#she is FUCKING those men FULLY CLOTHED. NO STRAP.

[phonydiaries]

whatever the fuck is going on between gaga and those bowl-cut bitches in the alejandro music video is how I would fuck pinocchio nasty style regardless of anatomical correctness

[joszns]

caught red handed ✭

perv!ellie x fem!reader

warnings: ellie’s a lil perv, panty sniffing, mild degradation, masturbation, fingering, 18+, men and minors DNI. I think that’s all!

“oh fuck, fuck, right there!” you whimpered, ellie’s strap pounding into you. she grunted, a bead of sweat dropping onto your arched back.

she grabbed your hips as a way to steady herself, obsessed with the way your ass bounced with every deep thrust.

“im gonna cum, ellie, m-gonna!!” incoherent babbles and sobs left your throat as you neared your peak.

“ellie…ellie…ellie…ELLIE!”

she groaned, rolling onto her side.

you leaned against her doorframe, sweatpants resting low on your hips, crop top cut high. how she wished she could actually touch you underneath those clothes, but all she could do was just be a fucking peeping tom.

“what do you want?” ellie replied lazily, clenching her thighs together. she felt her arousal, silently cursing you for interrupting her dream.

and for just waking her up in general. she values sleep very much.

“im about to go grocery shopping. do you want me to get you anything??” you asked.

“just like…some popcorn…can I text you this later?” ellie asked, rolling back over and snuggling into the covers. she heard you sigh, peeking out from behind them to make sure you had gone. when she heard the door slam, she was safe.

she quickly got up and went into your room, sifting through your laundry until she found a pair of panties. ellie held the slightly damp fabric to her nose, whimpering at the scent of you. she felt more heat pool between her legs, her clit throbbing against her boxers.

ellie returned to her room, shutting the door behind her and shoving her hand into her boxers. she whined, her sopping cunt finally getting the attention it deserved. she inhaled deeply, breathing in and memorizing how you smelled.

“fuck…”

her fingers circled her clit, knees buckling as she slid down the door. she opened her mouth, allowing your panties to fall on her tongue. ellie moaned, fully soaking through the panties with her saliva. her mind began to wander, picturing you twitching and trembling on her tongue as she would eat you out.

how she wished she could.

she was so jealous of every girl you brought home, wishing she was the one making you moan and cry out in pleasure.

ellie scrambled up and went towards her bed, covering herself before continuing to assault her clit.

“ellie, you never texted me what you wanted so you get your own shit or use what I got!” you shouted, placing the grocery bags on the counter.

oh fuck.

“ellie! where are you?” you called out, walking down the hallway and stopping at her door.

she whined, desperately trying to make herself finish before you came in.

“what are you doing…” you opened her door to see ellie quickly hiding something, her hair messy and face flushed.

“sorry i was…working out.” she lied.

“in your bed, under the covers?”

“yeah. not weird at all.”

you looked at her quizzically, stepping further into the room,

“i see some boxers on the floor, are you lying to me, williams?” you asked, approaching her bed.

ellie’s heart raced.

“um..” she stammered.

“were you jacking off?” you pressed on, running a nail down her exposed collarbones.

“i-maybe…” ellie practically whimpered, her clit throbbing beneath the covers.

“yeah? i hope you know, ellie, i can see my panties back there.”

she flushed red, your observation making her even more aroused.

god, she was fucking nasty.

“did i interrupt you before you finished? poor thing…” you whispered into her ear, ghosting your fingers over her tank top covered breasts. her bare nipples ticled your palm as you traced circles into the fabric.

ellie breathed heavily in response.

“such a pervert…” you teased, now massaging her breasts with your whole hand.

“‘s true..” she whimpered, clenching her thighs together. “im fuckin’ nasty, baby.”

you leaned closer to her face, noses brushing against eachother.

“ive noticed how you watch me undress sometimes,” you continued, sliding your hand under the covers and lightly tracing your finger over her sopping cunt. “why do you think i always start groping myself huh? why i put on a show whenever my girls come over?”

she felt like she was gonna explode. her eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes, struggling to focus as your slowly teased her.

“please…” ellie moaned softly, pushing her hips into your palm.

“please what? want me to give in to your fantasies, ellie?” you said, leaning even closer.

she pushed her hips into your palm again, moaning at the contact. you closed the space between you two, firmly pressing your lips onto hers. you applied pressure to her clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive bud. ellie moaned into the kiss, gripping the covers until her knuckles still white as she tried to process what was happening.

you pushed your other hand up her shirt, groping ellies tits. she grabbed your waist, aggressively feeling you up like her life depended on it. she was going absolutely insane. you pulled away from her, watching your fingers work into ellies cunt while she moaned and trembled.

“why don’t you shut up and put my panties back in your mouth huh?” you said as ellie cried out.

goddamn.

this might just be the best night of her life.

[olive-fics]

A day out with Abby (Fem reader)

You and Abby are finally out together, Abby had been busy with work all week and decided to treat you as an apology..♡

Not NSFW but not fully SFW..? Wtv..Mature readers please. MEN DNI! (pls!)

NOT PROOF READ—CORRECT ME🤍🦢

Abby Anderson had always been the kind of person who valued simple moments of happiness. Today was one of those days, a day spent leisurely strolling through the aisles of a bustling mall with you, her girlfriend.

You two had held hands as you made your way through the crowded shopping center. Your fingers intertwined with Abby's strong, calloused ones. Abby's tall, muscular frame contrasted with your smaller, more delicate one, but together you fit perfectly. Abby didn't mind the strange looks, she only cared about pleasing you and making sure you had a cute outfit...it didn't truly matter to Abby though... she was just going to take it off of you later anyways.

"Anything specific you're looking for, babe?" Abby asked, her green eyes peering into yours as she rubbed your hand with her thumb.

There were a few things you spotted while walking through the mall with Abby but you didn't want to overwhelm Abby with your shopping spree needs. Instead, you admired the charming storefronts adorned with colorful displays of clothes, accessories, and all things cute. You couldn't resist peeking into a few windows, ogling at the adorable dresses, quirky trinkets, and fluffy stuffed animals that seemed to beckon with the pearls and light colors..

"Not reall- Oh my god." That's when the most beautiful, white, lacy babydoll dress you have ever seen caught your eyes..You had to have it.

"Look at that dress, Abby!" You claimed, tugging Abby toward the shop. "It's absolutely gorgeous! Can we please go look at it?"

Abby chuckled, her heart fluttering at the sight of your excitement. "Alright, let's check it out."

You ran into the shop and giggled immediately checking out the dress in the display window.

$60.

Abby reached for the dress, gently lifting it off the hanger as she hid the price tag from you. The soft fabric cascaded through her fingers, revealing intricate patterns and delicate lace that made your heart skip a beat. "Let me help you into it princess." You couldn't help but laugh and kiss Abby's cheek, Shuffling as you both make it to the tiny dressing rooms with those shitty curtains.

Abby helped you take off your little Kami and jeans making sure to treat you gently, you were so fragile and perfect.. Abby honestly got nervous around you..

Abby's cheeks turned a soft shade of baby pink as she slipped the dress over your shoulders, her fingers brushing gently against your skin as she adjusted the straps with a delicate touch.

The dress, with its elegant design, hugged your form in all the right places, Abby couldn't help but stare.

"Fuck.. babe- you're so pretty.." Abby mumbled and became a flustered mess..

"Isn't it beautiful?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a gentle touch, she began to pepper your exposed neck and shoulders with soft pecks and kisses. Her lips were warm and tender against your skin. You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation and giggling softly..

"Abby.." You mumbled just watching Abby sprinkle the kisses all over you in the mirror..

“Buying this for you… now,” Abby murmured into your neck, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Her fingers traced tender circles along your waist..

“Love you..”

[love-toxin]

I want to be Dr. Brighton’s controversially young (legal) girlfriend. I want people to whisper and gossip about it…

PRRRR!!!! YOU GET IT!!!! Being Dr. Brighton's pretty lil' gf that's half her age but twice as adorable (in her own words) that she spoils and dotes on and just thinks of nothing else but you. Why a 20-something in college is dating a 40-year-old woman escapes most people, but they don't get to hear Lyza's praise whispered in their ears or ride her strap at all hours of the day, so what they think really doesn't matter. Compared to someone like Adrian, who would worry about spoiling you too much, Lyza can't spoil you enough. No kids and a professor's salary will do that to you. Clothes, books, makeup, lingerie--she even buys you toys to use on her or yourself for the bedroom, gives you her credit card and pulls the website up on her laptop and lets you pick out whatever you want. The only stipulation is that you have to show her whatever you buy when it comes in the mail, and demo it for her so she can show you how to use it...especially those little vibes that come with remote controllers or apps, so she can test it out so to speak.

Honestly Lyza wants people to gossip about it. She wants her colleagues and scholar peers to make comments about the young thing she's got a picture of as her phone's wallpaper, she wants her students to whisper during class about Dr. Brighton having a thing for college girls, and she wants to grin and chuckle at their comments without answering any of their questions because they don't know you at all. They don't know how many times a day you text her a picture of your panties all soaked through, begging mommy to give you some attention when you see her later. They certainly don't know anything about the way you beg when you're in heat, grinding on her hips and hitching your breath when her clit kisses yours, asking and pleading for her to make you cum. And she loves when you get asked out by frat boys or cute alternative girls and you just peer over at her for help, fidgeting with your fingers and mumbling until Lyza comes over and swoops in to save the day.

Not to mention how much she'd love breaking you in, especially if you're her first relationship or you've had a string of bad ones--particularly if those were with men, because she wants to rewrite your experiences and show you what it's like to be with someone who adores you. Your exes wouldn't eat you out? She's there demanding it before you leave for work or school in the mornings, so she can give your pussy the kisses she needs before you head off for the day. Got made fun of for being too fat, or too skinny? Pressured to gain or lose weight? Lyza will snap dozens of photos with her nice camera, put you in skimpy clothes and position you and everything, just for photos she can print out and keep on her in case she needs to see you and get off when you're not around. Trying to shave your body hair? Shut up. She'll finger you until you cry if you wax off that bush she loves for her--unless it itches and you want it gone for your own sake, you'd better keep it. She's not a 20-year-old kid, she's a grown woman, and her tastes have matured.

People probably think that it's a passing phase, too; "Oh, she's just confused" or "She has mommy/daddy issues" or "She's probably getting paid for it", but they're all beyond wrong. Thinking Lyza's just a sugar mommy or you're just 'experimenting' as college girls do is a complete reduction of Lyza's perspective of you. Yeah, she loves fucking you, and she loves your naiveté and the sweetness of your youthful optimism, but she knows fully well and knows that you know that she doesn't bother with people she's not wholly obsessed with. You just happen to be younger, but there's no way you won't be aware of how devoted Lyza is to you as a partner. She already has you named in her phone as "wife", so don't get it twisted--you can have the sugar, but you're not her sugarbaby. You're hers.

[grotesque-floor-puddle]

This is such an obscure issue to have, but my skull is comically large. It always has been. When I was born they had to check if I had fluid on the brain because it was too big. I’m all natural though.

Here’s some things I struggle with because of my stupid big head:

Wearing headbands. They all rest above my ears. I can’t wear costumes with headbands because they pop off. Bandanas barely fit my head, and that’s only if I tie them in a specific way

Wearing headphones. Like headbands, I can’t get them to properly go over my ears even on the most stretched setting

Wearing any sort of safety helmet. Even the ones for adult men are too small for me. If I started to ride a bike I would be fucked because it’s hard to find extra large hats

Wearing those paper crowns that come in Christmas crackers. They always rip

Wearing any hat that doesn’t have a tightening strap. They rest on top of my head

Wearing hats thats do tighten. For some reason, even if I fully undo the tightening bit, it’s still small on my head. It still just sits on top. You’d think that adding a few extra notches for those fat headed freaks would be easy, but nooooo

Putting on necklaces that don’t have a clasp. I can’t get it over my head

Putting on articles of clothing that you put on head first. If the fabric is stiff then I’m gonna have to force myself through there like I’m being given birth to a second time

The only hat I’ve ever worn that fit my head was a beanie. And the silliest thing is that people forget! People forget about my stupidly big head! I’ve gotten gifts that I physically cannot wear lmaoo. I complain to my teacher that the school headphones do not fit me and she doesn’t believe me. When I’ve gone to places where a safety helmet is required, I haven’t had any support when I’ve said it doesn’t fit. I’ve had to walk about in a safety helmet that is balancing on top of my head. It’s such an abnormal thing that people don’t think of it!! I am biologically unable to wear hats!! Fuck me man

[neoculturetravesty]

Rough but soft

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Johnny x Reader Genre: smut, pwp, romance, angst Warnings: 18+, soft dom Johnny, oral (female receiving), protected sex, rough sex, fingering, anus rubbing (female receiving), mild choking, hickeys, lots and lots of angst. Reader wants Johnny to have at her but she also wants so much more. Readers comes with lots of self-doubt, baggage and insecurities. Word Count: 8.2k+ words of straight up filth and angst aka my fav combo

Summary: You’re so tired of trying to find a man who would understand the deep complexities of what you need, sleeping with him, being utterly unsatisfied and then spending the next few weeks avoiding him because you were too ashamed. You were tired of baring your soul, your body, the inner workings of your mind to yet another man who couldn’t satisfy you. So when you meet Johnny Suh, you know right away that he would be the man that makes all your wet dreams come true. But you shouldn’t want him. He’s an idol, and you work for him. You have no right to want him, to lust after him... and you definitely have no right to catch feelings for him.

A/N: This one is for all my Johnny stans! I didn’t plan for this one-shot to get so long but ugh, once I started writing, all my demons were unleashed. Hope you like it! 

You could’ve sworn your apartment was the hottest it had ever been. You didn’t remember messing with the thermostat or closing any windows. You weren’t exactly dressed warmly, either. You were just in your underwear with a pretty spaghetti sleeved top on. Perhaps the heat had more to do with the fact that you were sat on the lap of a man you really liked or the fact that the two of you had been furiously making out for the past ten minutes. 

Johnny’s hands were all over you. They were in your hair, pulling you towards him, angling your head every which way to get more purchase with his tongue. Then his hands were on the small of your back pushing up into your top to feel your bare skin. And when his hands had enough of the skin there, they were up and down the curve of your legs that were curled up into him as you sat side saddle. While your pants laid discarded on the floor, his clothes were still fully on but you supposed there was some use for that by how strongly you were clutching onto the lapel of his jacket. 

Your brain was so fuzzy with the scent of him that you couldn’t even remember what had brought this on. The last thing you remembered was Johnny showing up at your door unannounced, a couple of bottles of soju in hand. Your past few meets had been similarly unplanned, so for convenience’s sake and definitely not anything else, you just went ahead and gave him the code of your apartment. Yes, it was way too early on in the relationship--if you could even call it that, whatever the two of you were doing. You could sense that he was taken aback by it. Whether he was moved by it, or whether to be polite, he had pulled you into him and kissed you.

Now the soju laid abandoned on the table as you drank one another in. He kissed you deeply now, as you sat on him on the couch, like he had been thirsty for days and your tongue quenched him. He was taking the lead in this unrestrained makeout session. But you knew that. He knew that. It’s what you had wanted. It’s what you had asked of him.

You were really putting yourself out there, sharing your deepest secrets and unholy desires with a man you weren’t supposed to be with. But the moment you had met Johnny, you could tell that he felt your energy and you certainly felt his. You knew right away what the both of you had wanted from one another, even if you didn’t say it. You knew it in the way he would entrap you with his gaze when you talked to him. You knew it in the way his arm would pull you in when someone passed by you. You knew it in the way he would let his touch linger any time his hands accidentally brushed against you. It had taken a few dates for you to get to this point, but now this… this was the point of no return. You had to be brave and finally get what you had always craved; or chicken out and go back to being unsatisfied as ever from yet another relationship.

Other men did not give you what you wanted, what you truly wanted; which was to feel a controlled loss of control, not just of the body but also of the mind. You wanted someone who could, quite crassly, hold you down and have at you, but also whisper sweet nothings in your ear while he did so. You wanted a cerebral connection of the souls and you wanted an animalistic gratification of the bodies at the same time. You wanted to have your cake and eat it too. You were so tired of the cycle--of trying to find a man you thought would understand the deep complexities of what you needed, sleeping with him, being utterly unsatisfied and then spending the next few weeks avoiding him because you were too ashamed. You were tired of baring your soul, your body, the inner workings of your mind to yet another man who couldn’t satisfy you. 

When you first met Johnny, you knew right away that this man had what it takes to make all your wet dreams come true. Like his presence validated all that you felt without having to use the words. You felt it in your gut, even when you hadn’t been with him. Your gut could very well have been wrong, because God knows you’ve been wrong so many times before. But your feeling was strong this time... and you just had to find out. So you had approached him.

You knew you were being reckless by being with Johnny in this way. He was, obviously, a famous person, but also--you worked for him. You were a young professional who had finally landed a job in a big company. If someone were to find out, that would mean the end of your career. Johnny could possibly get away with an apology letter that his team would help him curate. But you would be done for. You knew it was risky the first time you slept with him. You knew it the second time. But now as you met for the third time, hungrily kissing one another, you knew things were different. Because, finally, the two of you had been honest about how you wanted one another.

Over the past couple of weeks, you had finally started to communicate in words what the two of you had already felt in one another’s energy. He admitted that he craved you in a much coarser way than he had let on the first couple of times. And you had told him about all your indecent fantasies and how wilfully you wanted to be used, to be claimed, to be made to feel something. 

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Johnny had chuckled back then and you supposed he was right. That’s how people saw you. The quiet one, the determined one, the one that gets her work done on time, the one that never breaks the rules. Onlooking men thought you were some sort of a righteous Virgin Mary because of the innocence on your face. Part of you wondered if being with Johnny was a rebellion against all those men who had ever put you on that unwarranted pedestal. But you also knew that it wasn’t. Because you didn’t just want a body to unleash your lecherous demons on. You wanted it with him, with Johnny, with the man who was slowly lighting your fire, no matter how much you told yourself that it was a bad idea.

That man in question was now softly panting in your face, because his lips had finally unlatched themselves from yours for the first time in 10 minutes. He smiles at you and then buries himself in the junction between your shoulder and neck, kissing and sucking and talking.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day. I couldn’t get any work done because I kept thinking about you.” He says into your neck, sucking down on the skin and you knew he was marking you because it makes you moan out. There is a smile on his face as he pulls back to look at you. He takes your hand in his and leads it to the inside of his thigh, making you feel his hardness through the rough fabric of his pants.

“You feel that? I’ve been like this all day thinking about you.” he says while you look at him with your lips parted. He kisses you again, making you lean back, feeling his heat build under you. 

“I want you to feel the same. I want to make you feel exactly what you do to me.” He says and now his warm hand is slipping into the front of your underwear and you feel the quickening of your heartbeat. You begin softly moaning before he’s even done anything, simply from the anticipation. But then his fingers are flush against your warmth, rubbing up and down, no purpose yet, just feeling.

He’s close to you, too close, you can feel the heat coming off his face on your own skin, you can feel his breath fanning against you. His lips are close enough that they brush against yours as he coos at you “My pretty girl is so wet for me.” The heel of his palm is steady on your clit, pressing down but not giving you as much friction as you need, while his fingers move over and between your folds, feeling your warmth, your wetness, spreading it around as if to see how slick he can make it. His lips have found their way to the base of your throat now and he’s kissing, he’s nipping and he’s sucking and fuck your life because it is turning you on so much you feel like you would spontaneously combust. You’re melting against him at the same time you’re tensing and Johnny can feel your want grow on his fingers. He pulls back to see his work on your skin.

“Mmm, are you going to spend the next week hiding this away, baby?” He asks while his palm keeps cupping your sex, fingers feeling you up, overheating your flesh. It’s rude, the way his hand is down your underwear, the way he is marking you, the way he is talking to you. But your skin is on fire and you’re putty in his arms and fuck, you wouldn’t mind if he were ruder.

“Let me mark you where it would be easier to hide.” He says sweetly and suddenly, his hand that was cradling the small of your back is at the delicate strap of your top and his fingers are looping at your neckline, gently pulling down till he’s made your breast bare and he’s bowing into it, sucking on the first spot of skin his lips could find. Your own lips part and your fingers find his hair as he makes quick work of you, pulling away with a wet, vulgar sound, smiling down at the growing redness on your smooth skin. He blows on it, making you shiver.

“There. Fuck, baby, you look so pretty wearing my marks.” he sighs and then fixes your top over your shoulder so you’re covered again, and somehow, that chivalrous act makes you more bashful than being exposed did. His lips are back on yours and his arm is behind your neck, supporting you. His fingers in your underwear are becoming bolder, circling your needy hole, loving how the more he rubs it, the more you leak out your need onto him. He enjoys having that control over you for a moment, breaking the kiss just so he can watch the contorts of your face as he continues his slow torture. But seeing you like this stirs something more feral in him and suddenly his hand goes lower and starts to rub you where it feels forbidden. You freeze. 

For a moment, your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes shoot open. Fuck, you can’t think. This man has actually put you on your wit’s end. He’s rubbing you there like he knew how you’d react and he just wanted to have this power over you. A display of his claim over your body. You suddenly feel impossibly shy, though the emotion is too mild to truly describe the storm that’s building in you. Your mind is racing, wondering fuck, fuck fuck, do you want this? Do you really want this? Was this something you had talked about with him? Fuck, you can’t remember. But if you’re not sure, why the fuck is it making you so fucking wet?

His lips pressing into your forehead bring you out of your commotion. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.” he says gently, like he read your mind and Jesus Christ, you almost come from the striking contrast between his soft words, his nurturing kiss and the absolutely filthy action of his fingers on your pucker, rubbing not to pleasure but to feel, to claim, almost as if to say ‘Look, I can touch you here.’

“Johnny, please, do something.” you plead at him because frankly, you’ve had enough. Now you just want him to rip away at your remaining clothes and have at it, to have you, to fuck you like he was too polite to do the first couple of times.

But one thing you’ve learnt in the time you’ve been working together (and also the time you’ve spent under him between the sheets) is that Johnny is a patient man. He’s smiling when he looks at you and his voice is so caring in contrast to his presence when he says “Does my baby want more?”

“Yes, please, Johnny, please.” you’re pulling onto his jacket because your hands can’t find purchase anywhere else and you’re whining because you’re needy and the anticipation has been building up for a couple of weeks and you’ve had enough. You want him and you want him now.

Thankfully, he doesn’t tease you any longer because he withdraws his hand from your underwear, hooks his arm under your knees whilst the other cradles your shoulders and he’s lifting you off bridal style and making his way to your room. It blows your mind how Johnny can be filthy and romantic at the same time. He sets you down politely and you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he takes off his jacket. You’d be lying if you said that Johnny simply taking his jacket off wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You had yourself a fine man in front of you and he had made it tonight’s mission to please you. Your eyes were hooded as you looked at him lustfully. He notices and sinks to his knees, pulling your legs till you were on the edge of the bed.

