your elbows and into the bed entirely. You tried to nod but the hand that wasn't feeding his cock into you spread across the back of your head, forcing it into the pillow further, damn near restricing your breathing.

"Fuck, you can't even do this one thing for me, can you." The statement had you whining, squiriming and reaching backwards for Logan, crying out when he tugged his arm out of your grip. "Nuh-uh sweetheart. Can barely take my cock all the way after I've used this cunt all night and you want to cuddle? Is that it? Can't even do the one thing you were made for, slut?"

The now vicious pace he set had you trembling, Logan's harsh grip on your head and hip leaving a throbbing feeling behind. The slick little sounds of your cunt taking him in deeper than ever almost covered his now barely there grunts.

As that edge rose up again, you tried to warn him, muffled cries into the pillow, tears soaking your face before he rutted into harsh enough you felt him in your throat.

Without warning you gushed around him, sobbing. You continued to cum around him as Logan gritted his teeth at the feeling of you soaking him, yourself and the bed.

"See? You could take it, knew you could, sweetheart," he lets up on your head, only to grip your hair and tilt it back, a debauched look on your face as your thighs continued twitching at his pace.

With a final growl Logan dropped his entire weight on you, pressing you down and burying himself deep. You bawled as he came inside you, heating you up from the inside out.

"There we go, that's it, my pretty little slut," he murmured in your ear as Logan sluggishly pumped his cum deeper into your cunt. This time when you reach back for him, he rests his palm in yours and grips your hand tight.

He presses kisses down your spine before pulling out, kneeling astride your thighs. He clicks his tongue at the mixture of your fluids and his leaking down your cunt and dripping onto the bed. Logan reaches between your legs and pushes his cum back into your cunt, grinning at how you twitch in the soiled sheets.

"C'mon slut, keep that all in ya just like I taught you to. If you don't, you know I have to keep pumping you full." Your cunt fluttered again, gaping at his touch and the ghostly feeling of where his cock had been.

"Please- Lo- no more," You finally turned your head to gasp out for breaths. You opened your mouth again and shrieked when his open palm strikes your clit.

"Good whores always beg for more, remember?"

[thyandrawrites]

I was too ace to catch this the first time, but now that I'm on a rewatch, I am starting to understand why all the li lun / zhou yichen shippers have been raving on about the sexual tension between those two 😂 when they fight in ep 23 it's all physical and dirty, and it's got none of the grace and the swish and daintyness of typical xianxia fights. After the sword breaks, there's not even magic anymore. They're all up in each other space with fists and punches and bites. God, I don't think I've ever seen a fight in this genre where someone bites someone else and breaks skin. And it's ZYC of all people who does it, breaking character for a moment, fighting dirty, dishonorably, because this is personal. LL is targeting the child. The little brother figure whose only real mistake was having to grow up too fast in a world that is unfair and cruel, particularly so to kind people. And ZYC is furious about it. Furious that Li Lun can look at BJ and only see the perfect container for his demonic powers, and not a boy who is scared, a boy who keeps braving the dark despite his fear. And so gone is Yichen's restraint, his dignity, alongside the sword. There's no more time to play fair. Li Lun went too far.

And then there's Li Lun's side. It's not enough to incapacitate Yichen, or to metaphorically castrate him via the breaking of his sword. No. It wouldn't be enough to simply kill him, either. ZYC needs to see the real face of the man choking him. He needs to know it's even more personal for him. This is the human who had the audacity to point his sword at a great demon and promise to take his life. The life that should've been Li Lun's to reclaim take. ZYC dared put himself between an older blood feud, and yet still managed to gain ZYZ's loyalty despite it all. Like, damn. Put your whole fist inside an open wound, will you, Yichen?

So it's only around ZYC that LL loses all his composure, too. It's almost compulsive, his fixation on ZYC's throat, the way he always lunges for it, even when they eventually join sides and he gifts him his demonic powers. You went too far first, he says back with the sheer physicality of getting all up in Yichen's face to tighten his hands or his arms around his neck, when just moments before he had been strangling others with vines instead. When he always uses vines to strangle literally everyone else. But not this guy. LL needs to feel his pulse die out, and with it that cursed Bingyi bloodline that stole his man and his will to live, that promised to stop the most powerful demon from what LL believes to be the final purifying act, the ridding of all human lies and deceit, and with it the grief LL feels, too.

And I'm sitting here like. Oh. Oh. I get it now. It's not just the metaphorical sex they just had on screen for 10 minutes here (😂). it's also about the way both characters are shaped into who they are now by their grief, by their losses, that makes them cling until they're raw and bleeding all over the last things they hold dear. That... I kinda dig, ngl

[ohbo-ohno]

merry christmas @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's the ghoap x reader purge au! (a week and a half after you posted about it... im so sorry)

5.7k, mind the tags <3

cw: ROUGH NONCONSENUAL SEX in all caps, pwp, under-prepared/painful anal sex, some pretty intense fear stuff, people covered in blood and referenced violence (it's a purge au lol)

Your hands tremble where they’re tucked close to your chest, blood sticky and thick between each finger. You feel coated in it, like someone has taken a brush and gone over every inch of your skin, painted you in red.

It’s in your mouth. You can feel the warmth of it on your tongue, the taste of iron sickening. You tell yourself that maybe you bit your tongue, that it’s not really your ex Phil’s blood coating your teeth.

Your thin pajamas are hardly any protection against the chill of the night air, less so with how soaked they are. The stench of piss is heavy in the air, a mixture of yours and his, but you don’t have time to go back inside and change.

You’re running on pure instinct, an animal urge deep in your mind insisting you run. You’d always thought you’d have more of a flight instinct than fight. Despite how you feel now, how your legs itch to carry you as far away as possible, the cooling corpse left behind tells you the truth. 

You stumble into the wall, a wave of nausea knocking you off balance. There’s a trail of red left behind as you use one hand to balance yourself, the other held protectively over your heart. 

Your security system - cheap, but usually enough to let you sleep through the Purge - is completely destroyed. There’s no chance of it protecting you, and the bust in windows will let anyone on the streets see your vulnerability. You’ll never feel safe there, and you can’t shake the need to run.

There’s no chance of any of your neighbors helping you. There’s some neighborly camaraderie between your floor-mates, but that all disappears on Purge night. It’s every man for himself, every year, without fail. You know that. You even think the same as them, pretend no one else exists when that siren goes off every year. 

But now, shaking and terrified, you wish you could knock on a door and see it open. Hear the security system disengage and see a familiar face, beg for help and thank them on your knees.

It’s a nice fantasy. Reality is less kind, seeing you shake with a dawning chill as you manage to shoulder open the door to the stairwell, cringing when it slams behind you.

The cold cement is rough on your feet, and a distant part of yourself worries about slipping - your feet are slick with blood, and you can hear yourself leaving a trail of footsteps. You don’t try to slow down, holding tight to the metal railing and shuffling down the stairs.

You’re halfway down the first of four flights when the door on the next floor opens, a large figure stepping into the stairwell. Your stumble to a stop before you even register that you’re not alone anymore, and you’re backpedaling before you even fully realize.

He’s big, his face covered in a red skull mask. From your vantage point you can see his hair is shaved into a mohawk, and he’s shirtless with only a pair of gray sweatpants on.

He’s drenched in blood. Even more than you, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. If you’re painted in blood, someone took a bucket and dumped it on this man. You can hardly see any unmarked skin, and you wonder for a split-second if the skull was once white.

There’s an audible grin in his voice when he calls up to you. “Look’it you, bonnie thing. You tryin’ to run?” He steps to the side, leaving a wide open space for you to pass him to the next staircase. You’re frozen where you’re leant against the railing, hardly able to breathe. “C’mon, give it a shot.” 

You listen, scrabbling further back and all but throwing yourself up the stairs on all fours. You’re only the need to get away, an innate fear that tells you to get as far from the blood-soaked man as quickly as possible. You swear you hear him laugh as you launch yourself up the next flight, panting already.

There’s no safety found in going up though, as hardly two flights later you’re tugged to a stop by your instincts alone.

Standing above you, hardly six feet away and blocking the door he must’ve just come from, is another giant. This one fully clothed and with a white skull mask, somehow bigger and more intimidating than the man you can hear coming up the stairs behind you. You can’t see even an inch of skin, black gloves on his hands and mean black combat boots reaching nearly his knees.

There’s a moment, before the chase ends, where you contemplate jumping over the railing. There’s no going up, there’s no going back, and you can’t even begin to imagine what these two men want with you. The only thing that keeps you from throwing yourself over is the fear that you wouldn’t die on impact, that you’d be left injured and even more vulnerable to these men.

You’re not sure you could’ve tried that plan had you even wanted to, because the moment it forms fully in your mind a pair of thick arms wraps around you, and a heavy weight forces you to the ground.

You cry out at the sudden shove, palms scraped raw against the cement. The man behind you covers your body completely - his knees bracket yours, his hands rest on either side of your head, and there’s no part of the back of you that isn’t cloaked in him.

He doesn’t say anything as he ruts against you, the blood from his chest soaking through your tank top and making you cringe further away. You can’t stop the quiet stream of whimpers as you try to shrink into the stairs, try to get away from the beast behind you. He doesn’t care, only drops more of his weight onto you and pantomines fucking you.

You can feel the outline of his cock through his pants, as thin as the clothes both of you are wearing are. If you weren’t wearing your shorts, if he tugged the waistband of his pants down, he’d be inside of you.

The thought makes you tear up, makes you want to slam your head back and try to knee him in the balls, makes you want to fight.

But all your fight is gone. It died with Phil and your security system, and you’re left only with a weight in your bones that makes you wish you could sink through the floor. 

The hard plastic of the skull mask presses to the sensitive skin of your cheek, biting into the fat there. You can see the gleam of bright blue eyes in the sockets, the creases at the edges that tell you he’s smiling.

“You gonna fuck her here for the first time?” The white skull asks, voice deep enough that you hardly register the words. Your eyes are jerked to his form and it makes you shiver to see him sitting on the top of the staircase you’re pinned to, legs spread wide as he stares down at you with a cigarette between lips exposed by the tilted mask. You feel like a sacrifice, thrown to the stairs of a temple for a god.

“Can I?” The man over your shoulder pants, accent roughened from his own movements. You can’t tell if the wetness between your thighs is piss, blood, or an even worse option. You bite your tongue to hold back a whine, wince at the burst of iron in your mouth.

The man above you tilts his head, smoking blown into the air. “You fuck her here, you won’t get to go again on the roof. Don’t need you gettin’ spoiled.”

Your nails dig into the concrete, folding beneath the pressure as you shake beneath the red skulled man. He whines over you, like a petulant kid being told no for the first time, but goes still against you. That alone has you blinking open damp eyelashes, watching him from the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, I’ll wait,” he pants, chin resting on your soldier. “Give ye some time to get ready, huh lass? It’ll be easier for ye then. Just think about what we’ll do to ye, how good it’ll feel to get properly fucked, yeah?”

You sob when he grinds one final time against you, your hips pushed into the harsh edge of the stairs. 

He’s dragging you up after that, hardly letting either of you stand fully before shoving you up the stairs. You can’t catch your balance and let out a small cry as you fall back to your knees, mouth twisting in pain at the unforgiving surface against your naked knees.

You flinch when a gloved hand grasps your chin, tugging up until you’re forced to look towards the white skull above you.

You’ve landed between his feet, a boot on either side of your body, and if you’d moved forward even another half foot, you’d have face planted into his lap. 

Your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re making eye contact with him. The dark brown of his pupils blends almost seamlessly with what must be black paint smeared around his eye sockets, and the only reason you even realize you’re locked in a staring contest is the way the light reflects off the whites of his eyes.