“My girl’s been waiting for this, hasn’t she?” he says and peppers kisses on the inside of your thigh before he loops his fingers around the band of your underwear and slowly slides it down your legs. He looks at you lying bare for him, basically nude and he inhales. “What a pretty sight.” he mutters and then his lips finally go straight for your clit, his tongue rolling over it and over it, his hands holding your legs apart and you let out a deep exhale because yes, yes, yes, this is what you wanted. He’s wasted no time because you told him you needed more and he was all too happy to oblige. So you lay back into the sheets, taking deep breaths, being fascinated by the rise and fall of your own chest. Johnny had learnt early on that you were the quiet type in bed, but tonight, he was determined to make you moan more than you had before. 

You let your head fall back and your eyes close as you feel his warm tongue roll generously over your nub, his mouth servicing you till your hips are grinding against him. The need builds and now you want an erotic visual to help you along so you lift up and tug on his shirt and he understands because he straightens up and pulls it off of him. You see the beautiful caramel planes of his toned chest; your mouth waters. He’s hovering over you now, kissing you with lips that are still covered in your scent till you’re crawling back into the bed. He adjusts your head onto the pillows, making sure you’re comfortable which tells you that he’s not nearly done. 

He puts another pillow under your hips and settles between your legs once more. He holds your gaze as he lowers himself and slowly spits down onto your clit. He looks at you, as if challenging you to stop him and uses the pad of his thumb to rub the slobber around. The sight is as vulgar as it is titillating and suddenly you find yourself thanking the heavens above that you found Johnny Suh. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks with a voice like honey and you look down at him.

“Yes. More, Johnny, please, I want more.” you tell him because fuck, you need it bad, and he nods. He brings his hand to your opening then and gently rubs till he is covered in your slick, then carefully eases his middle finger into you. You’re impossibly wet and he likes it. He wants you to be this turned on. 

He starts to move his finger, slowly fucking you with it then brings his mouth hot on your clit, licking deep, luxuriously strokes onto it. “Is this better, baby?” he asks but you reply with a pent out moan, your hands instinctively going to clutch your breasts, squeezing them through your top that isn’t doing a very good job at covering you. 

Johnny watches and he is pleased with himself. Pleased that he is making you this way, that you’re getting what you want from him. You both shared in your greed of a very similar sexual palette. Lately, you had been open to him about it and Johnny was so grateful to have met you. It turned him on to be with a woman who was so in tune with her needs. It turned him on more to know that he was the one fulfilling them. 

“More, Johnny, please… faster…” you guide him and he hurries to add another finger inside you and suddenly you’re smiling wide because it feels so fucking good. Your hands go to his hair, tugging on it, pressing his head into you even more and you’re grinding up into his face like a harlot, because frankly speaking, you don’t remember being this fucking horny in a good while. You can’t bring yourself to be self-conscious in this moment because it feels so good, so decadent, so freeing, and you can’t tell if you’re being louder than usual.

Johnny can. Because he’s not stopping and now he’s moaning into your slick warmth and his entire mouth is sweet with your taste and he knows you’re close so he only lifts up briefly to say “Come for me, baby.” and you’re pulling his hair, biting your lip, digging one heel so far into the mattress your leg is numb and you’re coming apart on his fingers. Johnny doesn’t stop through it, prolonging your orgasm while your entire body tenses, then comes to life before you let out a deep, happy exhale and Johnny finally lets go, rubbing the insides of your thighs to calm you. 

You grin at him and sit up to kiss him, your fingers splayed behind his neck, kissing him in gratitude for making you feel good, tasting your nectar on his lips, then rubbing your palms on his firm chest. You look down towards what could only be his growing need and your fingers fumble to undo his fly. You begin to get on your hands and knees but he stops you.

“Johnny, let me--” you begin wanting to reciprocate the favor, looking up at him but his expression makes your voice get caught in your throat. His eyes are hooded, dark, lustful.

“No. I want to be inside you. I want to fuck you, right here in your pussy.” he said shortly, and you think you might die. How could those curt, pornographic words turn you on so much? It’s not like you hadn’t heard them before from several other men. Perhaps it was the fact that this particular man had only ever spoken to you with polite respect before. To hear such filthy words from his handsome mouth was an experience you were never going to forget. You wanted him with all the heat that was building up between your legs. But, also... there was something else that you wouldn’t allow yourself to think. That you wanted him because perhaps, you were falling for him, no matter how much you tried to stop yourself.

Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He finds a condom and holds the foil between his teeth while he gets off the bed to rid himself of his pants. Suddenly, and without any sort of a warning, your heart begins to sink. 

You don’t know what it is, but while you sit there watching Johnny strip himself, you feel something deep in the pit of your stomach. You don’t recognize this emotion… this sinking feeling. Is it despair? It can’t be, but it comes close. Is it fright? No, that definitely wasn’t it. You try to think back to all the times you’ve had this feeling in your belly and finally, you identify it. This feeling felt a lot like heartbreak.

You couldn’t understand what was going on inside your head. It was as if behind your crazed sexual want for Johnny in your conscious, your subconscious was fighting you with another, more pressing craving. Like watching him pull out that condom had confirmed some sort of a fear, but you simply couldn’t put your finger on which one it was.

You’re confused. All this man did was extract a condom from his wallet. Why did that break your heart? Shouldn’t you be happy that for once in your sexual escapades, a man had been the one to be prepared? Shouldn’t you be relieved that the man you were sleeping with was putting your safety first? Then what was this strange feeling in the pit of your stomach? You’re still pondering it over whilst Johnny rolls the culpable rubber onto himself and makes his way to you. And when his lips are on yours again, you finally work it out. Your traitor mind had had a thought that broke through the giddiness of your happy orgasm and put a stinging doubt in your heart: ‘He brought a condom because he only came here for sex.’ 

Johnny notices a change in your demeanor by the way your kiss is less present. He pulls back and strokes the top of your head. “Are you sure you still want it that way, baby? We can go easy if you’ve changed your mind.” He kisses you again as if to tell you that he means it.

“I don’t want you to go easy. I want you to show me how far you can take it.” you say resoundingly. You’re not sure why you’ve said this despite the tempest in your mind. Maybe your fucking libido is betraying you again. 

He looks at you for a moment as if trying to read your face, then kisses your lips once more. “Okay, baby. But remember, you can tell me to stop any time, okay?” he assures you and you’re reminded that he really has the patience of a saint. Because his cock is thick and angry with want yet he’s still taking the time to communicate the logistics of what you’re about to do. 

“I will.” you nod. “Johnny, please… just… just fuck me, please.” You beg because you’ve decided… this is what you want. You want it this way at least once, because you won’t be able to stand not knowing. If your heart breaks at the end of this, so be it. You were used to it. And if this would be the last you would see of Johnny, you wanted to make it count.

He doesn’t need telling twice because now that you’re begging, his mind is clouded with the need to own you. So he pushes your legs back into your chest, laying you bare and open for him. You feel vulnerable in this position, too vulnerable, especially with what your mind is doing to you. Usually, it would take you some time to build up to this stance but he wants to start here, where he’s in control and that’s the shit you signed up for. Your breath is quickening in your chest from nervous anticipation and you cry out when Johnny makes his first, unforgiving stroke straight into your core. 

Your eyes close and you’re not sure if you moaned out from pain, pleasure, frustration, emotion, or everything rolled into one. Johnny stills, bracing himself on the backs of your thighs. His own eyes are closed as well and you’re both getting used to the sensation, the fullness, the tightness. He exhales, and brings his lips to your forehead and then to your lips and then he stays there.

His left hand keeps holding onto your leg but his right hand creeps up your body till it softly closes around your throat. You feel the effect of this simple action in your core and in the way it squeezes around him, making him hiss.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay baby?” he says to prepare you and you nod and suddenly he’s slamming into you and it’s pulled such an infernal keen out of you that you’re sure this is it. This is what you’ve always wanted, this is the feeling you’ve been chasing all your life. Your head had rolled to its side, your cheek pressing into the pillow to absorb the intensity you feel while Johnny is hovering over you, hand braced around your neck, pumping into you right from the start.

Your body is jolting up in time with his thrusts, your breasts lewdly moving under your top. Johnny is looking down at you in wonder, timing his movements to his grunts and watching your face through all the emotions. It’s too much too soon and your hands are flying meaninglessly to grip at something, something that would anchor you because fuck, Johnny has set a pace that you can’t possibly match right from the start. You try to grip at the sheets, or the pillow under your hips but you finally settle on Johnny’s arms. You’re pulling at him as if you want this to end, as if you’re telling him to stop but you don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop.

“Is this what you wanted, babygirl? Is this how you wanted to be fucked?” Johnny asks as he keeps slamming into you. Why the fuck did it hurt so good? You usually liked there to be a build up, to have it start low and slow and build to it’s crescendo. So how come you were allowing this man to use your body like this and how come you never wanted this moment to end?

“Yes, yes, yes, Johnny, please… don’t stop, don’t stop…” the sound of your own voice shocks you, almost like you’re having an out of body experience and you’re actually dismayed by how manic you sound. Your voice is thick with lust, it is breathless, your pussy is the wettest it has ever been because you can feel your own slick running down your cleft. You can feel Johnny stirring places inside you you weren’t sure existed. His own moans have picked up and his hand around your throat has tightened, as if he were truly using it to anchor himself.

“Can I go faster, baby?” He asks with a strained voice and you take no time in answering “Yesss!” even though your eyebrows knit together from how much this is already.

His eyes close and he bares his teeth, almost like he was in pain and was trying to absorb it and then he lays over you, his head is by your shoulder while his hand never leaves your neck and suddenly, he’s moaning out, going faster, fucking you into the mattress.

The carnal sounds of your skins slapping and Johnny’s deep moans probably mask the fact that you’re crying out. Your hands are around Johnny’s wide back, your head is pressing into his shoulder, you’re clinging onto him with everything you have… you’re almost hanging onto him while he fucks you down, going so fast you feel lightheaded.

“Johnny please, I need to come.” you whimper and you’re not sure if you’re sobbing or not.

“No, no, baby, just let me go a bit longer.” he whines into your neck like he was in heaven and never wanted to leave. So you take deep breaths, you try to lay back and let Johnny have at it, give him what he needs because he was giving you what you needed. But his moans are hot in your neck, his weight is luxurious over your body, his length is so good inside you that you can’t really hold out any longer, no matter how much you’re trying to let him have his time.

“Johnny, please, I need to come or I will die.” you all but growl at him. You’ve never heard your voice sound like that but you can’t bring yourself to care.

He pulls back and then brings one hand to the top of your head, cradling it, stroking it. “Look at me, baby.”

You try, you really try but he’s giving you so much pleasure, it feels almost sinful to take it with eyes wide open but his hand on your neck has come up to grab at your jaw, holding your chin.

“No, no, no, baby, don’t hide from me. Look at me. I’m not going to let you come if you don’t look at me.” he says and now he’s using his words to own you, too, not just his body and this doesn’t help the matter. You get so fucking turned on that you want your release now and you realize that the only way you’re going to get it is if you obey. That thought alone is as profane as it is freeing.

So you look at him, and you’re worried about how wanton you look, how disheveled you look, how disoriented you look. But he’s holding your head prisoner, grabbing your chin, cradling the crown of your head, looking down at you so tenderly while he fucks into you.

He pecks your lips romantically and says “Come for me now, pretty girl.” and you finally meet your sweet, sweet relief. You’re whining, you’re panting, you’re frowning, every single muscle in your body is tensing against him, but you dare not look away. You don’t even realize how deep your fingertips are digging into both his biceps while you come on his cock and he moves in you through it all, holding your gaze. 

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you...” he keeps assuring you, stroking your head while you shake and quiver under him.

It’s the first time you’ve done this, looked at your partner through your orgasm, being made to keep your eyes open just to connect with him in a moment of complete and utter vulnerability. It is godless. It is liberating. It is the most erotic thing you’ve ever done.

You didn’t realize you were straining your neck till your head falls back into the pillows and you feel the tension subside. You feel spent and you thank the heavens above that Johnny has stilled in you. In your euphoria, you didn’t register whether Johnny got to finish or not. He’s kissing you in a way that is--dare you say it? So loving. You push that thought away to let your mind ponder over something else: damn, Johnny Suh is a talented man. He’s smiling when he looks at you and kisses you deep.

“You look so beautiful when you come for me like that.” He strokes the side of your face sweetly and then his hands are tugging your top off of you, making you completely exposed to him. The hickey he gave you earlier is blooming now and he hums deeply in his chest as he sees it. 

“You need a matching one here.” he says and begins to mark you on the other side, but it doesn’t extract quite the same reaction from you as the first one had done because you’re too spent. Johnny doesn’t seem to mind because he’s letting you lay back as he kneads at your breasts, tongue circling over your peaks. You lazily run your fingers in his hair. He comes up and kisses the side of your face.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks kindly and you nod, pulling his head into a slow kiss as your answer. 

“Mmm, okay, good. Because I’m not done with you yet.” he says in between kisses and that’s when you realize he’s still hard. So he hadn’t, in fact, finished. 

He brings his fingers to your clit and circles gently but you jump away from his touch, grabbing at his wrist. “No, I don’t think I can take that anymore.” you tell him desperately and he takes mercy on you. 

“Then flip over for me.” He pulls out of you carefully and it’s then that you realize how swollen you are. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, you know it. When you take too long, he grabs at your waist, turning you on your belly and swats at your ass. You gasp, more at the sound of the impact than the impact itself and then your motivation is back. You want to please your man. You want him to come for you. 

Johnny takes a pillow and places it vertically and lays you on top of it, giving you something to hold onto. It feels soft and comfortable. He’s been chivalrous so far. He’s been taking care of you and so he feels like he’s earned his keep. He can have you any way he wants. So he spreads your cheeks with both hands and licks at your hole a few times, just to make sure you’re still wet enough for what he’s about to do. He takes his hardness in his hands and lays himself on top of you carefully, not with his entire weight, though… he’s still supporting himself on his free arm that’s on your side. He rubs his tip against you a few times and you gasp with how swollen and sensitive you feel.

“Ready, baby?” he says in your ear and you can hear him so much more intimately in this position. He listens for your approval and then he pushes into you so fast, it has you yelping, it has your chest lifting off the pillow you’ve been hugging, it has you panicking, saying

“Johnny, wait, wait, wait, wait, please…” your sentence ends in more gasping sounds of discomfort. Johnny snakes an arm under you, holding onto your shoulders and his lips are on your temple, kissing over and over.

“Shh… baby… shhh, it’s me, it’s only me…” he reassures you and you know in your heart he’s never going to hurt you, but you simply couldn’t have held back your visceral reaction. He feels it, feels the anxiety in your body because he’s easing your head into the crook of his elbow and his lips are kissing at your temple and your shoulder so tenderly, you feel like you’re going to cry. “I’m going to go slow, okay?” he tells you softly. He cradles you with his arm that’s around your shoulders and snakes his other arm under you, his hand splaying out over your abdomen. He pulls you up into him, kissing your skin repeatedly to communicate care and then he starts moving into you, slow.

You whimper, but there is no pain now, only pleasure. You’re biting your lip because somehow it still feels intense, even at this pace. Rough or soft, this man was making you feel things you had only ever fantasized about. ‘Is it always going to be like this?’ you wonder, but you stop yourself. You didn’t have the luxury to have such thoughts because there wasn’t going to be another time. The thought has tears stinging in your eyes and you hide your face in Johnny’s forearm that’s encasing your chest. 

Thankfully, it works because Johnny is cooing in your ear again “Does it feel good now, baby?” and it does, fuck, it does, but you don’t want him to be this nice if it’s going to make you have such treacherous thoughts. So you say,

“Faster. I want it hard.”

Johnny turns your head with his hand so he can look at you when he asks “Are you sure, baby?” 

You nod and while he’s not totally convinced, it’s what you’ve asked. It’s what you’d been asking the past couple of weeks. So he has to oblige. He strengthens his cradling arms and pulls you into him tighter as if to buckle you up and then he lifts his hips and starts moving into you faster and you hear the slapping of his skin on yours once again. 

His forearm moves higher from the planes of your chest to your neck and suddenly, he’s holding you in a headlock, and even if he’s not applying any pressure, it’s enough to make you moan. His breaths are more labored now and so he talks.

“Fuck, Y/N… I think about you all the time. All I ever do is think about you. Did you know that?” he groans right in your ear and your heart swells. You feel hopeful again, like you were before he had pulled the condom out. Your moan comes out in a broken laugh, like a sound of relief but you’re pleading at him again.

“Faster, please, please…” you beg and he wants to give you everything so he lays his entire weight on top of you and really pins you down. It takes a lot of effort, but he wants to please you and soon he manages to build a rhythm that’s so impossibly fast that you feel nothing but him, hear nothing but him, think nothing but him. You don’t realize that you’re chanting his name over and over, you don’t realize that you’re pulling onto his forearm around your neck as tight as you can, you don’t realize that you’re writhing so much under him that you’ve exploded on him, you don’t realize that you’re not falling for this man. You had pretty much already fallen for him.

“Ahh… Y/N…” he gasps and he’s said something else as well, but the ringing in your ears made it difficult to hear it.

You feel the absence of him when he pulls out of you abruptly and he’s sitting up, urgently stroking himself, groaning as he finally finds his own release. 

A moment of stillness hangs in the air. Like the calm after a hurricane. The telling sounds of your impieties have ended, leaving only your breaths in their wake.

Johnny leans over you, combing your hair away from your face as if to check on you as you lay on your stomach unmoving. He kisses your cheek, then strokes the spot tenderly with the backs of his fingers. Your eyes close because you don’t know what’s going to happen now. Johnny moves away, sitting on the edge of the bed to discard the condom and you sneak a peek at him. You watch the muscles in his broad back protrude and you miss him already. He lifts off and walks away for a moment and your heart yearns for him. You wonder what it would be like to wake up to him next to you. You close your eyes again because his words from earlier are still ringing in your ears ‘I think about you all the time.’ They sounded so sincere, though men would say whatever you needed to hear during sex. But they came from him, and he’s never made an empty promise.

You feel the warm wetness of a washcloth being carefully dabbed on your skin, between your legs, over your sex and suddenly your heart is so full. He’s softly turning you around and easing you into a shirt he probably found in your closet. How could you not fall for such a man?

“Come here.” his voice says and you open your eyes to see that he’s laid down again, wearing only his boxers and he’s pulling you into his chest. You lay your head over his heart and listen to it thrum in his chest. This moment is surreal and you can’t help but feel like this is where you belong, and that feeling is solidified when you feel his arms wrap around you, his lips on the crown of your head. You’d never had afterglow feel this sweet, perhaps because you’d never had sex that felt this good. This is what you had wanted all your life. This feeling right here. No one had understood your needs better than this man. Johnny knew perfectly how to take you rough but soft. To make it coarse but sweet. To make you feel used but safe. To make you feel docile yet liberated. And he had told you that he thought about you all the time. You feel a smile grow on your lips as they pressed against his chest. This moment felt absolutely perfect.

“I have to get back to the dorms.”

And there it was. 

You turn your head to the sound of his voice and he slowly sits up. “I’ve got an early morning schedule tomorrow and I don’t want to have to explain why I didn’t come in with the guys.” He says as he gets off the bed and starts dressing himself. You nod because, well. What did you expect? You stand up as well, picking up your discarded underwear and sliding it on, keeping your back to him because you couldn’t stand to see his face.

“I’m going to see you there, anyway, right?” He asks and you try to keep your face as devoid of emotion as possible.

“Right.” You reply because you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. You feel like your chest has been hollowed, like someone has sucker punched you in the belly. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t hope. You had told yourself that you just wanted to see if Johnny could give you what you liked in bed. That was all. He hadn’t promised you anything else. He wasn’t obligated to stay. And what he was saying made sense. You both had the same appointment tomorrow, both for different reasons, but you both had to be at the same place at the same time. You knew everything in this situation was logical. So why was your heart shattering in your chest? 

He’s dressed now and he’s looking for his phone, his keys and his wallet outside in the living room. You follow him slowly, wrapping your arms protectively over the shirt he put on you. He gets everything he needs and heads for the door and you walk him out only because it feels like the right thing to do. He turns to look at you at the door and you look at him. Words remain unspoken. You’re not sure what he reads on your face because he looks like he was going to say something but he changed his mind. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says and he’s polite enough to smile. He turns on his heel, and is out the door that closes with a finalizing shut. And just like that, he’s gone.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, looking at the broad expanse of wood he’s just disappeared behind. You’re not sure why your shoulders are shaking or why your breath keeps choking your throat. You turn around because what’s the point? You’ve done this before. This has happened to you before. Why should this time be different from any of the other times?

You don’t know how you make it back to your room because your legs are so weak and your vision is so blurred. You really thought it was going to be different this time. That he was going to be different. But once again, your heart has been broken. He had used you good, left his marks on you so you would see him, feel him for days, and just like that, he had left. 

Why did no one ever stay? What was it about you that made men look at you like a pump and dump? Why did you bare your mind, your soul, your body in front of yet another man when you knew what was going to happen? Why did you never learn? Why did you keep hoping that things would be different? Why did you give yourself so easily when no one ever wanted you? Why were you so unwanted? 

You’re pretty sure you’re sobbing because your hand is instinctively clutching onto your heart. The heart that had already been broken too many times, but this time, the injury felt much, much worse because you were in love. You were in love with Johnny. You knew that now. You know you were foolish to have fallen for a man you weren’t allowed to want. You had known it all along. You had never meant for things to go this far. No, you had hoped that things would go this far. Hoping was, in fact, the biggest sin you had committed in this strange tragedy. And you had paid the price for it. He didn’t want you, he could never want you. Why would a man like him want you? What were you to him? You were just another willing girl that threw herself at him. The man had been happy to sleep with you like normal people did, but no. You asked him, practically begged him to take you like a back alley whore. So of course, he was going to fuck you into oblivion and when the blood wasn’t rushing to his cock, he would realize how fucking deplorable you were as a woman for allowing this to happen to your body. Of course he couldn’t want you. You were unwantable. Suddenly, you can’t hold yourself up anymore… it was too much, it was all too much. It hurt so bad. You didn’t expect it to hurt so much that your legs couldn’t hold you up and you were sinking to your knees.

Strong hands grabbing at your shoulders, turning your around. 

You look up, tears blurring your vision, your breath hitching faster than your heartbeat, like you’re hyperventilating. You’re still clutching onto your chest like you’re trying to hold yourself together but failing. And he’s the one holding you, the one who caught you before you could fall to your knees. It’s him. He’s here, right in front of you. He’s looking back at you, with eyes intense, nostrils flared. And you’re looking back at him, unable to hide the outpour that he had left when he walked out that door. And you remember--he had your code.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?!” he asks urgently, holding onto your shoulders tight.