You don’t have time to try and move away from him on your own (or, more accurately, to throw yourself backwards and pray you didn’t break something falling down the stairs) before a pair of bare hands are shoving you up from beneath the armpits, making you almost squeal as you jerk in the direction you’re forced.

“Up, c’mon,” red skull grunts, hands flitting from one part of your exposed skin to the next as he herds you upstairs. “Need to get inside ye, kitty, fuckin’ walk.”

You sob as you stumble up the stairs, the top of your foot scraping painfully against the concrete. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see White stand to follow you two, but you’re nearly sent sprawling again when Red only shoves you all the more harshly.

“Pl-please,” you manage to gasp, shoulder roughly bouncing off the wall. A glance up tells you you’re two full flights away from the rooftop. “Please, I don’t know what you want, b-but…” You can hardly talk around the sobs floating in your throat, choking you. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Red groans as he tugs you nearly off balance, the sound echoing off the walls and full of what you can only describe as hunger.

“Fuck, haven’t even gotten ye naked yet ‘n yer already beggin. Knew ye’d be perfect for us.”

You can hardly see through the tears in your eyes, the rest of the trip up to the roof all gray with streaks of red and black. You can’t focus enough to try and get away again, can’t get enough of your panic under control to fucking think.

The red skull catches you when you almost go careening over the rails, one broad hand catching you by the chest and gripping.

He groans, you flinch. “Fuck, cannae wait to get my mouth on these.” He pinches with his whole hand, your breast going sharp with pain on every fingertip. You whine, flinching further against his chest and trying to shrink away.

“Keep movin’, Soap.”

“Aye,” Red - Soap - pants, and you can practically hear the saliva gathered in his mouth when he swallows. “C’mon, kitty, only a little further.”

The blood on your hands has dried by the time White is shouldering open the door to the roof, your hands itching and the red flaking away every time your fingers twitch. The night air is a cold shock, just jarring enough to tug some reason back into your brain.

Soap doesn’t stop his herding until you’re far enough from the door for his partner to block it with an old metal chair, the back tucked under the door handle. You tuck your hands beneath your arms, shoulders curled in in an attempt to preserve warmth.

You wouldn’t have expected the night to be so cold. Half of the street is burning - flames painting the sky, giving you the exact opposite impression of the biting chill you feel. There are dozens of people in the streets, carrying guns and axes and chainsaws and all sorts of other weapons you can’t see. You feel bile rise in your throat when you realize the dark pools reflecting flames in the street are blood, not water.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Soap grumbles, and you don’t have any time to think before his mouth is pressed forcefully against yours, tongue shoving at your lips.

Your eyes are wide open, unlike his, and you make a shocked sound high in your throat at the sight of his maskless face. You can’t really see what he looks like with the way he’s pressed against you, but it’s a shock nonetheless.

You keep your lips pressed tightly together, no matter how much his tongue prods and tries to force its way into your mouth. You feel more than hear him laugh against you after a few long seconds, and one of his massive paws comes up to cradle your jaw pointer finger against your temple and thumb under your chin.

He stops trying to force himself between your lips after almost a minute, instead shifting to just… licking your lips. His tongue paints wide across your mouth, soaking you in his saliva. He’s almost scarily determined in the way he accosts you, his grip tight on your face as his other hand shifts to bruise your hip, covering what feels like the entire bottom-half of your face in his spit. You can’t help but grimace, trying to pull away from him, but he’s pressed too close.

“Can’t fuckin’ wait to be in ye,” he pants, breath warm and wet against your cheeks. “I know yer gonna squeeze me just right, bonnie, can tell already.”

“Please,” you say, voice weak. “Please, don’t, I don’t want you to-”

His groan is guttural. “Ye wanna know a secret, bonnie?” His voice is quiet between the two of you, bright blue eyes boring deep into yours when he pulls back. To your endless frustration, he’s handsome.

He leans close, whispering so low that you almost have to strain to hear hum. “That’s what makes you fun. Wouldnae be draggin’ you up here if ye wanted it, could get you any other night of the year for that. But it’s Purge night, lass… so you go ahead and fight as much as ye want, yeah? Just makes it more fun for me.”

You can’t help but sob at that, fat tears streaming down your face as he maneuvers you. You feel disconnected from your body as he forces you down to the ground, your soft belly left exposed when he pushes up your tank-top to cup one of your breasts, a whimper crawling out of your throat at the way the gravel presses into you.

You feel his breathing grow heavier as his hands move down to your shorts, shoving them off your hips and leaving them loose around your calves, completely disregarding your pitiful attempts at crawling away.

“Poor thing, been stuck in these the whole time? They fuckin’ reek, bonnie, no offense. That his piss or yours?”

You shake your head against the ground, face twisted up in acute humiliation. For some stupid reason you don’t want to even begin exploring, you find it necessary to whisper, “H-his.”

Soap hums, and you curse yourself inwardly when the humiliation is slightly alleviated.

“Get ‘em off her,” the white mask says, and you can’t help but jump at the sound of his voice. He’s sat on a large box only a few feet away, leaning back and relaxing, looking for all the world like he’s settled in for his favorite show. “Don’t want anythin’ of his touching her now.”

The sound Soap makes at that is animalistic, a snarl coming from deep in his chest that makes you flinch as he all but tears the shorts from your body. You wince at the wet splat of them landing several feet away.

You force your forehead into the gravel when your knees are forced wide, a rough hand and another pair of knees spreading you.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” you can’t help but beg, voice trembling. “Please- god, please don’t-”

“Fuck,” he moans over your shoulder. “Yeah, keep goin’, lass.”

You sob at the feeling of warm skin against your bared behind, his thick length slotting itself smoothly between the slightly spread lips of your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut and it takes all your willpower not to keep begging.