“I didn’t know I could.” you reply truthfully, your voice shaking and it makes you cry more and you can’t fake it anymore. This is what you feel and he’s seen it now. There was no point in hiding it.

“Y/N…” he takes your face in his hands strongly and kisses your tears. “Y/N, can’t you see? Can’t you see that I’m in love with you?” he says at you with such a burning intensity that it puts a halt to your tears.

“Huh…?” you look at him with round eyes, your self-doubt making it so hard for you to take in his confession.

But he makes it clear. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while. I didn’t tell you because… I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted. If that’s how you wanted to be with me. But I see it now, Y/N. I know you’re in love with me, too. Am I wrong?”

You can’t find your voice because the emotion is welling up inside you again. So you shake your head furiously. You weren’t like Johnny--you never could find the right words at the right time. You communicated everything physically. That’s why you pull him into a kiss and though your face is streaked with tears, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

He pulls you in strongly, kissing you like a victory, kissing you like a promise.

You don’t believe this. After years and years of searching, trial and error, getting your heart broken and doing it all over again, you finally got the man. You finally got a man who wanted you in the same way you wanted him. You had yourself a man that cared for you and loved you. You had yourself a man that was willing to be patient with you when you couldn’t put in words what you felt in your heart. 

You had yourself a man whom you could ask to stay and he would.

So tonight, you laid on his chest and he held you impossibly close. Telling you that he won’t go anywhere as long as you wanted him. Telling you that he loved you exactly how you were, broken pieces and all. Telling you that you were worth the effort he would have to make in the morning to seem unsuspicious to prying eyes. Because in exchange, he got to hold you close into the night. Tonight, you prayed for sleep to take you quickly because you were excited to wake up. Because in your heart, you knew that when you did, he would finally still be next to you.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[han-shinsuke]

h a n d h e r o v e r

f e m a l e r e a d e r 🌹

m i n o r s k e e p o u t

[ tags, smut, nsfw, anal, foursome, themes ]

—•—

Without prior notice, he shows up in front of your dorm, dressed casually. You invite him inside but declined, telling you to come with him somewhere. You argue with him, insisting that you should change to something presentable but Bokuto seems to be in a rush so you have given up when he uses his puppy eyes. Inside his car, you keep checking your looks and it disappoints you. Unlike him, you look so ordinary. Well, you are someone insignificant. What’s the difference anyway?

“I’m gonna 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 you later, Y/N,” huh? you shot him a confused look at the use of some endearment.

You laugh awkwardly, “what, Kou?” he is your best friend and your secret crush.

“You look like a kid in your clothes and considering your height, you really look like 𝒐𝒏𝒆.” you pout your lips and he bursts out laughing.

It’s his fault! He didn’t even let you fix yourself! You were running around the University’s oval when he calls. Now, who’s fault it is that he’s being accompanied by a lady in core 5 inch shorts in black and a plain hoodie?

“Shut up, Kou. You’re annoying!”

After driving for almost an hour, Bokuto parks his car in front of Sakusa’s house.

Wait. Sakusa’s house?! You grab onto the belt when Bokuto tries mounting off the safety strap.

“Wait, Kou! Why the fuck are we here?!” you panic. Sakusa, you, and Oikawa are both in an unstable relationship. Not romantically, okay! You are their damn victim! They’re not criminals, well closer to that! Those two are your bullies and they are friends with your best friend, Koutaro Bokuto!

He taps your temple and comforts you that everything will be fine, that you won’t be harmed while he’s around, “it’s Omi’s birthday. He invited us for lunch.”

You nod your head. There’s no point in arguing. You were already there. He has your sweating hand inside his palm when you both entered the house.

“Give me ten seconds, Kou.”

Sakusa’s house rule no. 1; leave your shoes outside but if you are his friends, go straight in.

You remove your sneakers and leave your white socks on. You have been there before and you almost familiarised yourself with his rules. Since he considers you as his enemy rather than his subject of bullying, you are not allowed to sit or touch anything inside his home so you remain standing near the stairs when Bokuto runs to Oikawa in the kitchen.

You give Sakusa a nod as he descends from the top landing. He smells clean and fruity tuitee and you couldn’t help but blush when you notice his stare goes down to your feet.

Your insides trembles from the intensity of his gaze and that makes you feel like running away or hide from his sight.

Your breathing halts when he kneels after removing his fur slippers. His warm hand grab your ankle then slide your left foot in his slipper, then your right foot.

He didn’t speak a word. He just pointed you to the kitchen. His footwear is too big for your small ones but you still manage to walk comfortably.

While helping in the food preparation, Sakusa and Oikawa are constantly bumping their muscular arms against your shoulders. They even teases you that you lack in the free access of healthy foods in the fridge in your own home that’s why you’re thin and small. You 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕, okay?! They’re just huge and very athletic that developing muscles and all is no issue to them. And your case is different. Your height is 5'3", you weight right, meaning your body mass index is normal! Again, they are huge people and they look down on your kind. And these men prefers model-like body figures for women!

You let it all pass. You seem immune to all the teasings and soft pinches that those were no longer affecting you. Sakusa leads the way to his theater room, while you, Bokuto, and Oikawa are in charge of bringing all the foods in there.

There’s a long and wide white couch that looks like a king sized bed in the center and there’s also a big screen mounted on the wall. You settle on the lone chair in the viewing room, sit properly and try avoiding Sakusa’s intense gaze.

What? You did nothing to him!

The three men sits besides each other, Oikawa scrolls on the menu of which genre of movies to watch, Bokuto starts picking up some tarts and chews it. And then, there’s still him, Sakusa! Staring at you!

“Hand her over, Koutaro.” your face turn pale when Sakusa pulls his shirt off his body and leans on the couch.

You couldn’t find the will to speak. You stoned on your seat. Bokuto whistles, inching closer to you. He cups your face and whispers soothing words.

“Wh–what is happening here, Kou?” you sound nervous. Bokuto brings you closer to Sakusa. You grab onto your best friend’s arms. “Koutaro... ” a breathe of panic.

“You are his present to me, Y/N. You’re the desserts.” Sakusa pulls you down on his lap, he breathes closer to your hair. Something is growing in between his thighs. You look so scared. He gets even aroused.

“wanna rub my tongue on his pussy, Koutaro,” Oikawa moves closer, too, licking his lips.

“I’m... I’m not—” Oikawa stops you from talking, taking your chin in his hand. “You’re not what, Y/N?” he asks seductively.

“Kou–Kou... help me.” you hold onto his hand, giving him a scared look.

Sakusa tugs on your long hair before latching on your earlobe, “don’t worry, Y/N. Koutaro will help you. He will help you fuck yourself to sleep.”

And the talking ended there.

Oikawa snatches your face and slams his mouth on your opened ones, rolling out his tongue into you before brushing roughly his lips against your lips. Your both hands twitches, the kiss is electrifying. You try to pull away but he restrains you by gripping lightly your neck. You hear Sakusa laughs. He wraps his arms around your body, locking you in restrictions. Oikawa continues kissing you roughly that you can feel his warm saliva dripping from his mouth down to your chin. You didn’t respond to his kisses. You were in shocked. When he sucks on your lips and tongue, you didn’t recognise the moan that passed your lips.

“Undress her quickly!” still in a rush, Bokuto puts his words into action. He separates you from Oikawa’s mouth. You were panting when he pulls out your hoodie, showing your uncovered titsx in broad daylight. They look perfect and round and flushed. The three men growls, pouncing all at one on you. Bokuto has the right breast, Sakusa’s on the left and Oikawa, he moves between your legs, pushing your shorts to the side to take a good look on your rosy folds.

Oikawa licks the slit back and forth until it gets covered with his saliva. He chuckles when your body twitches. He dips his mouth again, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clitx while scratching your inner thighs. You moan loudly, arching your back again and again. Your moan matches the others’ moans and grunts. Both Sakusa and Bokuto are sucking on your titsx and they’re doing it like they’re milking on you. Swirling sharply their tongues and grazing their teeth on its softness. Damn. You didn’t even say yes to them!

Unknowingly, your mouth also salivates as well as your cunt being treated like a meal by Oikawa’s hot and needy mouth. He’s swirling his tongue and he’s sucking you there so noisily.

“Tooru~” you moan his name when he starts pumping digits into you while his thumb is pressing hard on your clitx. Your legs stretches up and down whenever his fingers goes deeper and harder and at the same time, circling his knuckles hard as well on your cunt. He makes you drip like crazy and it’s evident on your oozing core and salivating mouth. He laughs triumphantly, giving you the best finger fuck and tongue fuck. Your body convulses when you come in waves, the two men abandons your chest to join Oikawa slurping your first and rich orgasm.

They pushes your legs up and there are three long and thick tongues slurping and licking your tight pussy that still waves down thick juices. You find support by grabbing on the edges while you were being worshipped by their mouths. A squeal escapes your lips when you feel someone’s tongue poking your anusx.

When they finished, Oikawa pulls you near the edge and kneels in front of your head hanging by on the ends. He’s the first one to get fully naked before Sakusa and Bokuto.

“Kou~” your eyes waters, not in fear but in excitement and other unnamed feelings.

Sakusa goes below you, putting your small body on top of his own while slowly inserting his fat cockx in your tight pussy. You let out a yelp when his balls bumps on your opening. He’s deep inside you!

“Sakusa hnngggg~ sooo deeeppp haaahhh!” you grip his arm that locks your head beside his by putting it tight around your neck. You struggle to breathe properly so you gasp for air. His other hand goes to your stuffed cunt and slaps your folds harshly until he hears you sob and cry.

“Enough, Omi, she’s sore already.” Bokuto slaps Sakusa’s hand away and replaces it by his own, giving soft touches and light kisses.

“Hmm~ Kou... Kou... ” you cry his name, grabbing his hand toward your mouth. You kiss his fingertips and suck on them later. Earning soft moans and heavy breathes from him.

Bokuto takes his hand from your grasp and gives you slow and sensual kiss on your lips. You feel Sakusa inching his length out but you give no enough attention to it. What matters now is how Bokuto kisses your numb lips. He’s good and it feels good.

Your dear friend ends the kiss but not his finger work on your clitx. He’s rubbing it softly.

“My turn baby doll.” you almost forgot about him. Oikawa kisses you again and what he does next surprised you. He shoves his cockx in your mouth, all the way down to your throat. You gag at how big he is but you can’t do anything to remove it not now that he starts moving in and out.

Your moans gets dissolved by Oikawa’s rough fucking inside your mouth. He moans louder than you and his friends and you feel like doing the same so you cooperate with him, sucking him in while he fucks his length harder to your throat.

Down to the remaining men, Sakusa has been hammering your tight cunt with his massive cockx and swear! Your eyes widened when Bokuto positions his big cock head to where Sakusa’s fat one is inserted.

You put your free hand on his abdomen when he hovers over you, slowly joining his friend’s dick into party.

No, Koutaro! You’re gonna rip me with your cockx!

But he didn’t stop. He slides his fat member into your stretched core! Stretching it even wider with Sakusa’s!

Oikawa moans louder and louder and he even dirty talks while spurting his thick loads in your mouth. You gag on it and you do nothing but swallow it all.

When it’s your turn to moan and scream, you give all your best in doing it because fuck, it’s hurt having two fat and long shafts inside your cunt. So you moan and cry and then repeat while ramming themselves into you. Your body shakes and your lips quivers and they huffs and pants and slams their hips until you bleed thick and rich heat again, covering their cocks with your juice and their sperms.

Bokuto and Sakusa only pulls out when they empty all of their loads inside you.

It’s not over, Oikawa pulls you and folds you in mating press, inserting his hard cockx into your leaking hole, pumping faster while kissing your roughly again. He does it again. The rough and deep pumping. The rough kisses that leaves your lips swollen and numb.

“Tooruuu aahhnnggg~ hmmppp~” you shake your head, he’s using you so rough. You can feel the weight of every thrust and you wish for it to be over.

Again, it’s not over even after he cum inside you. He flips you on your stomach, pushing his cockx back inside you. He pounds you harder from behind, groping your chest before slapping your ass as he keeps pounding. You cry. And cry. And cry.

Three times. Oikawa cums inside you three times before handing you back to Sakusa who chooses to fuck you ass up, too.

“Not today, Omi. Her parents would notice. She comes home every weekends.” Bokuto advises his friend when Sakusa put his tip on your anusx.

Sakusa spits on his length and on your anusx, “okay, I won’t anal fuck her hmm~” he says but does it anyway.

He shoves right there! Sliding his full length inside your ass. You let out a loud cry and sob hard. Sakusa laughs. Oikawa, too. Bokuto attends to you and takes your both hands, drawing circles at the back of your hand he’s gripping tightly.

“Kou... Kou... it hurts, please, Kou... ” you cry while holding hands with your best friend.

Sakusa starts grinding his hips against your and that makes you feel the very pain of being analed. Bokuto didn’t leave you. He keeps holding your hand while Sakusa pounds you senselessly, almost adhering you deep against the softness of the couch.

“Ssshhh, baby~ you can take him~ you’ll feel good.” you focus on his words while endurimg Sakusa’s rough thrusts.

“Kou—” you were cut mid sentence. Sakusa pulls you away from Bokuto, flipping you on your back again to face him.

You can feel his loads dripping from your assholex but he’s not done yet. He separates your legs and dips between your thighs, pushing his shaft back.

You wince in pain when he slaps your swollen folds. You tell him it hurts with tears in your eyes but he just smiled. Slapping for the last time before rocking you again and this time, claiming your lips. He kisses expertly and you find yourself returning his kiss even though your lips hurts.

“Omi... ” you cry his name softly and that stuns him for seconds, watching your face contorts in beautiful pleasure. He sees something different in you in that state so he rocks you deep but slow this time, kissing your chin down to your neck and moments later, he’s shooting his loads inside you while still kissing you slowly.

Once again, that moment isn’t over yet, Bokuto takes you inside his arms and brings you in the backyard where there is a inflatable pool set up near the wooden fence.

The sun is up and so is his cockx.

He puts your nakedness in the cold water and slow fuck you there but bruising your whole body with his deep bites and tight grips. He pushes the hair strands that covers your face while ramming himself into you. He looks at you softly and he notices your puffy eyes from all the crying.

“You good, baby?” his voice is gentle so you smile, nodding your head until it slowly falls down backwards. You feel drained and you can’t keep with his deep rumblings while moving up and down on his lap.

He catches your head on time, eyes fluttering from being overworked.

“Kou, I like you. I lied when I say it’s Omi.” you confess before closing your eyes.

Bokuto does your job, he moves your ass up and down his length even though you fell asleep on him. As he shoots his loads inside, he says this, “but Omi found you first, Y/N. He’s afraid to tell you his feelings so he finds another way to get close to you. By bullying you, he gets closer and closer. I just jumped in the scene and befriended you. I like you, too, Y/N. But he likes you first. So, you are his.”

But, you didn’t hear it. You were too tired to fight against the need to sleep.

Two hours later...

You were in the backseat, straddling on Sakusa’s laps, his cockx installed inside your creaming cunt while holding you tight as he kisses your lips torridly.

On your way home,

Bokuto drives the car.

While Sakusa is fucking you mercilessly in the backseat.

With all the bruises and marks of ownership, there’s no doubt you are his.

You are Kiyoomi Sakusa’s property.

[babybatscreationsv2]

Chikan

Marvel | Starker + Peter/OCs

The first time Peter gets groped on a crowded subway, it was completely unexpected. All the other times... well, let's just say he enjoys teasing old business men. The only thing that could make it better is if Tony Stark would notice. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings under the cut

Warnings: initial romnoncon, old man kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness

The first time wasn't his fault. It was a hundred damn degrees in New York and the only way to survive was to dress light and stay out of the sun. Which meant wearing a small pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt. He hadn't thought anything of it. After all, he'd never been sexually harassed before. It wasn't something he had ever thought to avoid.

So, crammed into a crowded morning train, Peter thought of his outfit other than that it was saving at least his legs from getting sweaty. His shirt was starting to cling to him. Someone brushed against his ass and there was no room in front of him to move without cramming his groin against the woman in front of him, therefore there was no where at all to move. He assumed it was an accident. Then it happened again. Just a light little touch. Then a firmer, more deliberate one.

Peter froze, mortified. The hand went away and he turned around to look. Behind him were several older business men, not one of them was younger than fifty. None of them looked at him and he had no way of knowing who it was. So he turned back around and tried to forget it ever happened. Until it happened again.

A rough hand palmed his ass, rubbing and squeezing. Fingers traced the bottom of his ass cheeks where they must have been sticking out of his shorts. The man behind him grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled him up. The material pulled up into his ass crack and he knew his full ass was out. His face heated, burning red. He didn't know why he didn't stop it. It would have been easy to whip around while that hand was still on his ass and see who it was and tell them off. But he liked it.

They rubbed and palmed and groped his ass. All the while Peter's mouth watered and his dick started to harden. A finger teased between his legs, touching him through the fabric. It felt unbelievably good.

He shifted, spreading his legs a bit. The man grew bolder, grabbing his crotch with his full hand, rubbing and squeezing him there too. Peter's legs shook. Then the train started to slow and the hand withdrew. Peter wanted to right his shorts, but he was so embarrassed that he couldn't even move. Not until the crowd began to push through the doors.

The second time it happened was entirely on purpose. Peter even went out and bought shorts in a thinner material so he could feel it better and he wore nothing underneath. He was nervous, but he hopped on the same morning train in the same car. He stood right in the middle holding on the strap above his head. It wasn't quite full yet so he hoped his groper would take the bait.

As people filled in, Peter didn't see any of the men from before. His heart sank with disappointment, but as the subway began to move, someone brushed his ass. He froze again. Then he relaxed. He tried to hide his smile. Someone else was interested.

He didn't think they were going to try again, but eventually they did, slowly growing bolder with each touch until they were palming his ass. Peter licked his licks. Fuck, he was addicted. They pulled their hand away and Peter risked looking behind them. They were all older, graying, business men, but different men than the last time. Some part of him wanted to turn around and beg to suck their cocks, but it scared to even think he could be that slutty.

He thought he had spooked the guy, but the hand came back, fully palming his ass. Peter wished he had something to rub his cock against. He was way harder than last time. Maybe because he could really feel the heat of that hand through the thin material.

A finger slid down his crack, rubbing when it found his hole. Peter moaned, biting the inside of his cheek in panic. He got a quick glance from the woman beside him, but she didn't bother to investigate.

When he rocked his hips against the finger, the man behind him must have realized that Peter was not an unwilling participant. He pressed closer to Peter's back until he could feel the heat of his hand. The smell of Barbasol filled his nose. He was gonna have to buy a can and start jerking off with the stuff.

The finger pushed, the tip of it slipped inside him. Peter's eyes went wide. He clamped a hand over his dick trying not to cum. He felt a breathy little laugh against his ear.

The hand withdrew and Peter let out a breath. He loved being touched, but he really didn't want to cum in his shorts. Yet, when the old man touched him again, he just spread his legs. He pulled Peter's shorts to one side and pushed his finger all the way in. It was slick, probably with spit, and it felt so fucking good. The finger pumped in and out. Then another pushed in.

Peter looked around him at all of the half-awake faces. No one knew that he was standing there, getting fingered, while they all dreamed of their morning coffees.

He felt the stubbly brush of a beard and chapped lips kissed the back of his neck. Peter bit down on the side of his hand, wishing he could scream, and he came in his shorts. The material was so thin that it leaked through, making a nasty stain. The man gave him another kiss, then left him alone. Peter covered the mess with his hand, face burning with embarrassment as he ran to the nearest shop to buy himself some new pants.

It became a regular thing. Peter started packing a change of clothes in a little drawstring bad. He kept wearing the tiny, thin, shorts and a thin t-shirt, every time he got on the subway. Hands touched and groped, usually staying on the out side of his shorts. Sometimes they didn't though and those were his favorite times.

This guy was feeling him up good, squeezing his ass cheeks to hard it might bruise. Then his hands went around to his front to palm his cock. Peter spread his legs and tried not to die on the spot because he was in fucking heaven. Then a second hand appeared, risky on a train. It slid up his abdomen and found his chest. Through his shirt then man rubbed his nipples. Peter could feel his hot, pervy, breath on his neck. He pressed his ass back, biting his lip when he felt his hard cock. He gave as good as he got, rubbing his ass against the man while he rubbed his cock and his nipples. When he pinched then hard, Peter thought he might faint. This couldn't be happening because it felt so fucking good.

Then the old man took the hand off his cock. Peter was disappointed for a moment only to stand shocked as he felt what was definitely a dick, rubbing against his ass. He rubbed it all over Peter's shorts, then slipped it between his legs, rubbing against his hole and his balls. Peter rocked his hips. He wanted him to cum on his thighs so bad. He squeezed them together, giving him something to fuck.

One hand held his hip while the other kept playing with his nipples. The old man slowly fucked his thighs. Peter felt him shake as he came, splattering mess all over his skin. He didn't play with his cock any more after that, just his nipples, leaving him hard and desperate when they left the train. Peter ran to the bathroom and jerked off in the stall using the stranger's cum for lube.

He had developed such a Pavlovian response to gray haired old men that even working in the lab was driving him insane. He's catch the subway, get so deliciously groped, change his clothes, and then turn up at SI only to rinse and repeat as he saw Tony.

If the man suspected anything, he said nothing, but he had to be aware of Peter's permanently red cheeks and how some days he came in with his nipples all hard under his shirt. There was one man who liked to play with them until they were raw and they ended up hard and sore all day. One time he forgot to change his shorts and he ended up sitting cum all day. He wondered if Tony could smell it.

He was always day dreaming about him. What Tony was one of the old men? What if he caught the subway one say and slipped in behind Peter and couldn't keep his hands to himself? That would be incredible. There was no way, though. Tony wasn't a pervert and he understood concepts like consent and personal boundaries. The problem was that Peter desperately wanted him to violate him.

Horny brains do horny things, though. Which meant that Peter was finding it increasingly difficult to remain professional. Especially on the days when he didn't cum. He had gone from gushing compliments to outright flirting. Flirting which was taking a very obvious and pointed turn.

"Have I mentioned that I love your hair?" Peter said one day.

Tony ran a hand through it. "It's getting pretty gray, huh? Bout time I had it dyed."

"No, I mean it. I think it's sexy."

"Sexy?"

"Yeah. You're kind of a silver fox."

"We'll I wasn't named Sexiest Man of the Year seven times for nothing." Tony winked at him.

Sometimes Peter caught himself staring. Especially when Tony got hands on, working in a tank-top with bend metal into shape. When Tony called him out, he panicked.

"Take a picture, kid," he teased.

"Uh, sorry. It's just uh..." he swallowed. "Your arms- I mean I- you're really strong Mr. Stark."

"All hard work, baby." He grinned.

Peter turned away and made himself look at something else. He couldn't be that oblivious could he? Not that Peter wanted Tony to know that he was hot for him. It would make things awkward.

Then came the day that Peter forgot to change his shorts when he really, really, needed to. Not only had he cum so hard that it had leaked through and there was cum very visible on the fabric, but there was a hand print on his ass from a guy smacking him as hard he could. A couple of people turned around at that one, but Peter had gotten good at hiding his reactions and no one said anything.

Tony looked him over, hands tucked in his pockets. Peter held eye contact only due to becoming a deer in the head lights and feeling physically unable to move as he realized why Tony was looking at him like that.

"What's up, Pete?" Tony popped his lips. Was he angry? He looked kind of angry.

"I uh... what's up with what, Mr. Stark?"

The look he got at that was even worse. "You keep coming in here, looking like sex, stinking like it too, and it's fine. I get it. Your in your twenties. You're young and horny and that's great, but we need to set a boundary here because you're making me insane."

Peter stared. "I'm making you insane?"

"Yeah. I don't know what orgy your going to that happens at six am every morning, but I do recommend reigning it in."

"Uh..."

"I was a party boy so I have no right to nag, but at least tell me you're getting tested."

The look he was getting was such an odd mixture of pain and concern that Peter couldn't help it when he blurted out, "I've been letting old men touch me on the subway-"

Tony blinked. Rapidly. "You... I'm sorry, you're doing what?"

"It wasn't my fault the first time," he babbled, trying to explain. "It was just really hot out and I was wearing short shorts and this guy started feeling me up, but I really liked it so I bought even shorter thinner shorts and now every morning a different guy touches me and sometimes I cum in my shorts and I make a mess and I usually change before I come inside- I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark."

There was silence for a moment. "Oh. Alright. That sounds-"

Peter's eyes stung with tears, but he kept rambling. "Bad. I know. Someone assaulted me on a train and I liked it because I'm sick and I'm horny for old men and I think I'm gonna throw up now."

He bolted, running for the bathroom. When he got there he heaved, but nothing came up. He sat on the floor, crying his eyes out. Obviously Mr. Stark would think he was gross or insane. Obviously that was the stupidest thing he had ever done and he could never take the subway again.

The bathroom door pushed slowly open. "Pete? You okay?"

Peter sniffled. "I'm fine. You don't have to come in here."

"Yeah, I do." Tony walked in and crouched beside him. He waited until Peter peeked at him from behind his knees. "There's nothing wrong with you. Yeah, its not good that people are touching you without asking first, but there's nothing wrong with you for liking it."

"Really?"

"Really. Come on. Let me make you a drink."

"It's like seven am."

"Sometimes you gotta day drink, kid."

They sat together while Peter sipped something strong and Tony had a coffee. They didn't say much or really anything. Once Peter was calm, it was like the whole thing had never happened. He went and changed his clothes and they got to work same as always.

Then the next morning, Peter got on the train. The first thing he noticed was a familiar cologne. The scent had his toes curling already. It must have been one of his regulars behind him. He closed his eyes, already excited as a hand palmed his ass. They felt him up good, with greedy handfuls, like they owned his ass. Peter pushed back for more. The hand slid down, feeling his thighs, then up to his chest to tease his nipples. A beard scraped his neck.

"Is this what you like?" Tony whispered in his ear. Peter froze. What was Tony doing here? Why was he touching him? Was he making fun of him?

"Don't worry, baby boy. I get it now. This is why you've been flirting. You wanted me to be the one touching you, hm? Is that it?"

Peter nodded.

"Dirty boy. I'm old enough to be your father."

Peter shivered. He looked around, but no one seemed to be listening.

Mr. Stark didn't have the same reservations the others did. He grabbed Peter's arm and forced the crowd to move aside so they could stand by the door. Peter faced out toward the full train while Tony was behind him. His hands rubbed his cock and palmed his ass. Peter's legs shook and he pressed kisses to his neck. He gasped as Tony's cock slipped between his legs.

"You feel that, baby? That's what you did to me. With your tiny little shorts." He grabbed the back of them and pulled them up so his ass was out and the material was tight against his cock.

"Your old men every put it inside you?"

Peter shook his head. "Well I'm going to." He whimpered.

"You want that don't you?"

Peter nodded. He squeaked, biting down on his lip when Tony pinched his nipple. "You gotta promise me something."

Peter nodded again. He'd do anything for Mr. Stark already, but now he was offering his cock for it. Nothing was off limits.

"No more strange old men. You want an old man to touch you then you call me, got it?"

Peter nodded his head. "Tell me, baby."

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Good boy."

His cock was slick with lube when it pressed against his hole. Peter pushed up on his toes and Tony pulled him back on it. It felt so big, forcing its way inside. Peter trembled, barely standing on his own. He couldn't help it when his body started to move, rolling his hips to fuck himself deeper.

"That's it, baby, good boy," Mr. Stark purred. "I'm gonna fill your little hole and you're not gonna change your shorts. Do you hear me?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That's right. Your gonna let my cum drip out all over you. Let it dry on your skin. Your gonna be my nasty little cum dumpster today. You deserve it for not coming to me first. You let those other men touch you. But you're all mine now right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy. Keep grinding on my dick. Make yourself cum in your little shorts like a dirty little boy."

Peter gripped the bar in front of him. He closed his eyes and hoped no one was looking at him. Tony fucked him slowly, barely moving, but it was enough. Getting fucked by an old man on the subway, even if that old man was someone he knew, was way too fucking hot. Tony's hand slipped down over the front of his shorts and Peter's eyes went wide. His hands clasped over his mouth. He groaned low in his throat trying to hold it in. The guy in front of his gave him an odd look, but decided to mind his own business.

"Good boy," Tony purred. Peter shivered all the way down to his toes. "Squeeze my cock, baby. Milk it."

Peter chewed his lip and his did his best to obey. Tony's stubble burned his skin as he ran his lips along the side of his neck. Didn't make a sound, but he gripped Peter tight as he came. Peter felt wet inside as he pulled out. They fixed their clothes and stood waiting for the train to stop.

The next day, there was a car out front of his apartment. No more subway. Just Tony, feeling him up and making him cum in his pants as they rolled through the busy morning traffic.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Complete 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment, general hatred, allusions to death, toyplay, binding/restraint, whipping.

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: Think we got one chapter left after this one but don’t worry, we will eventually have more Birch beyond that.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Wait and you'll see

💀💀💀

Your ankle bent for the fifth time as you entered the small county hospital. Loki kept his hand covertly on your elbow after you jabbed him several times in the ribs on the drive over and noticed the way your eyes searched around. You couldn’t help it. Even if Jerome’s life was in the balance, you wanted nothing more than to be away from this man; if you could call him one.

The halls were sterile and the bright lights added to the sting in your eyes as you were shown to your brother’s room. A motorcycle accident, the nurse said, but Jerome’s bike was destroyed with everything else in your shop. You knew what happened was far from an accident.

His eyes were closed and tubes ran down his arms and across his face. It was a sobering sight. It reminded you of your father’s last months. You dreaded seeing anyone like that ever again. Even if Jerome was a cowardly weasel, even if he let those men trade you like livestock, he was still your kin and he was all you had left of your father.

You wiggled away from Loki and he let you as he pinched you in warning. You went to Jerome’s bedside and glanced over at your escorts. Korg actually showed an ounce of empathy as he stared at the bed.

“Can I have some privacy?” you snarled.

“We’ll be right outside. Don’t think of trying anything,” Loki reproached.

“I just want to be alone with my brother,” you curled your lip, “not everything is about you.”

You waited until you stepped out and you leaned on the bed rail. He looked so frail just laying there with machines pumping life into him. The nurse said he might wake up but they were still waiting. The only good news she had was that the surgery on his spine was successful.

“I don’t forgive you,” you whispered, “I never will but I love you.”

Your eyes pricked and you rolled them to force away the tears. The machines beeped and fanned. You shook your head and gave a grim smile.

“I want to ask how we got here but we know. We knew life would be like this. Daddy said it would. He knew you were gonna be a club man like him and he told you to hold onto your soul. He’d be so disappointed.” You sighed, “Do you know what that man is doing to me? What he’s gonna do?”

You looked away and huffed. You were angry, hurt, but not broken. Not yet.

“I can’t stop him, I know that,” you confessed quietly as you reached for his hand, “I was stupid to think I was different from those other girls. To think I’m above them. No, these men are all the same and we just gotta deal with it.”

You swallowed and pushed yourself up.

“Yeah, yeah, we know what happened to mama. Same thing’ll happen to me now,” you said, “and you’re gonna go see daddy. I hope he’s at peace, I hope you find that too.”

You turned and wiped your wet eyes. You wouldn’t let Loki see you cry. He wouldn’t have that pleasure. You would play along until you could act. You would pretend that you believed Jerome would live. You would fake, you would take, you would survive.

💀

The car ride was silent as you stared out the window. You were quiet, still. Even as Loki’s fingers wandered to your skirt and played with the fabric, you did nothing. You were tired and fighting wasn’t doing nothing but draining your energy. You leaned back and played with the button of the jacket. The clothes were entirely impractical against the winter.

The main road of Birch passed outside your window and Korg drove by the sidestreet where the Victorian house stood. You saw the moniker with Cleopatra and you didn’t need to ask where you were going. You didn’t even wonder why. You knew.

“You think you can behave?” Loki asked, “for your brother’s sake?”

You turned to him and resisted a snarl. You nodded and tensed as he squeezed your leg.

“Darling, I mean it. You go in there and you show the boys how tame you can be,” he smirked, “show off your new clothes.”

“I got it,” you said through gritted teeth, “but you touch my brother again and I will never stop. I won’t stop until you kill me too.”

He raised his head in triumph and flicked your chin with his finger, “we have an understanding, don’t we, darling?”

You turned and reached for the handle. He let you and followed you out smoothly. He was quick to hook his arm around your waist as Korg led the way to the bar and opened the door ahead of you. You entered and focused on keeping one foot in front of the other as your instinct told you to throttle the man at your side.

Your breath caught in your throat as your vision cleared. Steve sat with his girl and Bucky with that waitress he was fucking. You saw in her eye a feeling you knew well. Her and the mousy one shared that brittle complacency. Your sights narrowed at Bucky as you got closer and time seemed to slow.

When you reached the table, Bucky looked over and stood. He smiled between you and Loki, the amusement plain on his face. You felt the flicker inside of you. You couldn’t hold back as you slipped quickly from Loki’s grasp and around the side of the table. You latched onto the front of his jacket. You hit him across the jaw with your fist and were ready to lay another as someone caught your fist.

The voices rose around you as you kicked out and caught him in the stomach as you were wrenched away. You looked up as you growled a slew of curses and found Steve and Loki both clinging to your arms. You continued to flail.

“You fucking piece of shit,” you grunted, “I swear to fucking God, I’m going to end you!”

“What did I say?” Loki hissed as they tried to rein you in.

Bucky was just as fast as he approached you and drew his gun. You didn’t still even as he aimed the muzzle at you and stared down the barrel. 

“She’s fucking rabid,” Steve uttered, “Christ.”

“Do it, you fucking bastard!” You spat.

There were no thoughts, no fears, only pure rage as you stomped your feet and tried to wriggle free. You glared back at Bucky as the gun hung before him. He exhaled loudly and put it away.

“You gotta put a leash on that bitch,” Bucky said, “I told you it wasn’t going to be easy.”

“Darling,” Loki said as you yanked against his hold, “that’s enough. Surely you didn’t forget so quickly that yours is not the only life in the balance.”

You looked over at him and blinked. You unballed your hands and stilled. You were stiff as the anger tensed your entire body but you tamped it down with effort. The men slowly released you. You peered around as you seethed, the two women at the table watched you in shock but beneath, you saw intrigue.

You raised your hands in surrender and looked at Bucky. Your jaw locked but you forced the words out. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” he raised his brows as his own anger receded, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” you enunciated, “alright?”

He laughed and looked you up and down dramatically, “didn’t think you’d get this far,” he said to Loki, “she looks like a woman.”

It took everything you had not to try again. You backed away as Loki removed his jacket and you mirrored him. He pulled out a chair and pointed you down with sneer. He sat beside you and rolled his shoulders as he fixed his blazer.

“Apologies for our lateness, we did have to make a detour,” he said, “I promise, I will keep her in line for the rest of the night.”

Bucky poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth, “you better,” he grinned.

You looked to your lap and unbent your fingers as your nails dug into your palm. You peeked around and caught the eye of Bucky’s girl and for a moment you just stared back. She was pensive and tilted her head before she looked away. You might not be entirely alone.

💀

“I am unimpressed with that scene,” Loki hissed as Korg clung to your arm and angled you up the stairs ahead of them, “but I will give you a choice. Do I punish you or your brother?”

You reached the top and turned down the hallway. You entered the bedroom without resistance as the burly toady kept his grasp on you. You turned with him and watched Loki enter.

“I’m sorry, really. I deserve… punishment. Not him,” you said stiffly as you swallowed. The words were like bile in your throat.

“Oh, darling, that is the smartest thing I’ve heard you say,” he slithered, “Korg, get her clothes off.”

You blinked and looked up at Korg. He returned your gaze doubtfully and glanced back at Loki.

“Sir?” he asked.

“You heard me,” Loki said as he went over the chest of drawers and pulled the top one out, “get her naked and put her on the bed.”

“I can do it myself--”

“No, Korg, do as I say and hold her down,” he turned as he held some leather straps and you scrunched your nose as you tried to decipher all the crisscrossing.

“Sir, I--”

“You know I don’t like to repeat myself and I’ve already done so once,” he snapped, “so do it.”

Korg let you go and you bent quickly to undo your boots. He watched you take them off and you put your back to him, “the zipper,” you said quietly. He pushed it down and you held your arms straight as he tugged the sleeves past your wrists. He jerked you unintentionally as the dress gather at your waist and apologized.

You steeled yourself and stepped out of the fabric as it fell to your ankles. It felt like giving up but it was the only way. It was a means to an end. You bit down as Korg fumbled with your bra and stuttered. You reached back to help him and the cleared his throat.

“Hurry up, you fool,” Loki growled.

Korg hesitated as he pushed down your stockings one at a time and then slipped your panties off your hips. He stood and gripped your arm, lighter than before. You let him move you to the bed and Loki stopped him.

“Raise your foot, darling,” he bent and opened the leather straps. 

You obeyed and he nodded to the other. You lifted your other foot and put it back down. He pulled it up your legs and zipped the harness up to your waist. The leather straps wounded around your pelvis and thighs but offered no cover, just a strap along your cunt. 

“Put her arms back,” Loki demanded as he rose and came around you. He pointed behind you and your wrists were buckled into the cuffs attached to the thickest strap on the harness, your arms bound behind you. “Very good, now on the bed… face down.”

Korg gently guided you down and you wiggled onto the mattress. Loki dismissed him curtly and the door closed, marking a stolid silence. You kept your face away from Loki and tested the resistance of the harness. Even if you could get free, you wouldn’t get far.

“What is the matter, darling?” he taunted as you heard the rustle of fabric.

“You know, trying not to wretch at the thought of you touching me,” you snipped.

“Oh, is that what you think your punishment is?” he mused and the air was cut with the bite of leather before it lashed across your ass, “you’ll be begging for my touch when I’m through.”

You held your breath as he laid another strike and another and your body jostled on the bed with each. You knotted your fingers and every muscle in your body was rigid. You felt the welts rising on your skin but you focused on the pain. It kept you from crying, from thinking. It kept the humiliation from drowning you.

Was it worth it? Could you live with the shame when it was over?”

He stopped as you panted shallowly. He snickered and you heard him moving around again. He tutted and the mattress dipped as he pushed your legs apart. He pulled on the strap along your cunt and slid a smooth, slightly curved object between it and your skin. He tightened the buckle at the back of the harness so that the silicon was snug to your clit.

He poked his finger along it and it began to vibrate. You sucked in your breath as your body responded to the pulsing. He retreated off the bed and you pushed your legs together. That only made the sensation more intense and you tugged desperately at the cuffs as you rolled onto your side.

“It said about twelve hours battery if kept on low,” he said, “just enough to keep you awake but not enough to do much else.”

You bared your teeth as your eyes threatened to roll back and growled. Your feet arched as you bent your legs slightly and tied to shift the vibrator. You crushed your hands as you wiggled onto your back and dug your heels into the mattress.

“I am patient, darling, you’ve helped in that,” he taunted, “but oh, it is worth the wait to see you squirm.”

“Oh, you prick, why don’t you just… get it… over with?” your breaths caught as the toy buzzed against you.

“Where is the fun in that?” he ran his hand down your thigh and you flinched, “and you kept me waiting long enough. You will know the same pain.”

“I fucking hate you,” you sneered as you rocked back and forth and pushed your head back into the bed.

“I know,” he said gleefully, “it makes it all the better.”

[bratkook]

corrupt. jjk (m)

You’d be crying out in pain begging me to play my games. I could corrupt you, it would be ugly.

pairing: vampire!jk x human!reader genre: smut, pwp warnings: blood play, unprotected sex, dirty talk, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, spanking, oral (f. receiving), partially clothed sex word count: 5k author’s note: literally everything i write is based on a song so listen to Corrupt by Depeche Mode. This also came to mind because my boss and i are obsessed with the idea of going to a sex club in berlin so i hope you enjoy lol. leave feedback or shoot me a message tysm ily bye. this also isnt edited yet im sorry

Standing in the middle of a dimly lit club in the heart of Berlin, the sound of a german band filling up the space all around you, is not how you thought your night would go.

Utterly alone, shimmying through the crowd of people all scantily clad in forms of leather or lace, some wearing nothing at all. No one seemed to mind you, no one gave you a second glance. The leather body harness you had on stuck to your body like second skin, the straps of it stretched across your breasts and covered your nipples. The only thing on your bottom half was a garter belt, a tiny pair of black underwear and fishnet stockings, finished off with some black heels.

You had begged your friend to come with you, being in the middle of your trip across Europe you wanted to visit the infamous sex club while in Berlin but she had been so against it. Not only was this club notorious for having orgies in the middle of the venue, which she thought was unspeakable, it was also a common hot spot for vampires as well, another taboo for her.

When she told you no you knew it was final so you didn’t mention it again. Instead you got dressed up in the bathroom of your airbnb, draped on a peacoat and headed out without a word. Luckily the club had coat check or else you’d feel entirely over dressed.

This club, unlike other vampire friendly ones you’ve visited, let everyone mingle together. You were accustomed to having dedicated rooms for humans, another for vampires, and a common ground for those who didn’t mind being together. But here it was a giant melting pot of both.

In the short ten minutes you’ve been here you had lost count of how many scarlet eyes you’d seen staring down at you, how many touches of cold skin you’d felt as you slipped by people, you felt very outnumbered and a little vulnerable but it sent a spark of excitement down your spine.

When you reach the bar, your arms press against the slightly tacky surface, a blonde with gleaming golden eyes greets you with a smile, “What’ll you have sweet heart?”

You strain your ears to hear her but try your best to tell her you’d just like a shot of tequila, she has no problem hearing your request, spinning around to grab the tequila from behind her.

Just as you start to ease up to being where you are, the feeling of someone slipping in beside you has you tensing up again. You keep your gaze on the bartender, watching her pour out your shot before sliding it over.

When you reach into the hem of your tights to pull out some cash she waves you off, “Its your first time here, consider it a welcoming gift.” She winks at you and moves on to the next thirsty guest before you can thank her.

You can sense the eyes boring into you from your right, your fingers gripping the edge of the shot glass as you lift it up to your lips. The curious observer just watches with a smirk as you throw back the shot, shutting your eyes as the warm liquid runs down your throat.

When you set the glass down and lick your lips over they finally speak, “First timer huh?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at his voice, the low gravel of it swimming through your ears and getting your full attention. Its melodic, something about it has you turning to him like he had just said something ground breaking, and when you see who the voice belongs to you let out a small shudder.

The dark red of his eyes seems to glow in between the random flashes of light, his eyebrow arched up in curiosity as you drink him in. The hair on his head, parted to the side and showing the sharp eyebrows that frame his eyes, is an inky shade, the tips of the strands landing on his forehead.

He lets you take your time, watching you make your way down his face, reaching his soft lips, parted in a half smile that showcased the sharp fangs where your incisors are. The action should be threatening but all you can think of is having them sink into your skin.

The way he’s dressed is more modest than others, a sheer black mesh shirt hugging his chest, showing off the indents of muscles from how tight the material was. A harness similar to your own sits snuggly against his waist, the leather material matching that of his pants.

You snap out of it when you realize you’ve been staring at his crotch for more than seemed appropriate. Humor is written all over his face when you meet his gaze once more, remembering that the beautiful stranger had in fact asked you a question.

“Yeah, that obvious?”

He just chuckles, leaning against the bar top as well, “You just look a little intimidated is all. What is it, the vampires or the fucking in public?”

You push the shot glass further away from you, “Neither, I’ve had my fair share of vampires and if fucking in public scared me I wouldn’t be here.” Your words have piqued his interest, “Just first time jitters.”

He nods in understanding, “Fair, lets do some ice breakers then, I’ll start.” He clears his throat and inches closer to you, his shoulder nudging against yours, “My name is Jungkook, I’m technically 24, I enjoy making short films and I really want to fuck you.”

The small gasp you let out is clearly picked up by his ears, the smirk returning on his face at your reaction, “Oh wow,” you let out a giggle and he’s enamored by it, “well, my names Y/N, I’m 25, I enjoy baking and I really want to fuck you too.”

Jungkook hums, his tongue running along his teeth, “That can be arranged you know.”

You take a glance behind him, taking in the entirety of the club in the flashes of light. Almost every surface had a couple, at least, in the act of fucking each other in one form or another. In the middle of it all were the people who just came for the atmosphere, dancing along to the music playing as if ten feet away someone wasn’t getting fucked in the ass.

“Where?” You ask shyly, this was after all your first time at a club like this. The rules of dibs regarding location was foreign to you, not knowing what was off limits or not but Jungkook seemed to be very familiar with the club.

“Lets ease you into it yeah?” He murmurs out, his cold hand gently grasping yours and tugging you behind him as he slides through people without a care. The crowd seemed to split for him, humans and vampires alike staring him down but he paid them no mind as he crossed the floor.

The further you walked the more the crowd dispersed until you reached a hallway, the maroon walls were lined up with fetish photos, portraits of girls wrapped up in shibari, men wearing gimp masks along with shadow boxes holding various sex toys. In between each one were open doors, the rooms having a bed in the middle of them with lovers on top, the sounds of pleasure spilling out of the rooms and into the hallway.

Jungkook continued to lead you down the hallway, reaching a room he knows will be unoccupied. It was his room, no one ever used it but him, it was almost like an unspoken rule that it belonged to him so when you rounded the corner and stepped into it, the fact that i was completely untouched didn’t surprise him.

The bed was right in the middle, dimly illuminated by two sconces on the wall behind it. The black silk sheets look inviting, the large gold bed frame drawing you forward until your palms rested on the mattress, your fingers rubbing the soft material.