He slides himself back and forth against you for a few long breaths, using online the slight slickness from a mixture of piss and blood to get some friction. But to your immense horror, it only takes a few moments for the sensual movement against your clit to have your body preparing itself.

The slight wetness at your hole might be a betrayal, but it’s not nearly enough to ease the way when he pushes inside of you with no warning.

You nearly scream, a high sound of pure panic and pain when it feels like you’re being split in two. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear someone laugh. Right above you, Soap groans.

He’s buried himself to the hilt inside you before the pain has had any time at all to fade, and he’s fucking into you hardly a second after that.

Every thrust forces a grunt from your throat, the entire weight of him slammed into your back each time his balls smack against your clit. Your face is twisted up in a grimace, your whole body racked with pain that your assaulter couldn’t care less about.

“Fuck, kitty. Yer squeezin’ me so good, such a good girl, shit-! Knew you’d be ti-tight as a vice, fuck, but didn’t know you’d be squeezin’ me so tight I can hardly move.”

Your whine is plaintive, his moan is filled with pleasure.

“Yer gettin’ so wet for me, bonnie. Ye like this, huh? Bet you like it just as much as I do, gettin’ thrown around and takin’ advantage of. That it, kitty? Ye like being forced?”

You sob and shake your head against the ground, crying all the more when sharp pebbles dig into your cheeks.

“Naw, I think ye do. Why else’d you be- fuck, squeezin’ me like that?” 

“Cause- because-” you try, but you can’t get the breath in to get more than a single word out.

“Huh? Cause- cause-?” Soap mocks, his voice pitching up to mimic you as he plants himself deep inside you, grinding his hips against the meat of your ass. “C’mon, kitty, tell me why. Go on.”

“Cause I want you to stop!” You cry, balled up fist slamming into the gravel. You can’t help but whine ow when the sharp rocks poke into your skin, and Soap’s laugh shakes your entire body.

“Good,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Squirm all ye want, lass. I love it when you fight.”

You can do nothing but go limp beneath him as he begins fucking you again, his pace somehow faster and even more relentless. It’s a small mercy that there’s no fight left in you, that you can’t give him any more pleasure. 

It certainly doesn’t stop him, though. Despite the fact that you’re doing your best impression of a dead fish, Soap pants and moans against your shoulder like you’re the single best thing he’s ever slept with. His cock is painfully hard inside of you, and his pace never once slows.

He’s loud when he finally comes, the sound of his orgasm clear enough that you know he’s thrown his head back to the sky. You can only whimper as he rolls his hips against you, working the last spurts of cum out of his cock and into your unwilling body. 

“Fuck,” he sighs in your ear, sounding far more satisfied than he has any right to. “Good girl, kitty. You were perfect.”

You sniffle beneath him when he slowly pulls out, both of you groaning at the sensation. He gives you an almost perfunctory pat on the ass, and stands to walk away. You manage to open your eyes and focus just in time to see him slide to the ground in front of his partner, leaning against the wall.

“Yer turn,” he sighs. “Warmed her up good for you, Lt.”

Despite the hatred boiling in your gut, you can do nothing but lay limp on the ground and watch as his partner stands, cracking his neck and moving towards your prone form. 

You want to run, you want to fight, but you can only watch the executioner come closer and wait for the metaphorical axe to fall.

He crouches by your head first, grasping your chin and pulling up until your torso tries to follow to alleviate the tension. He stares deep into your eyes for a long moment, and you find that it’s impossible to even tell where his pupils are with no real lighting. You feel like you’re truly looking into the empty eye sockets of a skull, no man and no mercy to be found.

“You’ll call me Ghost when I fuck you,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over the scrapes on your cheek. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply hauls you up by the shoulder and turns you onto your back. 

He’s rough with your limbs as he shoves your legs together and up, his forearm banding across the backs of both of your knees and holding them to your chest. You whimper and wiggles as best you can, but the bruising blow against your thigh is enough to have you gasping and stilling.

“Don’t fight,” he warns, and you feel his gloved fingers running up the crack of you. “You’re hurtin’ enough as it is, and I’m not gonna help. You wanna make it worse too?”

You shake your head, unsure if he can even see you through your legs. He doesn’t respond, and hums when he swipes two fingers through the liquid gathered between your lips.

You whine when those fingers move further down, a fresh panic creeping in when he presses around your back hole.

“You should be glad Soap fucked you so good,” Ghost drawls. “He gave you all the lube you’re gonna get.”

You feel like an animal when you whine again, unsure of how to even begin trying to speak. You yelp when a thick finger slides into your hole, completely disregarding any resistance and forcing its way in until it’s buried to the knuckle. Your cries go ignored.

“Quit squirmin’,” Ghost scolds, pulling his finger out to smack your ass before shoving two back in. “You’re fine.”

You’re not, you’re terrified and hurting and upset, but none of those things matter when Ghost only coaxes more of your slick and Soap’s spend to your unused whole so there’s less resistance. 

The only blessing you have is the fact that you can’t see more than the outline of Ghost’s figure with the way he’s got you positioned. You try your best to close your eyes and float into disassociation, and while you can’t fully manage it, the fact that you can’t see his face - his mask - helps you distance yourself from what’s happening.

The moment you realize this is of course the moment it stops being true. 

He seems to decide you’re ready after scissoring three fingers inside of you, hefting himself up so that he looms more fully over you. You can only whine as you feel the movements of him unbuckling his belt, feel the weight of him slap against your slightly spread cheeks.

Fresh tears fall past your lashes as you stare up into the fathomless darkness that are Ghost’s eyes. There’s nothing there, just a cold empty skull prepared to ruin you.

You don’t even have the energy to beg.

The stretch of him inside your ass is five times worse than Soap was. There’s no natural lubrication, and nowhere near enough synthetic lube either. Your hole feels like it’s on fire, the stretch white hot as he gives you no mercy.

You’re not even fully sure what you’re babbling as he slowly sinks to the root, only aware of the pain and fear and panic sitting heavy in your heart. You fear you’ll choke on your tears, head jerking back and forth.