“I didn’t know places like this had beds.”

Jungkook steps behind you, his hands grasping your hips gently and pulling you back into him, “Mm, theres also a pool in the basement but I can show you that later.” He dips his head down, nuzzling his nose into the juncture of your neck and inhaling when the scent of you invades his senses.

He could hear the pounding of your heart, the blood pulsing through your veins in excitement. Jungkook knew you weren’t scared, you had waves of eagerness rolling off of you. The rythm of your heart wasn’t one of fear and as much as he used to love playing with his meals, knowing he didn’t have to sweet talk you into calming down made this more enjoyable.

“Yeah, later–laters good.” Your eyes flutter shut when his lips touch your skin, gently trailing up your neck and reaching your jaw. One of the hands that was on your hips came up to cup your cheeks, yanking your head around to crash his lips against yours.

The lingering remains of the tequila you had thrown back makes its way into his mouth when his tongue meets yours as he licks his way inside. Slowly you fully turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck and forcing him closer to you as your tongues tangled together messily.

Jungkook makes quick work at unclasping the harness you had on, his fingers coming together on your back and undoing the metal hooks until the fabric sagged off of your body. His lips never leave yours as you drop your arms, letting the leather material hit the floor.

When his hands come up to grasp your tits you pause kissing him, the icyness of his palm making your nipples pebble and he just smirks, almost as if he knows that you’re thinking of how his cold hands would feel inside your cunt.

“Such a pretty little human.” He mumbles out when he pulls back and stares at your exposed chest, his fingers twisting your nipple.

“Please,” you groan out, leaning forward to reattach your lips but he inches back to tease you, a playful smile on his face. “you said you wanted to fuck me.”

He relases your nipple, his hands now coming to undo his own harness, the garment joining yours on the floor but with it comes the mesh shirt. Inch by inch his smooth skin comes into view, the muscles on his stomach rippling as he peels it off and tosses it without a care.

“I do want to fuck you, so badly.” His head tilts slightly at you, watching you standing by the bed with your arms by your side and a pout on your face. “I like taking my time though baby, can you be patient for me.”

He hears the small intake of breath you make, nodding your head immediately. Patient? Yeah you could be patient for him, you could be anything for him. Its like his voice had you in a trance, any request he had could be fulfilled without a problem.

Jungkook reaches for you once more, his lips melting against yours while his hands guide your hips backwards, helping you onto the bed and pushing you back with ease. He slowly pushes you back until you’re fullt resting on the mattress, your hair splayed out around you with him hovering above you, his knees on either side of your thighs.

Your lips smack together for a moment, Jungkook gently nipping your bottom lip enough to draw a small bead of blood. When his tongue laps it up he moans into your mouth, the coppery taste mixed in with a hint of sweetness has his cock twitching. A small taste of whats to come, it takes him all the restraint he has to stop himself from devouring you here and now.

“Tastes,” kiss “so,” kiss “sweet.” He groans out in between kisses, pressing against you harder before trailing his lips down your body. You lay there with your chest heaving, your mind spinning when you feel the wetness of his lips kissing down your chest.

He envelopes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking around it with a moan, his other hand coming up to knead the flesh of your neglected breast and you gasp at the feeling, your back arching into his touch.

Your brain forcing your limbs to come into action now, your hand slipping into his hair and pushing him closer to you. The sensation of your fingers yanking his strands urges him on, sucking on your nipple while looking up at you, your eyes blown out in the darkness of the room, the bright red of his making him look predatory.

He pulls back with a wet smack, looking down at your saliva coated flesh and humming to himself while his hand continues to twist your other nipple. “So sensitive.” He comments when you whine at a particular hard tug he gives you, your head falling back with a sigh.

“Jungkook please.”

He relents, releasing your nipple and continuing his quest down your body, you’re expecting him to tug down your tights, maybe undo the garter belt before taking it all off but instead his fingers hook into the holes in the tighs around your crotch and yank hard. The sound of the fabric ripping has you lifting your head back up, catching him in the act of tearing your tights apart until your black panties were fully exposed to him.

Jungkook had slid off the bed, kneeling in front of you, his arms hooking under your thighs to drag you forward a bit, a smile spreading across his face when you let out a small shriek of surprise. The heels of your shoes rest on his back, your thighs sitting snuggly on his shoulders.

You can feel his breath against your skin, his lips hovering over the flesh of your inner thighs, his fingers digging into you as he licks his lips over. The anticipation is killing you, forcing yourself to drop your head back down because watching him stare at you like that was filling your stomach with nerves.

The soft flick of his tongue on your inner thigh has you tensing up, your hands reaching down to grasp his own, your warm fingers curling around his while they wrapped around your legs. Jungkook trails soft kisses on your skin, taking his time sucking and biting around your panties, his tongue gently flicking over your clit, a teasing motion that you barely feel through the material of your underwear.

He chuckles when your hands clutch his with annoyance, you had told him you could be patient but you were really doubting yourself now. Maybe fucking him out in the open of the club would’ve given you satisfaction a lot quicker.

Just as you’re about to voice your frustration, Jungkook pulls a hand away from your thigh, hooking his finger on the edge of your panties and yanking them to the side. Your glistening core shines back on him, his mouth salivating at getting a taste of you, wondering if your cunt was as sweet as your blood.

“Fuck.” You gasp when he licks a broad stripe up your slit, his tongue gathering your wetness in a practice move, a satisfied moan leaving his mouth at the taste. Everything he had said about taking his time was out the window now, diving into you shamelessly.

He growls when your hand comes back to tangle into his hair, the slight burn of his scalp causing him to eat you with more determination. His lips wrap around your clit, slurping and sucking gently enough to have you whimpering, your back arching up into him at the feeling.

Jungkook smirks when he releases your clit, nosing against it while his fingers circle your entrance, slipping in without resistance. The dirty thought that had crossed your mind before had been proven correct, Jungkook’s long icy fingers felt amazing inside your heat, spreading you open as if they were meant to be there. When he adds a second one, scissoring inside of you to stretch you out, a moan dies in your throat when you choke out, his lips come back to your center in a frenzy.

You can feel every ridge of his finger inside of you, grazing the bundle of nerves each time they thrust out, coupled with the way he’s sucking on your clit its not a shock that you’re quivering on the bed. 

“So fucking wet.” He awes for a second, the tug on his scalp letting him know you needed him to go back to what he was doing. A gush of wetness escapes you, dripping down his palm and onto the floor and he hums, he can hear the pounding in your veins increase in speed, the fluttering of your heart sounding like music to his ears.

“C-close,” you keen out, your heels digging into him and bringing him closer, “fuck, bite me. Please bite me.”

Thats all Jungkook needed to hear, his fingers slip out of you to replace his mouth, quickly circling your clit to have you hurdling over the edge. You can feel the pressure building in your abdomen, the controlled flicks of his fingers have you whining out.

Just as you’re about to teeter over Jungkook dips down and kisses your inner thigh once more, opening his mouth to clamp over your skin. In a flash his fangs pierce your flesh, a brief feeling of searing pain shoots up your body before being replaced by intense pleasure when he fully latches on, lips suckling on your skin.

The rich liquid pours into his mouth, the same coppery sweet taste he had sampled earlier is increased with the pleasure you feel. Jungkook’s eyes roll back at the flavor, his fingers not letting up on your clit even with the choked gasp of his name as you reach your orgasm. 

Your body trembles underneath him, your hands grip on his hair loosening up as he quenches his thirst. Everything feels tingly, each nerve ending on your body being lit up from the intense orgasm you just experienced. When he pulls away from your thigh, traces of blood spilling around his mouth he moans, nuzzling his way back to your center, gently licking the remnants of your orgasm off of you, enjoying how you whimper on the bed.

“So good.” He rasps out, his eyes flicking up to look at you and you gasp at how much brighter they are, a ruby red sparkling in the dark of the room, his eyebrow cocked up as he trails his way back up your body, letting your legs fall from his shoulders and back onto the bed.

His leather clad legs press against you, the feeling of his hardened bulge against your hip has you shuddering. “I’m not done with you yet, I’m going to ruin you baby.” He kisses up your chest, his eyes never leaving yours. The fucked out look on your face makes him rut against you, “You sure you want this?”

Your arms wrap around his torso, nails digging into his back as you rut up into him. His head drops down onto your neck when you grind against him, your wetness smearing along the leather. “I need it, ruin me Jungkook.”

The hiss he lets out has your toes curling, moreso when his mouth kisses along your neck, a teasing nip of his teeth on your skin, “Oh I will.”

Jungkook reaches down with one hand to unbotton his jeans, tugging them down enough for his cock to slip free. You don’t get a chance to look it over, the size of it being a total suprise to you since his lips were no on yours again, your eyes slipping shut as they worked together, teeth knocking into each other in a hurry.

He wraps a hand around himself, sighing into your mouth as he gives himself a pump. “Jungkook.” You groan into his mouth, wiggling your hips around as he positions himself between your thighs. He nudges your thighs further apart, your heels resting on the edge of the bed while his knees sink into the mattress.

“I know baby.” He mumbles against your lips, pressing another kiss to them. Thats when you feel the tip of his cock pressing against you, a slow rut of his hips following as he coats his length in your arousal.

Your nails dig into his back once more, the silk sheets gliding against your skin when you arch your back to get some sort of friction from him.

Jungkooks eyes are glued to where you meet, watching in admiration when he tugs your underwear to the side and eases himself into you, his cock sinking into your heat slowly. The feeling of him stretching you open has you moaning out loud, your head thrown back and exposing your neck to him.

“Fuck baby, you’re taking me so well.”

The stretch feels almost impossible for a second, you hadn’t seen his length but the feeling of it alone made it obvious that he was the biggest you’d ever had. When he bottoms out, his hips resting flush against your ass you whimper out.

“Feel so full.” You slur, humming softly when he kisses your cheek tenderly.

Jungkook just chuckles, “Gonna fuck you stupid.” Thats the only warning he gives you before inching back, rolling into you over and over until you’re adjusted to his size.

You knew after today you’d be ruined, you’d slept with your fair share of vampires but the way Jungkook’s cock split you open, pistoning into you in the most delicious way, you were done for.

The feeling of your nails digging in his back had him hissing, his arms caging you in underneath him. His eyes were focused on the way your breasts jiggled at every thrust, your body jostling upwards from the strength of them. Your face was screwed up in pleasure, your mouth dropped open as moans spilled out through your lips.

Jungkook was fucking you well and truly stupid, you looked lost in your pleasure, your walls fluttering around his length when he hit your sweet spot.

“Fuck,” you mewl, “so big. So–“ a gasp cuts you off when he speeds up his thrusts, the skin of his thighs smacking against yours with new found energy.

“Where’d those first time jitters go?” He wonders, one hand coming up to softly trail down your face, inching down until theyre placed around your neck, his fingers feeling the ferocious pulsing from your jugular.

“Such a fearless little human.” He grunts out with a groan, “Letting me do what I want with you, do you have any idea what I could do to you?”

A whimper leaves your mouth, your hips coming up to rut in time against his. You knew what he could do to you, if he really wanted to he could rip out your throat and drink you dry. Maybe it was the masochist inside of you, the idea of not knowing what could actually happen, of not being in control of the situation, that kept you going.

“I don’t care.”

That has a curious smile spreading across his face, “No? All you care about is my cock huh?”

You’re nodding immediately, yes his cock is all you care about. The way its stretching you open, the length of it hitting places inside of you without even trying. He fucked you like it was second nature to him, his thrusts being well timed, as if he knew the right way to get you falling apart underneath him.

“Can I–“ you press your palms against his chest lightly, the smal act of resistence causing him to still completely. He watches on curiously when you shimmy out from under him, your knees knocking into his as you turn over onto the bed on your hands and knees.

You’re facing the door now, seeing the flashes of light and the occasional person walking by the door and you briefly remember where you are. Jungkook watches you wiggle your hips at him, your fishnets stretched tightly over your ass.

“So fucking sexy.” He steps off of the bed, taking the time now to fully slip out of his pants, kicking them off and onto the floor before kneeling back onto the bed. His hands grasp your ass, kneading the flesh of them as he settles behind you, his palm coming up to land with a loud smack onto your skin. The sound mixing in with the thrumming bass of the club music and the moan you let out.

“C’mon, fuck me stupid.” You tease, dropping onto your elbows and spreading your thighs apart as you arch your back.

“Mm, careful what you ask for baby.”

His large palm splays across your back, pushing you down further while his other guides his cock back into you. The first thrust is a lot smoother than the last, the glide of your wetness helping him ease in to the hilt. This position has him reaching in deeper inside of you, your hands fisting the cool sheets as you moan out his name.

Its messy, the way his dick squelches every time it re-enters your, wetness coating his cock and dripping down onto the sheets. His palms grasp your hips, fingers digging into your flesh roughly. He knew he could crush you if he wanted to and the fact that you still laid here, drunk off his cock instead of running away, he knew he was just as ruined as you were.

“Jung-jungkook.” You gasp out, rutting back onto him with a small laugh and it catches his attention when he notices one of your hands come up to point at the door, “we have a visitor.”

He hums when his eyes lock onto the observer, another vampire he was familiar with, the dark red hair of Jung Hoseok flashes in the light. He’s leaning against the door frame, a drink in his hand as he watches on nonchalantly.

“Lets give them a show then yeah?”

He grinds against you with more purpose, one hand coming around to your front to meet your clit, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers until you’re trembling. Your pussy clamps around him, your mouth dropping open in a lewd moan, burying your face into the sheets while you let yourself get lost in the feeling of it all.

Knowing Jungkook was having his way with you while someone watched lit a fire inside of you, the way you were creaming his cock being evidence enough that you were clearly enjoying yourself.

“Harder, fuck me harder.”

Jungkook fulfills your request, starting to thrust into your heat harshly with no qualms about having a spectator. “You’re soaked baby, you gonna make a mess of these sheets?”

All of your senses are full of him, just him and his cock and the way he pounds into you, his fingers flicking against your clit with expertise. His grasp on your hips is the only thing keeping you from toppling over, your upper body laying limp on the bed as you let his ravish you.

When your eyes look up, meeting the gaze of the stranger by the door you smirk, sending them a wink and earning a chuckle from them.

Jungkook can feel you tightening up around him, his own release creeping up inside of him. He needs to taste you again, “Let me have another bite baby.”

He bends over your body until his nose pushes against your hair draped over your neck, a deep inhale sending shivers down your spine. Your hand comes up to move your hair out of the way, mewling when he nudges against your skin, “Oh god, yes.”

His lips latch onto you seconds later, the now familiar feeling of his fangs sinking into your skin making your whole body tense up this time. Your limbs lock up as he moans against your flesh, the warm blood dribbling into his mouth. Blood always tasted different coming straight from the jugular, the taste of it making his eyes roll back as he quickly ruts into you.

The euphoric feeling of him drinking from you pushes you over the edge once more, the pleasure sparking from the open wound until it reaches all of your limbs. Your walls clamp around him impossibly tight as you cum, a shout of his name leaving you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His lips never leave your neck, suckling the blood from you as your body trembles underneath his. A weak whimper leaving your lips sends him over, his balls tensing up until he’s spilling into you, thrusting his hips against yours as deep as he could. The warmth of his cum fills you up, a soft sigh sounding out when he finally detaches from your neck, the smear of blood around your neck being licked up by him as he shallowly thrusts a few more times.

“Shit.”

Your eyes look up once more to find that the other vampire was now gone, leaving you and Jungkook alone once more, his cock still buried inside of you, your neck throbbing slightly after the abuse.

When he pulls out of you your hips full drop onto the mattress, the cool sheets feeling like heaven against your warm body. Jungkook chuckles at your worn out form, gently grasping you to flip you over to face the ceiling, not giving you a moment to recover before slotting his lips against your own.

You taste your own blood on your tongue, the coppery tang being new to you but you don’t mind it, not with the way he kisses you like you were more than just a messy fuck. He pulls back after a second and you grin at him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, your thumb rubbing the drying blood from his chin.

“What did I taste like?”

He presses another kiss against you, “Like fucking heaven, I could die eating your pussy.”

The wink he sends you makes you blush, swatting his chest lightly with a laugh, “I meant my blood you perv.”

“Oh I’m the perv now?” He teases, catching your hand before you can smack him again, “I think you ruined me too baby, never tasted blood this sweet.”

You bite your lip at his words, staring up at him with wide eyes in an almost innocent way as if you hadn’t just participated in this scandalous act. He wanted nothing more than to proposition you into being his blood bag, a somewhat intimate request but he knew it was useless. Considering you had never been to this club before he knew you weren’t from around here, you’d be long gone in a few days, a distant memory that would simmer away over time and for some reason it pained him to think that so he chose to suppress it.

“Let me walk you home, you never know what monsters could be lurking.”

That same giggle that enamored him earlier is back now, “If I could handle you I could handle anyone.”

His eyebrows arch up at your teasing tone, a smirk curling his lip as he stares you down, “Is that so?” His eyes have that same predatory look in them, your skin breaking out into goosebumps at the way he stares at you, looking like he’s ready to dive in once more.

He wasn’t finished with you yet.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 16

Distractions and Sex

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: bucky helps distract you after the whole Steve shot happens

Warnings: swearing, smut, so much fucking smut, slight dirty talk, slight degradation, knife play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, bucky being super soft, lots of fluff

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It had been nearly an hour since y/n had left in search of Steve, and there still was no sign of her. Bucky began to worry, chewing his already short fingernail as he became more and more scared. Now, weather it was the thought of y/n getting hurt that scared him or one of her in Steve's bed, he didn't know.

The super soldier was just pushing up from where he'd perched himself on her surprisingly luxurious bed when the door creaked open, the shock of it giving Bucky a little start as he flinched slightly. Y/n stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes red-rimmed and looking almost dead - so dry from crying for so long it looked almost uncomfortable, which of course it was. She held a near empty whiskey bottle in her hand, which almost fully explained her state.

Bucky stood from the bed abruptly, taking the few strides that it took to close the gap between them as y/n kicked the door closed with her foot.

"You didn't find Steve?" He asked worriedly, hands coming up to cup her face. Y/n scoffed, letting out a slurred, humourless laugh.

"Oh I found him alright." She crocked.

"And? Should I go speak to him?" Buck urged, desperately trying to meet y/n's eyes but she adverted her gaze to some plotted succulents that occupied her bedside table.

"That's probably not the best idea. At all." She deadpanned, moving out of Bucky's grip before flopping onto the bed and blowing out a big sigh.

When Bucky looked at her, he couldn't help but feel like she looked like a fallen angel. Her hair fanned around her face like a halo, the glaring light from the room creating shining highlights over her skin, her lips pouted almost sinfully; and yet her dress was skew-whiff and her mascara ran down her cheeks, the reddened look to her eyes almost devilish.

Y/n brought the whiskey bottle up high enough to unscrew the cap, tilting her head up enough so she could take another swig of the golden liquid. But she was predictable, the drink's effects slowing down her movements and before her lips met the rim of the bottle Bucky was swiping it from her hands, letting it settle on the little table next to her bed.

"I think you've had quite enough of that." Bucky scolded, a frown morphing his once-soft features. Y/n blew out a frustrated sigh, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest like a little girl throwing a tantrum.

"And I think you should stop telling me what to do." She bit back, her snarky attitude telling Bucky everything he needed to know about why people avoided the Stark's when they were drunk.

"C'mon, doll. Why don't we just get you into some more comfort clothes and into bed?" Bucky suggested, y/n standing up to become nose-to-nose with him as he spoke. "I'll help with the zip if you like." He offered, gesturing for y/n to turn around. But her attention was elsewhere, eyes glued to his plump pink lips that she was kissing not to long ago. Maybe the distraction would help...

"Doll-" Bucky began but y/n was quick to cut him off.

"Just shut up and kiss me, soldier." Y/n murmured breathily, eyes transfixed on his lips. Bucky threw all logic out the window, like those words were a new string of triggers. His rough hands cupped her face again, y/n letting out a shiver when the metal made contact with her flushed skin, before he was smashing his lips to hers in a desperate kiss.

Bucky walked her backwards until y/n's knees hit the bed, the girl falling into the plush covers. Bucky was quick to crawl over her, coving y/n's body with his own at his teeth nipped at her bottom lip and his hands explored her body like it was the first time. His touch was everywhere, leaving a trail of fire in its wake across her skin.

"Soldier, please." Y/n whines breathily, fisting her hands into his hair as Bucky trailed his kisses over her jaw. He hummed in agreement, beginning to kiss down her body before y/n was using her grip on his hair to yank his head back up. "I'm ready. Just please, get inside me." She begged, a sound that Bucky could listen to for hours if need be.

He nodded quickly, moaning as she fumbled with his belt and jeans zipper before wrapping her slim fingers around his hard cock. He kicked off his jeans and boxers, thrusting onto her hand slightly as he bunched y/n's dress around her waist and slid the thin piece of cloth to the side.

That's when his hand brushed against the silver blade strapped to her upper thigh, hand hand instinctively snapping away. Y/n giggled, a soft sound that was like a melody in the super-soldier's ear.

"I always like to be prepared when I'm in public." She informed him, her laughter gone when she realised that she may have scared him off. But a wide grin split over Bucky's face, his lips hovering over hers once again as he unsheathed the knife from the leather strap.

"Good girl. It seems I taught you well." He mumbled against her lips, giving the girl a quick kiss before pulling back from her and sitting back on his haunches.

He twirled the knife in his hands, smirking at the blade as he flipped it between his fingers until the tip rested at y/n's heart. Her breath hitched momentarily, eyes drifting forwards towards the silver dagger before a smirk of her own spread across her lips.

"Kinky. I always knew you'd be a freak if you were in the right headspace." She smirked, gasping lightly as the soldier flipped the blade again, this time holding it against her hip, under the dress, and hooked it into the waistband of her panties. He brought his lips her her ear, breath hot and foggy.

"And what sane person initiates knife play during sex?" He mumbled, nipping at her earlobe. Y/n giggled again, the endearing sound finding his cock and making it throb as it somehow grew even more.

"I never said that you were sane, soldier." Y/n whispers, enticing a small growl from Bucky as he nipped at her neck. Y/n gasped again, the blade tugging up harshly and snapping the band of her lace panties, the fabric falling from around her as he repeated the same action on the other side.

"Hands and knees. Now." He murmured gruffly in her ear, making y/n clamp her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to conceal her giddy smile, but the excited fling to her eyes gave away ever though the girl was having at that moment.

When she didn't move quick enough, bucky used his metal hand to flip y/n over, tugging her up onto her hands and pulling her ass flush against his hips. He ran his cock through her puffy folds, collecting her wetness and groaning at how much he found just from some kissing and knife-play.