He sighs when he bottoms out, heavy barrel chest forcing your knees past your shoulders. Your hips strain, just another pain from the endless abuse.

“There,” he grunts, patting your thigh when you go limp from it all. “Stay nice and still now, just need a place to dump my cum.”

Upsettingly enough, that hurts. The idea that you could mean nothing to this man is somehow worse than the thought of him having some other twisted feelings for you, your hormone-addled mind deeply insulted. 

His thrusts are long and slow, each one pulling nearly completely out before slamming back in. The sound of your skin slapping together is embarrassingly sexual, and a distant part of you is aware enough to pray that no one nearby had heard your screams and cries.

Ghost is near silent as he fucks you, the opposite of Soap. You can only hear the occasional grunt when you squeeze him because he’s inches away from your face - you can even feel the occasional gusts of breath when his hips start working a little faster. 

There’s nothing you can do but lay limply beneath him and take it, just a vehicle for his pleasure. You almost manage to float away, to pretend none of this is happening or has ever happened, when his free hand moves from your thigh to the top of your cunt.

You nearly squeal when he rubs your clit, the smooth leath gliding over your slick bud. Your eyes fly wide open, back arching as much as you can with three hundred pounds of man holding you down. The loud laugh from several feet away only makes you writhe more.

“Make her squirt, Lt!” Soap shouts, his voice carefree.

“Shut it, Johnny,” Ghost grunts, voice roughened with pleasure. You don’t even have time to focus on the fact that he’s just told you Johnny’s name, far too preoccupied with the tidal wave of pleasure rushing towards you.

You have no idea why it happens. You’re never quick to come - almost every single partner of yours has complained about you taking so long to get off, it’s been an Issue in several relationships. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that after hardly a minute of rough circles against your clit, you’re clenching down on the cock in your ass and moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you.

The natural clench of your body only makes the pain worse, a sharp spike of it running up your cunt and making your moan shift into more pained sounds. Ghost only moans in tandem above you, his thrusts becoming slightly less even as he lets your orgasm coax out his own.

You sob when you feel his cum paint your insides.

Unlike Johnny, Ghost doesn’t pull out after he comes. He lets your legs fall limp on either side of him, just barely managing to catch them for you before you slam your ankles to the ground. He leans his torso over yours, elbows resting on either side of your shoulders while you do nothing but wait beneath him.

He’s sweat off some of the makeup. This close, you can see hints of pale skin in the sockets of the mask. There’s nothing to read in his eyes, but that flash of skin tells you he’s still a man.

You swallow, trying to work moisture back into your dry mouth, and whisper, “Will… will you let me go now?”

You know it’s more likely he’ll kill you. It’s what you can only imagine happened to all those bodies in the streets, what you know happens to tens of thousands of women every year. 

So it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t answer you verbally, instead covering your mouth with his palm and pinching your nose shut with his fingers. 

Your eyes flutter shut after a moment, lungs tightening already, and all you can hope is that suffocation is a quick death.

———————————————————————

You wake, gasping, in a dark room. 

You’re lurching forward before you’re even fully aware that you’re awake, coughing loudly and gasping when it feels like your throat is bleeding.

“Oh, poor thing,” you hear a familiar accented voice coo, and a moment later there’s a warm hand patting your back. “Yer alright, deep breaths.”

You jerk back from Soap - Johnny - as soon as your coughing is under control, scrambling back on your palms and staring at him with wide eyes. He only grins at you, looking for all the world like any other normal man in his sweater and sweatpants.

He got changed at some point - these pants are clean. He’s not wearing his mask either, and you’re struck dumb by how non threatening he manages to look.

He also changed your clothes - or Ghost did, maybe. You try to cover your chest with one hand, but there’s no hiding the fact that you’re completely naked. 

Johnny only laughs at your attempted modesty. “Been starin’ at them for hours, lass. Ye’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

That’s… horrifying, and does absolutely nothing to calm you down.

It’s then that Ghost rises from a chair, stepping forward and making you aware of his presence. “Calm down, Johnny. We don’t want her panickin’ this early.”

Soap fully pouts, tilting his head at you before glancing up at his partner. “I haven’t even done anythin’, Ghost. Was just sayin’ hi, tha’s all.”

Ghost snorts, gripping Johnny’s mohawk and tugging back until the other man sprawls back on his ass. “You know how you are, pup. Give your kitty some space.”

Johnny listens, crossing one leg beneath him and bending the other close to his chest, looking casual as can be. Meanwhile your heartbeat only gets faster, and you wince when you happen to lean too far one direction and feel a throbbing reminder of what these men did to you.

Ghost steps forward again, crouching just out of arm's reach. You realize he’s not wearing the same skull mask as before, but a balaclava with a printed skull pattern instead. His eye sockets are unpainted, and you’re shocked by how such little things make him look so much more human. 

“You can calm down. Long as you behave, nothin’ much worse’ll happen to you.”

You find yourself almost comically not-comforted by that, and can do nothing more than stare at him with wide eyes. 

“Where…” Your voice cracks, so you swallow and start again. “Where am I?”

It’s Johnny who speaks up. “Our place. We finally brought ye home with us, kitty.”

The world feels like it’s slowed around you, and your eyes drag from one kidnapper to the other. You have to swallow again to work any moisture into your bone-dry mouth.

“Is the Purge over?”

The creases at the corner of Ghost’s eyes are painfully obvious with how pale his skin is, and you shudder at the thought of him smiling.

“Been over for… what, five hours now? Somethin’ like that.”

You can’t fight the tremble in your voice now. “Then… then you have to let me go.”

Ghost’s head tilts, the creases get deeper. “Do I?”

You nod with as much conviction as you can - which is almost none. “You can’t keep me here. You’re breaking the law.”

Ghost leans closer on the balls of feet and you lean further back, your spine pressing into the wall behind you. “Are we now? And who do you think will stop us, pet?”

“The- the police. Someone will report me missing, they’ll come looking.”

“Oh? And you think they’ll come here?”

You nod as best you can, and jump when Ghost laughs. It’s low and quiet, only a few beats, but it’s like gasoline thrown on the small fire of panic in your mind.

“You have no idea where you even are, and you think they’ll find you? I hate to break it to you doll, but you’ll be lucky if they look for you for a week. You have any idea how many people go missin’ after the Purge?”

Your breath is quickening. “So that’s it? You’re just going to… going to keep me here, forever? What are you even going to do?”

His laugh is sharper, meaner this time. “We’re gonna do a whole lot more of what we did last night, pet. Keep you as a little cocksleeve, a pretty thing tucked in the basement just for our entertainment. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

You manage to tear your eyes away to look at Soap and see that he’s nearly salivating, having inched closer and closer and shifted so he’s knelt behind Ghost. There’s a feral spark in his eyes that has every hair on your body standing straight up.

“Yeah, tha’s right. Don’t worry, lass, we’ll make sure yer never lonely. Might even stay the night with you, cuddle up in the winter. Bet ye could keep our cocks nice and toasty in the cold, huh? Gonna let us use ye as a little heater?”

“A heater, a mattress, a fleshlight… your future’s lookin’ bright, sweetheart,” Ghost drawls, mockery dripping heavily from the cruel words.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the two men and their predatory stares, your heart racing against your ribcage.

It’s not a conscious choice for you to launch yourself towards them, reaching out and clawing your sharp nails down Soap’s face with a feral scream that tears your throat to shreds. 

Even as Ghost throws you off and forces you to the ground, you vow to fight these men to the end. You’ll kill them both if you have to, leave them dead and wander however many miles it is back to your apartment.

Ghost only laughs when you shout this in his face, and you scream as you lunge forward, just managing to catch his masked chin between your teeth and bite.

With your fight instinct back in full force, you’re ready to make their lives hell.

[justarandombrit]

I'd just like all the Jet Lag: The Game fans to know that me and my parents have taken to calling Adam "The Most Stressed Man Alive" like it's his official title.

[evansbuck-ley]

I will shut up eventually but I was finishing my fake dating au today and I just really love it so here’s a snippet of the second half

They both laugh as Tommy walks over to the bed, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt as he did. Sighing softly, he stopped at the foot of the bed and looked down at Buck who was laid resting on his elbows and eyes glued onto him. Particularly the spot of flesh peaking through the gap of his shirt.

The air suddenly became thick and charged, neither of them knew what each other was feeling but both knew they were feeling something. Tommy stood tall over Buck, his eyes travelling over his body until their eyes locked. The pupils in his eyes were so blown there wasn’t any blue left, holy shit.

Now Buck has been very good at acting like his boyfriend, the casually touches, holding hands and even a kiss that tasted of tequila, acting as a chaser for the shot. Right now though, there was no faking that. Tommy feels crazy for thinking it, because as far as he was aware, Buck was straight.

[more-mara]

Remember that Oscar/Charles/Carlos one shot I was talking about? It’ll be here soon 🥵

[sunsetzer]

Edgar has two hands, one for Locke and one for Setzer. "What about Celes though?" I hear you ask. Well, you see, she's busy holding hands with Terra.

[ilium-ilia]

hiyaaa it’s alright if you don’t wanna answer (obviously, this is your blog) but what attracts you to dddne content? like, what makes you write and interact with it?

[iwasntstable]

+[MSG : snowed in. can't go to work. finally got inspiration to write a little thing about Noah coming over during a snowstorm.]

[joyglass]

started rereading aftg recently, first time in years, to go into tsc remembering everything fresh. And i am eating DRYWALL over here PLEASE tell me you have some fanfic reccomendations. I tried digging through ur blog so apologies if you already talked about some but i couldnt find any!! The fanart reblogs were real good though yessirr yessir. But you have good taste in writing good taste in ships i am at your mercy and thank you for your service general.

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS!

a not at all comprehensive list of my favorites in no particular order:

Pinky Promises; or, MOM, Holy FUCK by youreyestheyglow

if you were church by treshpresh

i'd promise you anything for another shot at life by orionauriga

mouth like a bruise by wyverning

but you can make me a drink by daisyjohnsons

Night Practice by mostly_maudlin

the benefits of a broken air conditioning unit and other summer lessons by decaflondonfog

if you really love nothing by seasy33

Fear No Fall (series) by vicariously kingly (pelted) (quite possibly one of the best fanfics i've ever read in my LIFE)

First Game Jitters by NikNak22

Don't Let Me Go by Fortheloveofexy

crash positions by likearecord

Baltimore Blues by SpangleBangle

Reputation by lemonicee

Tooth and Nail by AlrightDarlin (WhoopsOK)

genus (series) by badacts (THEEE HDM AU FIC OF ALL TIME TO ME)

On The Edge Of A Night (series) by sambutwithbooks

Deja Vu (series) by elesary

Not Nothing by TheRainbowElectric

I Will Always Choose You by NikNak22

You Might Get It by likearecord

[random-knowone]

working on the gpi fic and ough...... the angst....

[skibasyndrome]

the joy of finally finishing a chapter I've been on and off working on since NOVEMBER!!!!!

but also

rip. why must I continuously develop to write more and more in one fic....

[mythicalthing]

i read smut analytically

[lady-protector]

8. attrition (extra credit, explicit)

“I do not doubt your willpower, my lady,” Aymeric said with a grin, placing his glass of brandy back on the table, “merely your patience. You are accustomed to felling gods, ending wars, changing the fate of nations in an instant. Playing the long game, winning wars of attrition, delaying gratification – such are my strengths, not yours.“

They were comfortably ensconced on Aymeric's sofa after dinner, Kaede reclining against the arm with her legs thrown across his lap and glass of red wine close at hand, but at his words she sat up and leaned forward, scowling. The notion that she, of all people, lacked for self-control was patently ridiculous. She did not even remember how they had even gotten on the topic – doubtless some idle remark made in jest – but his comment had stung her pride, and she would not let it stand.