"Fuck. You're soaked." Bucky praised, soothing a hand over her ass before it was cracking against the skin. Y/n yelped, jolting forward onto her forearms as bucky slid home with one deep thrust. "Fuck. Your little pussy just sucks me right in. Suck a fucking slut for me." Bucky grunted, pulling his hips back and snapping them into hers roughly.

Y/n cried out as Bucky tangled a fist in her hair, pulling the girl back against his  best as he thrusted vigorously into her wet heat. His mouth next to her ear, Bucky brough his flesh hand to her neck again, knife still in grasp as the blade pressed slightly against the scar running across her neck.

You'd think it'd trigger something in y/n, make her uncomfortable or flood her with unwelcome emotions. But it did the opposite. To y/n, having one of the men she loved, who she knew to have endured the same trauma as she had at the same hands as her, with her knife pressed to her neck, it somehow made her feel empowered, like they were claiming the pain as their own - no one else's. She moaned loudly, now completely sobbed and completely aware that every time she jolted forward the knife scraped and scratched her skin ever so lightly, nicking the skin in a prickle that caused on or two drop of blood to trickle down her neck and slide over her collar bone.

"S'tight and warm. Fuck, you feel so good." Bucky husked into her ear, the words causing y/n's walls to flyer around his cock, causing both the assassins to moan loudly. "Touch that pretty clit for me baby, make yourself come all over my cock." He rasped, driving into her tight cunt even harder that before, if that was possible.

With a shaky hand, y/n reached down, rubbing small and tight circles against her bundle of nerves as Bucky's cock slammed into her balls-deep. Y/n cried his name as she came, her walls convulsing around Bucky wildly, her own orgasm triggering his.

Bucky grunted and groaned y/n's name as he stilled inside her, ropes of his come painting her slick walls. Her dropped the knife to the bed, placing his hands on her waist as he slowly pulled out of her. Y/n winced slightly as he did so, moaning at the feeling of their come mixed together and dripping down her thighs.

Y/n made to protest as Bucky got up, leaving her panting of the bed. He chuckled, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead before telling not to move and that he'd be back in a moment.

...

I didn't know how long he left the room for, but when Bucky returned he scooped me into his arms and carried me into the bathroom that was connected to me room and set me down on the marble counter, the warm feeling of the hot bath radiating against my skin, the mirror against my back dam with condensation and steam. I shivered slightly at the cold contact of the glass against my exposed skin, my mid elsewhere as I felt the super soldier slip me out of my dress and lift my into the bath after him.

He used a soapy cloth to clean me, rubbing it over my skin in soft circles, gently massaging my aching muscles. He littered my shoulders in kisses, his warm chest pressed to my back and his arms circled around me once he was done cleaning me.

"Did I help?" He pondered, tilting his head slightly although I couldn't see that.

"Hm?" I hummed, still slightly out of it.

"Did I help? Distracting you?" He rephrased and I nodded, cuddling against him further.

"Lots. I haven't really thought about st- that, since I saw you. So thank you." I smiled, and Bucky didn't miss the way I avoided Steve's name.

"I'm happy to help, Doll." He smiled back, pressing a kiss to my hair. We stayed like that for a while, his arms wrapped around me - one warm and one cool - my head against his shoulder and his nose buried in my hair.

After a while of comfortable silence, Bucky helped me out of the tub, where the water was now turning cold and my body was beginning to shiver - despite the warms radiating off him. He wrapped a towel around the both of us, leading me into the bed room and throwing me his t-shirt whilst he pulled on his boxers.

We climbed into bed, my head resting against his chest as I nuzzled into him, completely missing the way his gaze lingered on my face, or the was his hand carded through my hair and his lips pressed to my forehead because sleep had already pulled me under its lulling spell.

“Goodnight.” He whispered against me, finally letting his blue grey eyes fall shut and his mind to rest, falling onto as deep a sleep as me as he slept the best he had since before the war, when him and Steve used to share a little apartment in Brooklyn.

[monsterstewwrites]

More Honey cuz I’ve gone insane

My Sheep hybrid AU Honey, from Miggiisdumb’s bnha hybrid farm au has been taking of my brain recently, so I wrote another thing for her. This time we actually see some of the smut she and farmer Shoto get up to.

I have no idea how farms work so a lot of this is guesswork and googling, also I am not a very good writer. But honestly, writing smut and sex gets me motivated anyway so here we go.

Shino belongs to one-spicy-spider and you should shower her with love.

Donovan stared into her eyes and ran his hands over her clothed breasts, her nipples hardening from the attention. The way his thumbs kneaded into the hardened buds sent shivers through her soft skin.

“Can you feel me through your dress?” He asked her, pressing himself fully against her and grinding his hips into her crotch. “The flimsy fabric you typically wear makes you practically naked, which I often love. But you're not actually nude, which can make things frustrating, as you can feel.”

Indeed, Alyssa could feel his manhood through the thin fabric of the white dress she wore, it throbbed through his own trousers and sent her into a flush.

“Do you want me?” He whispered into her ear, his hot breath making her wetter.

With a heavy swallow she nodded, and Donovan grinned and reached for the straps of her dress and pulled it apart with a hard ripping sound.

Her hands instinctively tried to cover herself, but he used one hand to grab her wrists and pinned them above her head. She could feel his long fingers twist down her skin and tightening around her joints, locking her into that position.

The now tattered dress fell to the floor as he snaked his massive hand down between her legs and pressed his entire palm against her dripping pussy and tapped lightly against her folds. She groaned at the gentle touch, hoping for him to pressing rougher.

“Do you want it rougher?” He said to her. “Do you want my fingers to treat you mean?”

“Please!” Alyssa cried. “Take me, open me and use me as you please!”

Donovan pushed his fingers inside her and kissed into her neck, teeth grazing her skin and his tongue working around her neck and squeezing, not to strangle her, but to feel her heartbeat against one of his most sensitive appendages.

She loved the way that his long fingers reached inside her in ways no one else could, and she groaned out in pleasure as he felt around inside her.

“Take me with your cock,” she moaned out. “Fill my cunt with your barbs and never let me go.”

“Sheepy, earth to sheepy!”

Honey snapped the book closed, her face aflame and legs squirming slightly as she pressed the book against her chest. She looked up at the sight of Doctor Keigo looking down at her with a smirk on his face.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked.

She winced and stuffed her smut back into the little pocket of her wool.

When she went over to Doctor Keigo's office for her checkup he had said it was okay for her to take the book she had been reading, and he once said as log as it kept her from being too nervous she could keep doing so.

They both forgot how much of a distraction her reading habits could be.

“I'm glad to know you're enjoying my gift,” the vet said to her as she turned back to him. “One person's trash really is another person's treasure and all that, still it'd be nice if you paid a pinch attention during your checkup.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“No worries Sheepy,” he said. “Some people get sucked into it more than others. Now let me check your vitals to you can head back to the barn and finish that bodice ripper.”

He took out his stethoscope and began checking her heartbeat.

“It's a bit fast,” he muttered. “Though I have a good guess why that is.”

Honey stuck her tongue out at him, proof that she was getting more used to him and could be comfortable around with without fear.

“I know you first got into them for research,” he said idly. “You wanna get more ideas for how to better seduce the lads around here, most likely Shoto because you're more of a nightingale than a sheep most days.”

Honey pouted, he had insisted that before but she didn't think so. She didn't like him because he saved her or anything, she liked him because when she was scared and alone he was kind to her and made her feel like this new place was home.

That was completely different.

“I'm not a sexy cow,” she said. “I can't just make him suck my boobs the way he does with the cows, I wanna be able to walk all sexy and make him hard just as our eyes meet.”

Her fancy description and wistful tone made Keigo throw her a look, she really had been diving into those books a lot hadn't she?

“You really don't need at that faff to seduce someone, you know,” he said. “Men aren't complicated, and it's not like you've never screwed him before.”

“Well, yeah,” Honey admitted as she turned around and leaned over as far as she could without falling. “But I can barely ask for normal sex, what about that fancy sex I keep reading about and wanna try? The one where the princess was taken on the ship and tied to the mast, and the Octopus King saved her from the pirates and pleasured her while pulling the boat she was still tied to to his kingdom is still one of my favorites.”

Keigo paused in his checking of her spine.

“Was that was that one was about?” He muttered.

Honey ignored him and straightened herself back up, a few of her spinal joints popping as she stretched slightly.

“Is it so bad to wanna feel like a pretty damsel being rescued by her strong prince sometimes?” She asked, voice growing shy by her admission.

Keigo wrote something down on his clipboard with an amused sigh.

“Honestly considering what usually goes down around here that's probably pretty tame,” he admitted. “Stick your tongue out for me.”

She complied with each of his instructions and made a 'blah' to show him her tongue, checkups were kinda boring of she were being honest. Luckily only a few more things needed to be checked up on anyway, and he soon was able to finish things up with her.

“Alright Sheepy,” He said. “Everything looks to be in order her, you need me to escort you back to your pen?”

“No thank you,” Honey said. “I'm fine, goodbye doctor.”

“Next time I'll being you a series,” he said as she slipped out the door. “You're one of my most manageable patients, so I have to reward that somehow.”

He threw her a little wink and laughed at her flustered reaction, slamming the door behind her.

Doctor Keigo doing that always spurred her into a run, sprinting back to her pen where she could finish her book in relative peace.

The barn was usually pretty empty around this time of day, most of the other animals being milked or sheared or fucked.

Sometimes they fucked in the barn itself, but the hay had yet to be replaced and most of the hybrids preferred clean hay to roll around in.

Honey arrived at the barn hoping to find a bit of quiet, curl up under her blanket and read and get a few more ideas to become more confidant in herself. Sometimes she got so absorbed in her novels that she didn't even notice that sex was happening in the pen right next to her.

She didn't expect what she saw when she entered the barn made for the sheep to get to her pen.

“What?”

Amber eyes flashed at her as a stranger stared at her in silence.

A raccoon hybrid was rooting around in Honey's little pen and had strewn her novels all over the place, nearly all of them in tatters. Ripped out pages littered the floor and the cover of 'A midsummer night's cream' was sticking out of the raccoon's mouth as well as a few strings of the she's blanket.

Honey wasn't a violent hybrid by nature, in fact she was probably the least physically assertive (or any kind of assertive) hybrid in the the entire farm.

But when she saw what this stranger had done to her belongings and sleeping space something inside her snapped.

“NO!” She screamed, running towards the offending trespasser with her little hands in fists as she bounded over the fencing to get to her. “Get away! Those are mine!”

She tried to throw a punch at the raccoon, but was caught off guard by the little pest swiftly spinning around and swinging a knife wildly at Honey, slicing into her arm. A manic laugh erupted from her feral throat at her own actions.

But unluckily for the raccoon, Honey was loud when she was both scared and hurt.

She screamed as loud as she could, praying that someone could hear her, and she grabbed the raccoon by the roots of her scraggly blonde hair to make sure she couldn't escape. Another attempt to swing the knife resulted in Honey using her other hand to grip the grimy raccoon wrist in exchange for the blade nicking her skin.

“Geh!” The raccoon let out a harsh grunt as Honey pulled the sloppy hair. “Gedoffa me you stupid farmie brat!”

She pulled her arm away from Homey's losing her knife in the process, and swiped out at Honey's body, and the sheep was thankful for the level of wool she had accumulated because the claws protected her flesh from being sliced into.

Instead they tangled up into the wool itself which was less than ideal.

The pair of them ended up tussling amongst the scattered papers, with the raccoon trying to pry free from Honey and Honey herself trying to keep her in place despite the pain of her wool getting snagged.

Blood from her knife wounds trickled down her arm as the sheep hybrid tightened her grip on the raccoon's scraggly hair, one of the twin buns coming loose as she held fast.

It hurt really bad and she was scared out of her mind but she was too angry to let go.

The raccoon girl hissed as her claws managed to get free from the wool, tearing a chunk of it out in the process. She dug her hands into the arm that was grabbing at her hair and cause the sheep to let go.

“That's it!” The pest shrieked. “I'll teach you to mess with my rummaging!”

She drew her clawed fingers back and swiped at Honey's face, the sheep closed her eyes and braced for impact.

A sudden clang interrupted the pain and she felt herself get pulled away.

She blinked in confusion before realizing that she was in Shoto's arms, one hand wrapped protectively around her while the other held held a large empty bucket.

The raccoon was doubled over, clutching her head.

“Shoto!” Honey breathed.

“Damn you!” The raccoon cried out. “Don't interfere you asshole!”

Shoto looked like he was going to swing his bucket again, but something stopped him. A rush of air from above as something else literally flew into the barn and landed atop the fencing of the pen.

The barn owl hybrid Shino stared down at the scene with fury in her eyes.

The raccoon stared back.

“Well shit.”

Shino let out a screech, spreading her wings to their fullest and causing the raccoon to let out a shriek and turned around to run, but Shino was faster. The owl hybrid was on her in a second, pinning down her prey with her mighty talons.

The raccoon could only kick and scream as she was held fast.

Honey stared in awe at the sight of how easily Shino had apprehended that horrible raccoon, and made a mental note to thank her in some way once everything was set back to normal.

Glancing at the tatters of her books below, she wondered if she could make a flower crown out of the papers for her. She'd look super pretty with one, not that she didn't look pretty already.

At the barn doors many cows gathered to try and take a peek at what had happened, the heifers who could see the mess whispering to the cows in back and sending the whispers of gossip throughout them.

A few of the cows could see that Honey was bleeding, and that only got them more abuzz with interest. Shoto ignored them in favor of putting his bucket down and checking up on the little sheep in his arms.

“Thank you,” Shoto said to Shino. “I was afraid I'd have to hold it off myself.”

“No problem, I'm just sad I didn't catch her earlier. Hey! Quit kicking,” Shino snapped as other farmers and hybrids arrived at the barn to see what the fuss was about. “Don't make me rip that nasty head of yours off.”

While Shino was threatening, Iida barged in, pushing past the gossipy cows and taking a look at the situation in all it's chaos. When his eyes fell on the raccoon hybrid beneath Shino he actually recoiled at the sight of her.

“What on earth is she doing in here?” He asked. “How did she get in?”

“Maybe we can get the details out of her later,” Shoto told him. “Right now we should take care of Honey.”

He looked over her and took stock of the injuries she had sustained in her scuffle. All of a sudden the gravity of what had just happened hit her like a ton of bricks, the pain of her wounds coming to her now that the adrenaline was wearing off. She threw herself deeper into Shoto's chest and let out a tired sob.

“I'll take care of her,” he said to Iida. “You take care of that thing.”

“Bring her here Todoroki,” A voice said, silencing the gossiping cows. Doctor Keigo walking inside with a medical kit at his side and Izuku trailing behind.

Shino's feathers puffed up in irritation at the sight of Keigo, but given the situation she didn't move from her grip atop the intruder as he stood just outside the pen.

Keigo kept his distance and gave a nod to Izuku, who approached with a long pole with a looped steel cable.

Izuku quickly looped the snare around the raccoon's neck, only giving Shino the okay to let her up once he was sure it was secure.

“Keep one talon on her,” Keigo advised. “Take her to my office and don't take your eyes off her for a second. I have a friend who can make sure she isn't diseased and take her back to wherever she came from.”

It was clear that the great owl Hybrid wasn't keen on going to his office, but since he seemed to be staying behind to take a look at her little sheep friend.

Only slightly reluctantly, Shino and Izuku led the raccoon, who had begun laughing like a lunatic for some reason, and the onlooking cows hooted jeers and jabs at her.

“Now now!” Iida shouted at the crowd of hybrids looking on. “Nothing to see here everyone, go back about your day, unless you would like to help clean this mess up!”

That made them scatter, most back to their milking or fucking.

“I'll cover you for today,” Iida said to Shoto. “You make sure she's alright, I know she likes you best so it'll be quickest if it's in your hands.”

The way his face pinked a little bit told Shoto all he needed to know about where his mind was at as he walked outside where the remainder of the cows were waiting for him.

Not that either of them were complaining.

Setting her down, Shoto took Honey's sliced up arms and winced at the sight of them. He hated the sight of anyone on this farm hurt, and reaching for the medical supplies that Keigo placed nearby he carefully got about disinfecting her injuries.

She winced at the disinfectant rubbing into her wounds but remained still so Shoto could do his job. Once he was done he pressed his hand to her cheek, which she leaned into and kissed his palm.

Nearby, Keigo was examining the knife that had been used to stab at Honey.

“Looks like she swiped this from somewhere on the farm,” he said. “That means it's not likely to have any diseases on it, so that's a bit of good news here. I'll take a blood sample just in case, but I don't think you have anything to worry about, especially since you've been given shots to prevent this sort of thing.”

“That's good,” Shoto said as he bandaged up her injuries. “You've been really brave so far, can you hold still so he can do that?”

She nodded, but leaned into Shoto's chest anyway as Keigo pulled out a hypodermic needle and drew closer. No one liked needles on the farm, but she knew better than to kick up a fuss about it after everything and let him draw a bit of blood.

Once he had taken his sample he stood up so he could head out to get it checked out.

“I'll leave it to you two then,” he said. “You kids play nice.”

Shoto ignored him, and the joke flew over Honey's head as she looked at the mess made of her pen. He laughed as the barn doors closed behind him and left them alone.

Honey sighed sadly as she bent down to pick up the destroyed books that were scattered around her pen, the sadness of losing them creeping back to her.

“I can't believe that horrible thing destroyed all my books,” she said sadly. “I loved them all and now they're ruined. I might be able to figure out how to make the scraps into something pretty, but it's sad that I won't be able to read them anymore.”

“'Tonio gazed into Angelica's eyes and gave her full rump a squeeze, causing a grunt to erupt from her throat. He wanted to make that sound fill his mind forever, and he had just in instrument to do so.'” Shoto read from one of the papers, his eyebrows raising with each word. “This is some intense stuff, you know.”

Honey flushed and tried to grab at the papers, but he snatched it out of her reach with a teasing grin.

“Were you hoping to get some ideas?” He asked.

She was about to deny it, but she realized that the look in his eye was a chance that he was giving her. Honey swallowed and said the first thing she could think of.

“So what if I was?”

That was all he needed to hear.

Shoto pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another above her eye, and her nose, and finally to her soft lips.

She hummed into his kiss, feeling everything around them melt away. Her mouth opened instinctively and allowed him to push his tongue against hers as he gently guided her backwards until her back hit the pile of hay in the corner.

His hands ran across her soft body, fondling her chest as he kissed her and traveling lower and lower. One hand hooked under one leg and hitched it up to allow better access to the lovely pussy that was aching for him.

She moaned into his mouth as he fingered at her delicate clit, rubbing small circles into it with her thumb as his fingers probed her sloppy little hole.

Honey's hands gripped around his neck and pulled him closer to her, as close as they could possibly manage. He took the chance to nip at her neck, at that spot he knew drove her crazy as his fingers pumped in and out of her and curled his fingers just so, making tremors shake her body as she spilled over his hand.

“You,” she panted. “You were like my knight in shining bucket.”

That made him laugh against her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin and savoring the feel of her pulse beneath his tongue.

He wanted to make sure she was completely ready for him, loosening her walls so there wouldn't be any pain. She's already gone through enough after all.

After another few moments, he pulled his fingers out of her and reached for the fly of his pants.

“I'm you're knight eh?” He muttered as he fumbled with the zipper. “In that case...”

The sounds she made had made him achingly hard, and he could tell she had been thinking about his erection for a long time as he freed it from it's confines. She looked hungry for it, as much as he was for her.

“Allow me to claim my reward from the lovely maiden then.”

Honey felt like Princess Stella from one of her favorite novels, and she bit her lip in anticipation as her legs spread more, as much as she could manage.

Shoto ran a hand along her thigh, gentle and loving.

“Well then, are you ready for me?” he whispered into her ear. “Ready for your knight to take you?”

“Please,” she moaned. “Oh please fuck me, I can't wait anymore.”

Shoto gripped her legs and spread them as wide as she could comfortably manage and pressed his length into her aching pussy with a groan, the wetness from his earlier treatment allowing him to slide in until he was balls deep.

They both let out guttural moans that were practically in harmony.

“You alright?” He asked, not moving an inch until he was sure she was good about it.

She was stuffed so full of him that all she could do was nod, allowing him to pull away from her and slam back inside against her cervix, making her head fall back with her tongue lolling out of her mouth as he fucked into her until she could barely think straight.

“Oh god,” she moaned, bouncing against his relentless pounding. “Oh yes, please yes! More, please.”

The panting she made and the bounce of her breasts against his pounding only spurred him on further, and he repositioned her legs further until they were pushed up against her ears. It felt like heaven for both of them as fucked deeper into her.

Honey was on cloud nine, only able to think of the sensation of the man above her rearranging her insides. She reached a trembling hand down to where the pair of them were connected so she could continue at her clit. The sight was too delicious and Shoto felt the pressure building up inside him reach a peak, but he did everything in his power to hold off as he mercilessly pounded away.

The two of them filled the air of the barn with their gasps and moans until Honey began to feel her orgasm reach a boil.

“Please,” she panted. “Cum, I wan' cum. Come inside me, please!”

Her begging was enough to push him further towards the edge, and she felt the tension inside her was wound tighter and tighter as he hammered into her even harder.

It was impossible to tell how long they went on for, until a wave of bliss crashed over her with a loud cry. Her back arched sinfully and her walls clamped around his length and triggered an orgasm of his own.

He pressed against her as he emptied his load inside her, filling her up with his cum.

Bliss.

The pair of them panted against each other, their high winding down but they didn't dare move or the feeling would dissipate quicker.

Shoto pressed a kiss to Honey's neck after a moment.

“Good girl,” he panted.

Carefully he pulled out, watching as a few dribbled of his seed spilled from her. She looked up at him with a smile and longing in her eyes.

“Shall we clean up now?” He asked.

“Let's wait just another moment,” Honey said. “This feels too nice.”

He smiled, Iida had told him to take care of her after all. This was all part of the job and who was he to go against his orders?

And she was so soft and perfect to snuggle up with.

It wasn't until an hour later that they were able to get themselves to clean up the pen, saving the paper so Honey could make a lovely crown of paper flowers for her other hero.

She was sad to see her lovely stories go, but considering the fallout she could deem the acceptable losses.

Besides, between doctor Keigo and other farmers hearing what had happened, she soon had more than enough donations to replace it with.

[let-it-raines]

Black Velvet (1/1)

1919. The War is over, but life is far from normal. While the imminent danger is gone for many, it is not gone for Emma Swan. Her secrets have always been dangerous and had the ability to control her, but they have never been more dangerous than now as she is forced to work undercover as a barmaid and keep her true intentions hidden from the most notorious gang leader in England. 

Her life depends on it, but unfortunately for Emma, Killian Jones can read her better than anyone ever has. 

Rating: Mature 

a/n: I was going to wait to post this next week since I’ve been catching up on posting other things this week and flooded you all with words, but I am sooooo excited for this one! Like, I haven’t written a big one-shot in awhile, and this one is a little different for me. But I love it, and hope that you do as well! For my Peaky Blinders fans, I think you’ll recognize some similarities because this is def based on it😘

Found on AO3 | here | 

-/-

There is a sudden crash of glass shattering against the battered wood floor, stains of alcohol, blood, and the scuff marks of boots covering it to make it a darker wood than it originally was. She’s scrubbed that floor until her hands were dry and cracked, but the stains are as imbedded in the wood as the Jones family is in this place, their place. The stains might well be purposeful, and really, they could have been, a sure sign that the Joneses are not scared to let anyone know they do not mind getting blood on their hands or mind leaving the evidence behind. In fact, they are likely proud of it.

Loud cursing fills the usually subdued pub, arguments over whose fault it was for the spilling of the whiskey, but Emma knows that it doesn’t matter whose fault it was when she’s the one who has got to clean it up and scrub the damn floors clean when all is said and done.

Damn drunk men and their damn petty fights over what always amounts to being about a woman who has no interest in either of them.

Sighing, she turns on her heels behind the bar where she was polishing tumblers and other glasses and walks back into the storage room to retrieve the broom and dustpan along with some cloths. She is not supposed to leave the bar and the alcohol unattended, but she has been working here long enough to know that anyone who stumbles into this particular pub is smart enough to know not to steal from the Jones family.

They’ll be dead faster than the rum can pass their lips, and the Joneses don’t give out the good stuff to just anyone so that would be one pathetic last drink.

Twisting on the lights in the closet, her eyes scan over shelves of supplies and half-empty bottles that have somehow made their way back here, until she finds the broom, unattached from the pan.

Of course. Why would the broom ever be stored away with its matching set?

“Fuck,” she mutters, adjusting her trousers. They are too large around her waist, but she hasn’t had time to buy any new clothes lately. From what she’s gleamed, trousers on women are not widely accepted in Birmingham, but some days she cannot be bothered to wear a dress that squeezes the breath out of her. Today was one of those days, but unless she wants her knickers on display for everyone to see, she is going to have to buy new clothes soon.

“That’s no language for a lady.”

Immediately, she twists around to look at the other side of the room where the deep, accented voice originated. He’s standing with his gray suit clad legs crossed over another, arms stretched over his chest so that his shirt tightens around his muscles, and there is a bloody smirk plastered on that ever-handsome face under the dark brush of his facial hair. He’s without his cap and suit jacket today, but he’s never without his vest and the shirt that stays indecently unbuttoned. It is the one thing that never changes about his appearance, and the day she sees his shirt fully buttoned, Emma knows shit will start flying in every direction.

“Well, as you know, I’m far from a lady. I work here after all.”

Blue eyes flicker up and down her body, taking in the curves of her hips and her breasts even under her loose clothing, the bastard, and if possible, the smirk intensifies, curling from one side of his lips to the next.

“Now, darling,” he croons, uncrossing his legs and taking three strides forward to stand in her space, hovering just enough above her to make her feel smaller than she already is, “you and I both know that is not true.” “Do we?” she argues, raising a brow in his direction.

He chuckles, something dark that heads straight between her thighs, and then warm hands are on her hips, rough fingertips brushing against the skin at her waist, and hot breath brushes over her ear and down her neck while whiskers prick her skin.

“Did you miss me, love?” Killian whispers before pulling back, putting space between them as quickly as he closed it off.

“Were you gone?”

His head tilts back with laughter, and she watches him roll his shirt sleeves up, revealing angry red scars and marks on his left hand. She’s heard the rumors of how he received those scars, but when it comes to Killian Jones, rumors are not reliable. He’s done things the average person could never dare dream of, and fiction and reality toe a thin line, both of them crossing until everything is blurred.

“I was in London for two weeks, love. I cannot believe you didn’t notice my absence. I would have thought it would be at the forefront of your mind.”

“Well, I know this may be hard for you to believe, but my thoughts do not revolve around you.”

His brow lifts, lines on his forehead moving with it, and he cocks his head to the side, disbelieving. “A woman as fascinating as you must have too many things to fill her mind other than me, so I can actually believe it if you must know.”

“You flatter me.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I intend to.” He moves around her, footfalls quiet, and presses open the hidden door in the closet he must have walked through to be in here. “My brothers and I will be in our dining room today. Get the good stuff from the safe.”

Emma mockingly bows. “It would be my pleasure.”

He stares, blue eyes bright compared to the darkness of the rest of him, and then he slips out, moving through the back hallways and compartments that were installed during the War but are now used for the family to avoid their enemies and the coppers, who are usually paid off but can sometimes still question the Joneses’ business practices, especially when there’s a new hire for their more questionable ventures. It is a fascinating thing to watch how a family who supposedly manufactures automobiles and distills rum has such a varied number of enemies. Maybe that is simply how it is for all businessmen, but Emma wouldn’t know.

She is simply a barmaid after all.

When she exits the closet with both broom and pan in hand, the argument is over, but the shattered glass remains. She quickly cleans it, dumps the glass outside, and gets back to tending bar, talking to the men who wander in and out of the place. Half of them fancy her, she knows. It’s obvious in the way they speak to her, even more obvious in the way they will often attempt to touch her, but Emma does not get paid to appease the baser desires of the patrons of My Fairest Lady. If she did, she would be in an entirely different type of business where her purse would be full for once.

As the day passes, men come in and out in their tailored suits and carefully curated ties, and Emma watches all of them, seeing where they go and what they order. She watches as some walk up the stairs and only appear again hours lately, but mostly she watches the ones that walk into the pub and immediately turn right into the private room the Joneses sit in when they decide they are going to conduct business at the pub instead of in one of their offices. When the rest of the place quiets, she can often hear them, especially if she decides to rest near the small trap door through which they order their drinks.

Tonight, they are talking about needing new men, but she cannot hear well enough as to why. This has been her problem for weeks. She gleams a little information, but not enough, and if Killian Jones wasn’t so in tune to every noise in the place, she’d sneak through the back tunnels and listen from there.

That would surely get her killed.

The sun sets early, the smog from the factories outside aiding in the darkening of the world, and when her shift is over for the night, Emma grabs her things and leaves, walking through the streets of Birmingham until she is at her flat, a small, dingy little place that reminds her of the homes she grew up in. It wasn’t her first choice, but so often, things aren’t.

Emma twists the key in the lock and walks inside. For all of its faults, the place has electricity. That makes her life much easier since she does not have to go about striking matches and blowing out fire every few hours.

“Hello, dearie.”

Emma’s skin pales, and heaviness settles in her stomach, weighing her down to keep her from moving. Sitting at her kitchen chair is Robert Gold, and no matter how long she has worked with him, she will never feel comfortable when he decides to show his face without notice.

She will never feel comfortable even when he gives notice.

“Gold,” Emma nods, straightening her back. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Slowly, he stands, using his gold-encrusted cane to prop himself up, and Emma shuts the door behind her. She has a knife in a strap around her thigh, and while she technically works for him, she doesn’t trust Gold as far as she can throw that knife.

“Have you located the guns?”

“If I had, you would know.”

“That doesn’t work for me.”

Emma tilts her head back and scoffs, her rapid heartbeat calming as her skin heats, rage and fire and disbelief settling in the bumps of her skin. “Oh, my deepest apologizes. It is obviously a simple bloody task to infiltrate the most notorious gang in the city and gleam where they keep stolen guns. They don’t talk so openly about their business!”

Gold walks closer, beady eyes reflected under the lamplight, and Emma stays steady. “We hired a woman to do this because women are Killian Jones’s weakness. Get to know him, get in his bed, and then you will be in the inner circle.”

She spits. “I am not sleeping with him for your cause.”

“Is my cause not your cause? Getting rid of undesirable gangs and criminals that disrespect the Crown and steal from our arms factories?”

Emma laughs, her heartbeat racing again. “I work for you because I have no other choice. It was this or death.”

He shrugs, tapping his cane. “You shouldn’t have made a deal with me, and we wouldn’t be in this position. Alas, we are, and you must deal with the consequences of your actions, dearie. All deals have a price. I’ll be returning.”

Gold steps around her, making Emma move to the side, and then he exits her flat. His presence, however, lingers, and she feels as if grime and smog are coating her skin. That is a feeling that never goes away, but it is especially present after one of Gold’s visits. Emma curses and stomps her foot, despising her situation. She is only twenty-three years of age, but she has lived the life of an elder. Growing up in orphanages does not set a woman up for a good life, and seven years ago when she fell pregnant but couldn’t afford to take care of the baby, she went to Gold for help. He was known to be able to do anything, especially find homes for children without charging the birth mother exuberant prices, but no one told her the price of his services would be to work for him and the government in backhanded deals. It was this, death, or harm done to a child she has only held once but loves as if she was allowed to raise him.

She couldn’t be a mother, doesn’t know if she ever will be able to again, but she will not let harm fall on that child.

So, now, she is shipped across Europe, putting her life at risk every day. After all, what is the potential of death when compared to certain death?

-/-

Days pass, and Emma learns of no new information. She works long hours, taking extra shifts and standing behind the bar until her feet bleed from blisters, her heels too small with swollen feet. Every day, Killian and his brothers Liam and Lee walk inside, often with William Scarlet and Rob Locksley following behind them, but they say nothing more to her than greetings and drink orders. Killian will spend additional time leaning over the bar, his voice deep with his flirtations, but she pushes them away. She will not sleep with him to get information, and she will not sleep with him because he thinks she is easy prey.

Men like him, no matter how enticing, do not lead to good things.

Knowing he’s the head of a gang doesn’t reassure her.

Knowing one day he will have a price on her head, well, it does not give her any confidence that she could ever be anything more than a warm body in his bed. Most likely, he wouldn’t give her the curtesy of taking her there, instead taking her behind the bar.

If only she had been born into a family with means. Maybe then she could live a life where death did not linger so closely.

“Swan, darling,” Killian calls from his private room, “can you come in here?”

Emma stills, gripping on her glass, but she quickly composes herself. It’s not often she is called into the room, and while she would like an invitation to the inside, she knows it comes with risks. Slowly, she moves around the bar and heads toward the door. Liam opens it for her, nodding, and she steps inside as Liam closes the door behind her. Killian, Lee, William, and Rob are sitting in the cushioned booths, and Killian pats the seat beside him. She nods and sits next to him, keeping her posture straight and face neutral.

“Emma, love,” Killian starts, “you’re educated, are you not?”

“I am not.”

Killian twists and looks at her with wide eyes. “You speak like you’ve been educated.”

“Natural intelligence,” Emma shrugs. Gold gave her an education, but she refuses to give him any credit when most of it has been of her own doing. “I attended school as a child, but not much else. Everything has been self-taught.”

“See,” Lee sighs, “I don’t need more schooling.”

“You damn well do if you want to be a part of this business! We are educated men, and you will be no different.”

“Where did you go to school?” Emma asks, not able to help herself.

“Oxford. Though, my studies were interrupted by my needed service in the War.”

“It’s a shame.”

“I think I’m doing well for myself, regardless, love.”

“You should go to school, Lee,” Emma tells the youngest Jones brother, a bastard child of their father they brought into the family business. “You have the Jones Corporation to fall back on, but if you want to be a true asset, you should better yourself as much as you can.”

“Oi, am I bloody well supposed to take advice from a woman? A woman who is a barmaid no less? What could you possibly know?”

Killian slams his hand down on the table, glass and silverware shaking. “This woman is far more competent than you, lad, and I suggest you respect her. Everyone is your equal, no matter what dear old dad told you to make you believe otherwise.”

Lee curses under his breath, and Emma slinks back into the booth as the room stills, the air heavy with unspoken words waiting to be set free. She doesn’t know if she should stay or walk out of the room and back to her job, but Killian makes the decision for her. “Why don’t you all go? Get back to work.”

“What about what we were discussing?” Liam questions, but he still grabs his cap and his coat.

“We will discuss it later.” The men nod and then begin to shuffle out of the room. Emma moves to join them, but Killian reaches out and grabs her wrist, the warmth of his hand spreading over here. “Stay, Swan.”

She doesn’t dare deny him as she cannot give up any opportunity to learn more about him, so she turns and takes the seat opposite him, smoothing out her skirt and her hair. “Is everything alright?”

“The horse race is this weekend, as I’m sure you know, and I’d like to bring you as a guest.”

Emma blanches. “Excuse me?”

A smile creeps onto his face, and he reaches into his pocket to slide a bag of coins across the table. “I’d like to take you to the races as my companion. You should use this to buy a nice dress and hat.”

“Are you trying to buy my affections?”

“I think we both know you cannot be bought.”

If only he knew.

Emma studies him, trying to read past the smile and the friendly invitation, but she sees nothing of any use. “Why me?”

Killian leans forward, elbow pressed to the table and chin resting on his knuckle. “I fancy you from time to time when you aren’t ignoring me, as I have made no secret.”

Emma thinks to all the times where she’s forgotten herself and has allowed Killian to get close in the way she doesn’t want, all the times he has lingered close to her and pressed his lips to her neck before she pulls away. She will not sleep with him for money or for Gold’s cause, but she would be telling a lie if she said she has never considered it for her own personal reasons. Her mind is constantly contradicting her there, and Emma has never been able to settle her thoughts one way or another.

Getting into bed with dangerous men leads to getting into bed with dangerous things.

Emma has already put on the sheets and started slipping out of her shoes despite her best efforts not to.

“So, you expect me to buy a nice outfit and spend a day away with you as nothing more than an ornament on your arm because you fancy me?”

“I expect nothing of you. Every choice is up to you.”

Emma reaches her fingers across the table and takes the purse of coins. “Any color in particular you’d like for my dress?”

“Surprise me.”

-/-

Her dress is red, and when she walks into My Fairest Lady on Saturday morning, she can feel the eyes of the entire place on her. It’s made of a delicate lace and flowered accents and flares out at the hips, but the corset makes her breasts push up, cleavage showing where she usually hides it. Her heels were dyed to match, her hat too, and it is the nicest thing she’s ever worn. It feels foreign on her skin, and while Emma would prefer comfort, she doesn’t mind feeling elegant for once. Anna, the woman who lives next to her, saw Emma carry her dress home, asked where she was going with it, and insisted she allow Emma to roll her hair with hot curlers and apply paint to her lips. She thinks the redness of her lips along with the cleavage may be the thing that brings down the Jones Company, and if she’d known that, maybe she would have dressed like this earlier.

“You look,” Killian begins.

“I know,” Emma finishes, taking his hand as he helps her into the carriage. “You look nice as well.”

“And much like you, I did know that.”

The drive to the races doesn’t seem long, but Emma knows they’ve traveled for at least two hours. Killian doesn’t talk for much of it, but when he does, it’s to point out something on the side of the road. He’s able to tie everything in with a story from the War or something William Scarlet has done, and Emma chuckles, seeing the lighter side of them. She knows how they spend much of their time, and it is not taking all of Killian’s suits out of his closet and replacing them with Lee’s so they’ll be several sizes too small.

When they arrive at Cheltenham, it is like nothing Emma has ever seen before. The building around the track is glamourous and obviously newly built, and everyone around is in their nicest clothes. To Emma, this is foreign, every bit of it. Her life is a life in the shadows in tattered clothes and normal things. Her life is not spent betting on horse races and wearing dresses worth more than her flat to accompany the head of a gang while she secretly attempts to discover where he’s hiding the guns Gold wants.

She does not even know why Gold wants those guns so badly when the factory can surely produce more, but her entire life is about finding them.

She should have never stepped foot in his house had she known these would be the consequences, but she needed to give that kid the good life he has.

“This is spectacular,” Emma says as the carriage stutters to a stop amongst all the others, motors slowly dying out.

Killian takes her hand and guides her out of the carriage, placing his hand on her lower back when they set foot on the gravel. “You haven’t seen anything yet, love.”

Killian is right in that she hasn’t seen anything because when they walk inside, the floor is lined with black and white tiles, and the ceiling is home to ornate paintings and chandeliers that look too heavy to stay there. Emma shouldn’t feel overwhelmed by it all, but she does. Killian knows every other person they pass, some greeting him with reverence and some greeting him with fear, but they all greet him just the same. His hand stays steady on her back as he moves her though the hallways, and he introduces her to several other women before disappearing into another room. She wants to follow him, to see what business he’s doing, but she knows she can’t.

“How do you know Killian Jones?” a woman with long brunette hair asks. Emma thinks her name is Ruby, but she cannot remember. It was too much talking at once.

“How do you?” Emma counters.

“I was his lover years ago.”

Emma arches her brow. “Well, that does not shock me.”

“Oh, you don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

Ruby steps closer to her, whispering so no one around them can hear. “He had an affair with the wife of a powerful man, and the man killed his wife in front of Killian and burned Killian’s hand. After that, he slept with anyone who so much as looked like his lover because he was often too drunk to realize the difference. So, you, you’re different. I have never seen him go with a blonde.”

“Well,” Emma steadies, trying to keep her heart from racing after what she heard, “I am not his lover, so I imagine you’ll have to keep waiting to see that.”

“Not yet,” Ruby tells her before stepping away, dress trailing behind her.

“You ready to watch the races?”

Emma jumps at Killian’s returned presence, and he chuckles, placing his hand on her back again while looking down at her, amused. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Emma lies. “Just fine.”

She flashes a smile that reaches her eyes, making it as genuine as possible, and before Killian guides her to their seats, she sees a spot of blood on his shirt. She doesn’t know if it is his or someone else’s, but she does know that whatever business he had at the races has very little to do with horses.

-/-

Emma’s feet ache when she settles into her seat in the carriage, and she immediately toes out of her shoes and tucks her feet underneath her. Killian eyes her with curiosity, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shrugs of his jacket and lays it over her lap.

“You may not have been able to move, but you cut quite the figure in that dress.” Her cheeks heat, but she doesn’t say anything, simply smiling at him. “Did you enjoy the races, Swan?”

“I did. Though, not as much as you.”

“What makes you say that?”

Emma hums and taps her fingers over Killian’s suit jacket, moving it to cover more of her. “Well, your purse is fuller. Your horse won, and if I heard correctly, you are now in charge of all bets.”

He turns to look at her, and if she were talking to any other member of the gang, she would back away. For some reason, however, the leader doesn’t scare her tonight, not like he should. She had one too many glasses of fine wine.

“How exactly do you know that?”

Emma points to the small blood stain on his shirt. “I’m assuming that is the blood of someone from the Mills family, who all mysteriously went away before the races even started. Everyone came to Rob and Liam to make their bets. It does not take a genius to figure things out once the pieces begin to fall into place.”

“Not a genius, no, but someone with an observant eye.” He leans forward, invading her space like he so often does. “You, love, know a little too much.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Emma whispers, breathless.

He leans closer, until her air and his air are the same, and Emma closes her eyes to brace herself, not knowing what is coming next. His lips ghost over hers, but they do not firmly touch. Instead they linger, and Emma feels every move he makes. “Keep you close,” Killian finally says. “I believe you would know too much for me to let you go.”

Enough but not what she needs.

“I believe you may be right.”

Killian rests his hand on her thigh before pulling back, their air separating into their own entities once more. “Lee would have a bloody fit if he ever knew you so quickly figured things out. The boy has potential, but he is too much like our father. I believe that will be his downfall.”

“I believe underestimating women will be his downfall.”

Killian clicks his tongue and nods. “You see, that stems directly from our father, the bastard of all bastards, and you are correct. Many a man was brought down by the kiss of a woman, but few of them have the smarts to know it was her brain that truly brought them down.”

“And you know that?”

“Aye, I do.”

Emma wants to ask about the woman Ruby mentioned early, but she doesn’t dare. She’s already toeing the lines of danger tonight, and mentioning the deceased woman Killian used to love seems ill advised.

So, she stays quiet and keeps her place, knowing she is one step closer to where she needs to be. She is gaining his trust more and more each day, but she also feels herself slipping into a place from which she cannot return.

Fuck.

-/-

Weeks pass, and the weather chills, Birmingham’s winter quickly creeping upon them. Emma freezes every day on her walk to the pub, but one day a coat appears in a box with her name on it. It is long and warm, and besides her red dress, the nicest thing she owns. Killian never confirms it is from him, but she knows it was. She knows the coat, the gloves, and the scarves are all from him, and while she tells him thank you, he never accepts any of her words. Instead, he invites her more into his life. She knows about the gambling and the illegal businesses of the Jones Corporation, and her knowledge gets her foot in the door.

Everything that happens inside is up to Killian.

He brings her in from the pub to settle arguments, to help with the numbers after he discovers she’s better with them than Rob ever has been, and when Liam goes away for some time to take his wife to visit her family in France, Killian often has Emma sit in Liam’s seat with his hand on her thigh underneath the table.

Killian Jones is not a man who takes his time courting women, but Emma cannot help but feel like that is exactly what is happening with her. It is surely not proper, but there’s too much lingering between them for it to be anything else.

Though, it does always stay lingering, never crossing the line, and Emma finds herself thinking more and more about the woman he loved and the string of women who followed.

She finds her resolve to keep her heart away from him teetering over the edge of no return.

She also thinks of Neal, of how much he promised her, of how much he let her down. He was going to give her a better life, but then he disappeared into the wind, never to be heard from again when she realized she was pregnant.

Surely she must take some blame for her situation, but Emma always remembers that so much of it is because of Neal.

Tonight Killian is allowing singing in the pub. He never does, says it makes the place too cheery when that is not his style of pub, but once a week, he allows the men to sing after she leads them off in whatever song she knows. The joyous mood leads to more drinking, which is more money for them, and she imagines that is the only reason Killian allows it.

If she were a conceited woman, she would say he allows it to hear her sing.

The Joneses and their associates march into the pub, some of them disappearing into the back room, but most come to the main part of the pub, moving around the crowd and disappearing into the thick of it. Emma watches Killian, and she can feel his eyes on her no matter where he is.

He never does come to the bar for long periods of time, not while the place is full of people at least, but then when Arthur Pemberton’s hand gets a little too close to Emma, suddenly Killian is there, standing with her, hand possessively on her hip while he warns Arthur not to let his libations get to him.

“I can handle myself,” Emma hisses when Arthur has stumbled away. “I do not need you.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

“Then what was that? You wanted to show off who had the bigger cock?”

“Darling, I know that would be me.”

Emma’s head tilts back with feigned, exasperated laughter, but Killian does not seem amused. She waits for him to laugh, for the blue of his eyes to light up, but instead his jaw clenches from beneath his whiskered chin.

“Fancy a song then, sailor?” Emma asks to change the subject and keep them from getting into a row. For all the nights they have spent talking about small little details of their lives and their wishes, so, too, have they spent nights arguing. She knows when they’re on the verge of both.

“Why would I fancy a song?”

“To make you smile.”

“Alright then.” He taps his hand on the bar top before helping Emma up to her new vantage point, arching his brow while he looks at her. “Sing me a song then, lass.”

Emma nods and inhales, knowing the entire room will be listening, but she only focuses on the one man with blue eyes as clear as the ocean on a sunny day.