“I have plenty of patience, thank you,” she shot back, voice tart. “And while I admit your powers of self-denial outstrip my own, what you would be setting against my will is not your ability to deny yourself, but to deny me.���

Aymeric's expression turned from amused to considering as he mulled over her point, but he did not concede. “I suppose the only thing for it is to put it to the test, then.” Long, calloused fingers traced patterns on the inside of her thigh as he spoke, and Kaede was finding it increasingly difficult to retain her righteous indignation.

Stretching and resettling against the arm of the sofa, Kaede regarded him with a look she hoped radiated more suspicion and offended dignity than arousal. “And how, good ser, do you propose we do that?”

“Simple. You permit me to do as I please, unhindered, and we see which happens first – my patience being exhausted, and bringing one or the other of us to release… or you begging me to do so.” As he spoke, his fingers drifted higher, ghosting over her smallclothes in a way that had her biting back a moan. His face said clearly that he had noticed how close he had come already to provoking a reaction, and Kaede could think of several delightful ways to wipe the smug look off his face, but none would be so enjoyable as rising to his challenge and overcoming it.

“And what, precisely, constitutes begging?” These kinds of games always came with rules, and she excelled in bending them just to the point of breaking, but no further. Usually, anyway.

Anticipation coiled in her stomach at the look he gave her as he rose and then leaned over, one hand braced against the top of the sofa as his other cradled her cheek. She could have pulled him down into a kiss, but to do so now, after he had questioned her patience, would be tantamount to admitting defeat already. Seemingly satisfied by her affected stoicism, he dragged the pad of his thumb slowly over her bottom lip as he spoke. “The word please. All other requests and demands I shall ignore, save those that contain that word.”

Kaede’s breath caught in her throat, and she raised her chin to stare him down, as if he weren’t effectively pinning her to the sofa. “Do your worst, then.”

A large hand abruptly sank into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her up, roughly, into a kiss that was more teeth and hunger than usual, and this time she couldn’t stop the small, needy moan from escaping, earning a chuckle against her lips as her reward. Aymeric pulled back and favored her with a long look that mingled lust and pure adoration in a way that never failed to make her a bit weak in the knees, then stood and walked over to a small locked cabinet next to their bed.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Kaede stood and followed him, only to be gently seized by the shoulders and spun around, her arms pulled behind her, wrists together. A silk ribbon looped and wove itself around them in a way that was loose enough for comfort – and to wiggle free, if she truly wanted to – but secure enough to hold against mindless writhing. A blindfold followed, and Kaede found herself pulled back against the broad expanse of Aymeric’s chest as one hand wrapped itself firmly around the column of her throat, tight enough to make her heart race and hold her in place, but not enough to choke.

The other wandered its way down her body, undoing the buttons of her borrowed shirt, slipping beneath to cup one of her breasts and tease it to a peak, pinching hard, then releasing and continuing farther down. Fingers slid beneath her smallclothes and traced around the edges of her opening, his touch too light to be anything but frustrating.

Her hips jerked, seeking any kind of friction, and Aymeric withdrew his hand, laughing at her hiss of anger. “The game is patience, is it not? I fear you are doing naught but proving my point, my lady.”

“I have broken no rules – ah!” The hand at her throat released, moving to splay open-handed across her back, as the other swept upwards, behind her knees, lifting her into the air and then depositing her onto the bed with a bounce. “Godsdammit, Aymeric, you could warn me when you do that,” she grumbled, voice a touch more pouty than she’d intended.

Somewhere above her head, she heard a chuckle as the bed next to her dipped under his weight, and then lips brushed featherlight over her forehead. “Forgive me,” he said, with not an onze of contrition in his voice at all.

She hadn’t the time to chastise him for that before his fingers had hooked into her smallclothes and dragged them off her legs with no preamble, the warm breath of his exhale on her inner thigh her only warning for what was to come. Lips and tongue worked over her as large hands pinned her hips to the bed, and she gasped at the sudden, direct contact. Kaede wished she could see him, sharp blue eyes looking up at her from between her legs, or bury her hands in his hair, or wrap her thighs around his ears, but she was helpless to do anything but endure, all her senses narrowed down to the wet heat of his mouth and the pressure of his hands. Her gasps came faster as he continued, unrelenting, and she had completely forgotten the terms they had set by the time pleasure began to well up within her, building, and then –

Nothing. Kaede heard her voice come out as a whine as cold air hit overheated flesh, aching and stymied, on the precipice but with nothing to tip her over it. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard, unsure if her words would come out as pleas or curses, so she kept silent.

His mouth ghosted over the inside of her thigh and she shuddered, hard, as he spoke, “Nothing to say, my love? No requests?”

Kaede shook her head once, sharply, and she could feel the way his lips curved into a smile before he pulled fully away, the weight on the bed lifting shortly after. She had but a moment before one hand was in her hair again, the other at the small of her back, pulling her up into a sitting position and then to stand as he kissed her, the taste of herself heady on his tongue. No sooner had she gained unsteady footing than the hand at the back of her neck shifted to her shoulder, pushing down hard. Her weakened knees buckled, and then hit the plush carpet as she pitched forward, her forehead coming to rest against soft skin and firm muscle.

His play became clear as his fingers slid under her chin and tipped her head back, the broad tip of his cock resting lightly against her lips. Without her hands to steady her, his hand gripping the back of her neck, and with her cunt still throbbing, she would have only a fraction of her normal skill – doubtless his intention all along, to keep her from leaving him in the state he had left her. The utter arsehole. Still, she could not help but part her lips and draw him in, revelling in the soft groan and the way his hand tightened in her hair, the sharp pain of it grounding her. She did her best with the limited range of motion, gratified by every twitch of his hips, every unintentional thrust into her mouth as she tried to take him ever deeper. Not that she truly believed that she could make him lose himself so easily, but she had to at least try.

‘Twas less time than she expected before he pulled her head back and stepped out of her reach, tugging her back up off of the ground and into his arms. Kaede chuckled at the sound of his racing heart, the way his cock throbbed against her leg. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out, so she cleared her throat and tried again, voice hoarse. “No requests?” she echoed back at him, and smirked at his breathless laugh as he pushed her back onto the bed again.

“Tempting, but no.” His hands smoothed back her hair from where it had stuck to sweat-damp skin, gentler than they had been. When he spoke next, all pretense had dropped from his voice, leaving it laden with nothing but love and concern. “You are alright, yes? We can stop if you like.”

A pause in the game, and a way out if she wished one, without admitting defeat. Even in the midst of deepest debauchery, he was a gentleman. Kaede rolled her shoulders as best she could with them pinned behind her, weighing the pain they’d be in the next day against the idea of yielding, then shook her head. “I know how to end this when I’m ready, but I don’t intend to be the one to do it.” She paused, and then continued, “I wouldn’t object to you taking the damned blindfold off, though.”

Dim light hit her eyes, bright after the utter darkness. As her eyes focused in the gloom, she grinned up at Aymeric, noting how disheveled he looked. He was less in control than he’d let on, she thought. He returned the smile before leaning down to kiss her, long and slow in a way that left her feeling warm and relaxed. His mouth proceeded down, teeth scraping over the scales on her neck before biting down on her shoulder. She gasped and twisted as she watched him work his way down with teeth and tongue, love bites blooming in his path on her breasts, her stomach, the insides of her thighs. Between those and the inevitable marks on her wrists, it would leave nothing to the imagination what they had been up to tonight, and she knew the idea of that pleased him as much or more than it did her.

She expected him to linger between her legs, perhaps bring her back up to the edge again, but instead he just dragged the flat of his tongue over her, tasting her, before he made to pull away. Hissing in frustration, she wound her legs around his back, arching up against his mouth as she pinned him in place. Unable to resist, he groaned and returned to his earlier task with renewed vigor, matching her gasps with small moans of his own. It was with obvious reluctance that he grabbed her hips and forced them back to the bed, rising unsteadily to his feet.

Breathless, she stared up at him in challenge, watching him as his eyes devoured the sight of her laid out below him. “This is,” he murmured, “perhaps more difficult than I thought it would be. I have yet one more card to play, however.”

Kaede laughed, but it caught in her throat as the head of his cock nudged at the wet heat between her legs. “You–” she said on a gasp, “play a dangerous game, ser.”

His only answer was to push forward, slowly, so godsdamned slowly, every nerve ending in her body screaming out for friction, for him to move just a little faster, but he gritted his teeth and held firm, sinking into her one agonizing ilm at a time until he was sheathed fully within her, hands trembling where they gripped her hips. His cock pulsed and throbbed within her, her walls clamped down and squeezed, but it was not enough. They stared at each other for one long moment, until Aymeric took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out, his voice splintered and unbelievably tense as he ground out her name, nearly a plea itself.

His hands released her and came to plant themselves on either side of her head, forehead dropping to hers as her legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs and pulled him closer. “I want – gods –” he hissed through gritted teeth, then stopped himself, all his focus aimed inward as she twisted beneath him.

Just the simple act of him being inside her was enough to drive her to the edge of madness, but no matter what she did, his hips were locked firmly into place, and she could not get the leverage to move enough to either break him or push herself over. Instead, all she did was drive herself mad, so close to what she wanted but yet so damned far, until she was nearly sobbing from the ache of it.

And then his hips rocked into hers with a enough force to make her see stars, and she was gasping, words spilling out before she could stop them: “Don’tstopdon’tstopAymericgodsplease–”

The sound that ripped itself out of his throat was nearly inhuman with the rawness of it, and he gasped a breathless litany of “thank yous” and “I love yous” into the crook of her neck as his control shattered utterly, and he drove into her again and again like a man possessed, artless and rhythmless, seeking only depth and friction and–

She broke apart on a moan that might have been called a scream if not for how hoarse her voice was, shuddering and sobbing as waves of pleasure cascaded through her, building again before the last had a chance to break, like a shore battered by a storm.

When finally they subsided, she became distantly aware of other things: the ache in her shoulders that had blossomed into full-blown pain, a sharp stinging sensation along her collarbone, the weight of Aymeric’s body collapsed on hers. When she let out a small groan, his voice answered, and she discovered one source of pain – somewhere in the course of his own release, he had bitten her shoulder hard enough to break the skin. She tapped his backside with her heel, weakly, and he stirred.

“’Meric – my hands –”

That launched him into ungraceful motion, rising off of her and pulling her up with him enough to clumsily pick her bindings free with trembling fingers. “Gods, I’m sorry, I should have –”

As soon as the ribbons loosened, she flung her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss, clinging to him without regard for dignity or anything but keeping him as close as humanly possible. “Shut up, and don’t you dare go anywhere.”

“I fear not even the second coming of the Fury herself could get me out of this bed right now,” he responded with a breathless half-laugh, dropping them both back down onto the bed and twining his legs with hers as they settled onto their sides.

After long moments of catching their breath, Aymeric leaned back enough to favor her with a grin. “I believe, my lady, that by the terms of our game, I am the winner.”

Kaede snorted. “By a technicality only. You wagered it all at the end, because I know that you could not have stopped yourself if I’d held out even a moment longer.”

“Shall we call it a tie, then?”

“Mm. That means we will have to play again, you know. To find out the true winner.”

She grinned as he chuckled into her hair, sounding more tired by the moment. “Those are thoughts for another night, my love.”

Kaede hummed in agreement, and then lapsed into restful, satisfied silence as they both enjoyed the warm, soothing afterglow of victory.