“In a neat little town they call Belfast, apprentice to trade I was bound. Many an hour’s sweet happiness had I spent in that neat little town. A sad misfortune came over me, which caused me to stray from the land. Far away from my friends and relations, betrayed by the black velvet band. Her eyes, they shone like diamonds. I thought her the queen of the land. And her hair, it hung over her shoulder, tied up with a black velvet band.”

When she finishes, the room is silent, her voice echoing between the four walls, and when she looks at Killian, she can see water in his eyes, a new ocean amongst the blue.

“Another!” someone in the crowd yells, but Emma doesn’t turn away from Killian.

“Oi, the lady sings one song. If you want a new one, sing it yourself!”

Emma chuckles and allows herself to sit down on the bar top, Killian helps her to the ground, her heels clicking against the hardwood. His hand lingers, warmth spreading through her, but as soon as it warms her, it disappears as Killian walks away, disappearing upstairs.

“Are you truly not going to sing us another song?”

Emma rolls her shoulders back and turns around, Leroy standing in front of her. She smiles softly and takes his glass, pouring him another drink. “If you ask me nicely, I just might.”

The night passes quickly, My Fairest Lady filling as it does on this day every week, but eventually everyone leaves, the place emptying as the streets quiet outside, the drunks all returning to their homes or their mistresses. Emma takes her time sweeping up, toeing out of her heels to let her feet rest, and she hums all of the songs sung today, their lyrics filling her usually tired mind.

She doesn’t hear him come in, and it would startle her if he didn’t step directly to her, taking her hands in his and pulling her close, joining in the songs she was singing. She didn’t think he could sing, but he carries a tune almost better than she does.

“I don’t dance,” Emma whispers.

“That is because you have never had a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

“And this partner is you?”

“Aye.”

Emma hasn’t danced in years, and she doesn’t know any of the traditional ones. She would be out of place at a ball for many a reason. She could wear the dress, have the nice man on her arm, but her footing would give her way. One wrong step, and everything would be over.

One wrong step here, she could be dead.

Once more, she has no interest in thinking of the real reason she’s here. She wants to stay in this moment, allowing Killian to sing sweet melodies to her, and she wants to forget about Gold and her mission and everything else.

Emma wants to pretend that for now she is nothing more than a woman dancing with a man she has come to fancy despite herself, no darkness and secrets between them.

What a world that would be.

Emma tilts her head up, looking at Killian, at the softness of his lips and the length of his dark lashes. He is different in this light, softer than his usual hard edges, but Emma knows they are still there, just below the surface.

“I took a stroll down broadway,” Killian sings, continuing her song from earlier, “meaning not long for to stay. When who should I meet but this pretty fair maid come a-traipsing along the highway. She was both fair and handsome. Her neck, it was just like a swan.”

Here, he runs a finger down her neck that ricochets into a tremor down her spine.

“And her hair, it hung over her shoulder, tied up with a black velvet band.”

“I thought you didn’t like music,” Emma whispers as his fingers toy with the ends of her loose hair. She’s enchanted by him, and for once, she isn’t afraid to admit it.

“That’s because not everyone sings like you, love.”

Slowly, Emma presses up on her toes, and her lips go gently over his, feeling the softness that resides there. He lingers, not pushing her forward, but before Emma can do just that, his hand comes to cup the nape of her neck, tilting her head for him to control the kiss. She never did imagine Killian Jones wouldn’t be the one to take charge of a kiss, so no part of this surprises her. He tastes like rum, the alcohol burning her tongue as heat overwhelms her, and Emma is so consumed by him that she doesn’t notice the way he’s backed her across the room until the edge of the bar is pressing into her lower back, leaving a mark that will linger longer than the burning of this kiss.

When Emma gently bites at his bottom lip, he growls, moving his hands to pick her up until she’s resting on the top of the bar. Emma cups his cheeks, the prickle of his beard scratching her palms, but she pays no attention to that when her legs wrap around his back and she feels his hips roll into hers, the firmness of him pressing into her in ways she hasn’t felt in too long.

It feels damn good, and if Emma were a proper woman, she would have stopped this and kept it from going too far.

She is not a proper woman.

Killian, however, seems to be a proper man, because he pulls back, sweat slicked forehead leaning against hers, and then he moves away, putting more space between him than Emma wants now that they’ve finally closed the gap they’ve lingered near since her first day on the job. All she wants now is to feel him pulsing inside of her, creating a rhythm that matches with the beat of her heart and brings her the pleasure she so craves.

“I am not having you on this bar,” he grumbles, his voice deep and hoarse. His hand falls down her back, grabbing onto her hip and pulling her closer to him. “You deserve more.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” And she means it. She once thought that he wouldn’t care enough to take her to a bed, but now she finds she’s the one who doesn’t care. Her blood is running hot, and she would be fine with it right here even if the countertop digs into her arse. “This is fine.”

He kisses her again, all teeth and tongue and rough determination, and she thinks he’s given up on his sense of chivalry, especially when he encourages her to wrap her ankles around him, but then he’s stumbling with the kiss and lifting her off the bar. She gasps at the sudden movement and circles her arms around his neck to keep from falling.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Emma protests, pulling away as Killian runs his mouth down her neck.

“I said I wasn’t having you on this bar, and I meant it. I have a private room upstairs for when I can’t sleep at home.”

There’s a dark hunger in his voice, one that thrums between Emma’s thighs, and while she’d much prefer to walk herself to the room, she allows him to have this moment. Her legs are likely too shaky with desire for her steps to be steady.

This is not what she intended to do when she kissed him, but she should have known. It’s been building for months, and Emma has shown enough restraint.

She is tired of convincing herself that she wants anything other than this. s

When they get to Killian’s room, he lays her down on the bed, and Emma immediately starts unlacing her dress at her breasts as Killian undoes the buttons on his shirt, pulling it off before he leans down to assist her, his tongue and teeth tracing her exposed skin and leaving red marks with all of his kisses. The heat between her thighs is a sharp throb now, and Emma writhes underneath Killian has his mouth touches the hollow of her throat and his hand reaches behind her knee, pulling her up until he drags against her in the perfect way that has them both moaning.

“You have tempted me since the moment you walked in this damn pub asking for a job.”

His mouth is eager with its ministrations, especially when he finds her nipple, and Emma is left searching for words as her heart threatens to beat out of her chest. Snow falls outside, cold white flakes coating the ground, but Emma is nothing but warm. Parts of her feel like she is on fire, and even as things progress and clothes no longer lay on her body, she might as well be wrapped in down blankets with a fire burning next to her and a hot drink in her hand.

Instead, she’s pressing into the mattress, Killian’s hand palming her breast while his mouth goes lower and lower until her back is arching into the air and she’s dragging her nails down his back and up into the soft tresses of his dark head of hair. Sweat is beading down her chest and collecting at her hair, and Emma never thought it would be possible to sweat in December in Birmingham.

“Killian,” she moans when he does something sinful with his tongue. “Oh fuck.”

He doesn’t say anything back, simply keeps working how he’s working, and for a long while, it’s like the pleasure is never going to end. It’s a constant working up and up and up until she’s dangling off the cliff, ready to let go.

Killian barely gives her any time to recover from her fall before he’s working his way back up her body, settling over her and settling against her so she can feel him bare where she wants him. Emma licks a stripe up his neck, salt on her tongue, and he grunts in response, rolling his hips against hers until both of them are messes.

Shifting beneath him, Emma moves until Killian is face to face with her, his lips lingering over hers and his wild, sweat slicked hair in front of her. She imagines her hair is tangled as well, and it’ll likely never be the same.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispers, cupping her cheek with his hand.

“So, this isn’t the bar anymore,” Emma jokes, looking for levity in a moment that seems heavy.

“No, no it isn’t.”

They’re both quiet as he presses into her in a slick stretch of heat, and Emma immediately spreads her legs wider for a better fit, allowing him to settle. He’s thick and heavy inside of her, and Emma digs her nails into his back, holding on tight as she moves her hips to get a more perfect fit.

She is going to leave her mark with him tonight, red scars from her nails stretching across his back.

“You are wonderful.” He kisses her again, muttering soft words while his hips start moving, creating a rhythm that might just burn Emma alive, especially when Killian’s hand slides down to her arse and helps himself slide in deeper. “So fucking wonderful.”

“You are too.”

He groans above her, and his hips become that little bit more frantic as his chest hair creates friction against her breasts. This is the best Emma has felt in months, maybe even years, and she wants to chase this high for as long as she can, even as she feels herself tumbling over with each thrust of Killian’s hip and swipe of his thumb as his lips devour hers, only stopping to mutter filthy encouragements.

This is not how she expected today to go.

She wouldn’t change it for a thing.

Her skin is boiling now, and if the curtains were closed, Emma wouldn’t know it was winter outside. Sweat is slicked everywhere, but she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t care about anything except how good it feels when Killian engraves her name into the side of her neck as he succumbs to pleasure as well, his bodyweight pressing down on her, melding them from two to one.

After, Killian is gentle when he helps her clean up, and they settle underneath the blankets. Emma presses her right leg between his and rests her cheek against his collarbone as her fingers tread through the dark hair on his chest. She moves it around from where sweat has matted it, and she traces the red scars that make up so much of him. They look almost silver in the moonlight.

They look stunning.

Emma feels lips press to her temple, and she smiles, burying her face in his neck and breathing him in.

Happy. This is what happiness feels like. It’s been so long that it surprises her.

“I have to go.”

It’s like she’s been slapped.

“Sorry?”

“I have to go,” Killian repeats, but Emma can’t quite come to terms with the words. “I have…business to attend to.”

Her walls immediately come back up, brick by brick.

“You have business to attend to? Seriously? What the fuck kind of excuse is that? What? You fuck me and then leave? Were you using me because – ”

Emma pulls back away from him, sitting up and pulling the blankets with her, and Killian stays settled against the headboard, hands behind his head. “I had this business before I slept with you. Believe me, there is nothing I would rather do than stay in bed with you until I’m bloody dragged out of it, but I have to do this tonight.”

Emma scoffs and crawls out of the bed, getting finding her undergarments. “I’m coming with you.”

“Swan.”

“If I’m jumping into bed with you, I want to know the exact details of the man I’m jumping into bed with.”

He arches his brow, mouth curling into a smirk as his head nods to how exposed he is. “It may be a little too late for that now.”

Emma should be flustered, but she’s not. She’s determined that she won’t be left behind.

Her hands fall to her hips. “That depends on if you let me come with you.”

“Grab your damn coat and a scarf. You’ll freeze without them.”

“Are you a gentleman now?”

He clicks his tongue. “I’m always a gentleman.”

They take Killian’s carriage, only with him driving this time instead of the two of them sitting in the back, and they don’t speak wherever it is they’re going. Anticipation courses through her veins, gooseflesh spreading across her skin wherever it can reach, and a lump permanently lodges itself in her throat. She doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, and when they drive to a graveyard, Emma is certainly confused. When Killian grabs a shovel out of the back and leads her to his mother’s grave, her skin crawls for a reason entirely unrelated to the cold.

“She’s not buried here.”

“Oh?”

“No. I had a stone made, but she is closer to the ocean. It’s the place she loved the most.”

“Then what is – ”

Emma doesn’t bother finishing her question when she sees the gleam of guns underneath the moonlight. Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach, and for all that Emma has pushed away her thoughts of Gold and his threats lingering over her, there is no denying them now.

She found the guns.

Rather, Killian showed her.

She knows where they are, and by sunrise, she could be out of this place and out of this damn deal.

But Emma knows better than to think she’ll truly be free from Gold. He’ll find her again and bring with him new threats, and she’d be a fool to think otherwise.

Life as a moll has not seemed too bad lately, especially now that she knows how Killian feels when he kisses her, but she’s still torn between two places.

If she tells Gold where the guns are, she’ll be under his control for the rest of her life.

If she tells Killian, he’ll surely kill her.

For a moment, she contemplates a third option, one where she both keeps her breath and is able to truly live. It would never work, however. Gold would manipulate her, and she’d spend her entire life leading a double life, betraying the man who has obviously given her his trust.

The strange thing is, she has given him the same.

It’s not enough, and Emma, surrounded by all these graves, already knows she will have no headstone. There will be no one to mourn her.

She needs time to figure things out, and she’s running out of time.

Emma floats through the rest of the night, not knowing what she’s saying or doing, and when Killian leaves her at her flat with a resounding kiss that shakes her to her core, she thinks of running away with him. It should be easy. She’s been doing it her entire life.

“It’s late,” Killian whispers, “You should go inside and get some rest, but tomorrow, I have different plans for you.”

“Oh?”

He kisses her again, warming every bit of her body that is chilled. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

Emma exits his carriage and walks into her building, a smile on her face until she unlocks her door.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Fuck,” Emma mutters, her senses coming back to her as Gold stands across from her. She hasn’t seen him since the last time he broke in, but he’s here now.

It’s too late for her to run away.

She is no longer floating through tonight.

“Where have you been?” Gold asks, his voice as cold as the snow outside.

“Working.”

“I noticed that Killian Jones himself drove you home.” The floor creaks underneath him, and his cane thumps against the floor at the same beat as her heart. “Interesting that. You didn’t come from the direction of the pub either.”

“We went for a drive.” Emma takes off her coat in an attempt at nonchalance.

“To where exactly, dearie?”

“Around the town. Nowhere in particular.”

“Is that so?” He steps closer and taps his cane. Emma doesn’t have a gun on her. She can’t risk anyone finding it at work, but she knows Gold has one on him. Fuck. She doesn’t even have her knife today, and they’re both across the room where Gold is. “Would your drive happened to have gone near the cemetery?”

Emma’s skin goes colder than the outside weather could ever make it, and it is difficult to keep her breath from shallowing.

She’s been caught, and Gold is most likely going to kill her for her disloyalty to him.

“The guns are in Allison Jones’s grave.”

She had to tell him. She had no other option.

She hates herself for it.

“That is what I needed to know. Meet me in Nottingham in a week. I’ll have a new assignment for you then.”

Emma nods and backs against the wall as Gold moves around her, his hand turning the knob on her front door. “What are you going to do with the guns? Return them to Churchill?” she asks against her better judgment.

He laughs, and gooseflesh appears on her arms and down her legs, pebbling her skin as nausea settles in her throat. “Well, I’m going to return them to Churchill, of course, but not before I have a little fun with Killian Jones. Wouldn’t you know that a gang leader was mysteriously shot in his home in the middle of the night? Must have been one of his many enemies that did it.”

“Why?” Emma whispers.

Gold smiles. “Jones is known for sleeping with another man’s wife years ago, and well, I was that other man.”

And then he’s gone, limping out of the room with that slow, aching walk of his. Emma feels as if she’s been slapped across the cheek by his cane, and she immediately turns to her sink, releasing her insides and heaving, waiting for her breath to come back.

It never truly does.

Gold’s carriage sputters to life outside as Emma heaves once more, and even though her brain is functioning at half of its capacity, she knows what she needs to do.

She has to tell Killian.

Everyone in town knows what he does is illegal, but there’s no proof of his family’s crimes. They make it all as legal as possible through their legitimate businesses, and often the local coppers are on their side.

Gold, Churchill, and the Constabulary on not on their side.

Gold is going to murder him just like he murdered his wife.

Emma grabs her coat, shrugging it on as she runs out the door, and she wishes she had a carriage. She doesn’t however, so as snow falls down around her, Emma runs through the streets of Birmingham, taking the alleys she frequents so often, to get to Killian’s home. She’s only been there a few times, nearly all of it for business reasons, but she knows the way.

Her lungs are heavy, her breath short, and her feet ache from the heels of her boots. She imagines frostbite is hitting her toes, but she can’t stop. She was foolish and allowed herself to develop feelings for this man, to fall in love with him in the midst of all her protests otherwise, and she can’t let him get arrested.

She certainly cannot allow him to be murdered. Gold has an agenda against him, and Emma knows the only reason Killian isn’t dead is because he wanted the guns first to cover up his crimes.

Fuck.

When Emma comes across the house, she runs into the door, banging her fist against the wood before picking up the clapper and hitting it. It seems like hours before anyone comes to the door, but eventually someone does, Lee opening it with his gun in his hand.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he grumbles.

“Where’s your brother?”

“If you’re here to fuck him, you’ll have to get in line.”

“What?” Emma gawks, her heart still pounding. She knows he’s fucking with her, but of all the people she doesn’t fully trust, Lee Jones is near the top of the list. She’s heard Killian talk about his similarities to their father too much to think of him as trustworthy. “No, it doesn’t matter. I need to talk to Killian.”

“If it’ll get you to be quiet, fine. First door on the right upstairs.”

Emma nods and hurries up the stairs, her steps as loud as a heard of elements, and while she does hesitate to enter his room because of Lee’s words, she still does. He’s sitting in his bed, alone, and now is really not the time for her to be focusing on how Lee is constantly trying to fuck with her because he spent too much time with their arse of a father.

“Swan? Bloody hell. What are you doing here?”

She may get murdered for this, but she’s trusting that she won’t. Maybe he’ll understand that she’s done him wrong in the past, but she’s trying to save his life now.

“Robert Gold.”

Killian immediately sits straighter and moves the blankets off him until he’s standing in front of her, looming. “How do you know that name?”

Emma rolls her shoulders back, the adrenaline pushing her words forward.

“I got pregnant when I was sixteen, and I didn’t have a job or a family. I had nothing. I heard of this man who could help with discreet adoptions, get the baby into a good home, you know? So I went to Robert Gold, and he took care of me and my baby, and he found the kid a family who could love him. I believed I didn’t owe him any debts, but he’s threatened to hurt me and my son if I don’t do what he says. I don’t think he’d hurt the kid anymore because I now know the kid’s parents are in the government, but I know he’ll hurt me.”

Emma starts pacing. She can’t look at Killian. She cannot look at the blue she loves so much because it is surely about to turn black while looking at her.

That would break her heart.

“I’ve been working for him. This entire time. He had me gain employ at your pub to learn the location of the guns you stole from the arms factory. All this time I thought it was because Churchill wanted them so they could send them to where they were intended. But tonight Gold was in my flat after following us to the cemetery, and he told me you had slept with his wife, which means the man who shot his wife and your lover in front of you was Gold. He’s going after the guns, Killian. He’s going to get them, and then he’s coming here to either kill you for your crimes against him or arrest you for your crimes against the Crown. Either way, he’s going to kill you.”

Emma doesn’t notice the silence between them as her heart is still pounding like the loudest of drums, but the silence is surely there, being filled second by second with Killian’s rage toward her and toward Gold.

She gained his trust, and then she betrayed him.

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispers, his voice as even keeled as she’s ever heard it.

She nearly falls to the ground at the sound of it.

“Pardon?”

“Turn around and look at me.” Emma braces her shoulders and turns, having no idea what she’s about to see, but she imagines it will be a low-burning fury. She’s wrong. “If you were anyone else in the world, I would have your head for this. I don’t take betrayals lightly, and I will not take this one lightly even though I understand what it is like to be under Gold's thumb. Do not be fooled. But for fucks sake, Emma, I love you. I haven’t loved a woman since Milah was taken from me, but I love you. I also believe all sins can be forgiven when you love someone, but that does not mean I forgive you tonight.”

Emma doesn’t know what to do or think.

There are too many thoughts stampeding in her mind, and she isn’t caught up with it enough to process it all. For now, all she can think is she isn’t dead.

But Killian may be soon.

“What are you going to do about Gold?” Emma asks even when she meant to say something else entirely. She meant to say the three words that reside at the tip of her tongue, but they keep being pushed back.

More important matters are at hand.

“How long ago did he leave your flat to go after the guns?”

“I don’t know. I ran here as soon as he left.”

Killian nods and cups her cheek, kissing her soundly, before he turns around and starts pulling luggage from his drawers before quickly grabbing onto clothes. “Find a few warm things for you. Quickly.”

“Why? What the hell is happening?”

“It’s not safe for us here. We have to go until I can figure something out. There isn’t time to ask every bloody question.”

Lee comes rushing into the room at the same time that Emma grabs a thick blanket and some of Killian’s shirts and what she can only assume are clothes women left here. She doesn’t have much time to process that particular fact. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

“We have to go. Gold is coming after us. Pack a bag and start the carriage.”

“What about Liam? He’s in France. We have to warn him.”

“Liam isn’t set to come back until February. We’ll have time to get him a message. Gold is only coming after me for now. Go, go, we don’t have much time.”

“I thought we didn’t run from a challenge.”

Killian’s jaw clenches, and he turns to face his younger brother. “We’re not running. We’re allowing me to conjure a plan so we don’t get our heads blown off. Fucking go or I’ll leave you here!”

Lee nods, and then he’s out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway for a quick moment before he’s heading out the door and the carriage turns on with a rumble. Emma’s collected enough clothes to last her weeks, and she watches as Killian stashes money into his suitcase before handing some to her.

“For if we get separated,” he explains.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a place in mind, but I can’t tell you yet. Now, come on, go get in the carriage. He works fast, and he shows no mercy, as I’m sure you know. Don’t worry, love. We’ll be fine. I’m a survivor.”

Killian’s hand finds Emma’s back, and as they walk down the stairs, she takes in the beauty of his home. A lot of love has been put into it, and by all accounts, it looks more like a house than a home.

Emma would have liked to have this place as a home. She’s still aching for that place she can call her own.

Now is not the time to think of that.

The cold hits her when they walk outside, and it doesn’t fade away when she climbs into the carriage next to Killian, Lee sitting behind them. Emma clutches onto her luggage, her knuckles white but her fingers pink, and Killian quickly reaches down and hands her a pair of gloves. She takes them without protest, and in the dead of night, she begins moving with the Jones brothers, leaving a white-covered Birmingham behind them.

She doesn’t know what’s going to happen to anyone, not to William or Rob or any of the other Jones Corporation associates. Gold will surely go after them to try to learn of Killian’s whereabouts, hers too, but there’s not time to drive to their homes and tell them. They’re smart and resourceful. They’ll figure things out. At least, Emma hopes so.

There’s no way for them to avoid Gold forever. Emma knows firsthand that he has connections across Europe with his ties to the government, and he’ll never stop until he gets to Killian. She has so many questions about what happened between Killian and Gold’s wife, a woman he obviously loved, but now is not the time for questions when she’s being driven to who knows where, every breath she bringing her one closer to her last.

Now is not the time for a lot of things, but since she didn’t say it earlier, Emma whispers a quiet “I love you,” not knowing if Killian or the wind catches it.

When he places his hand on her thigh, the comforting movement he’s been doing for months now, she thinks she knows.

Emma’s exhausted, but she dares not fall asleep. Instead she sits silently, Killian’s hand still on her thigh, and she watches the sun rise, bright lights reflecting against the pureness of some of the snow. In some places, it is nothing more than slush, but in others, it is beautiful. She can smell water around them, the salt of the ocean becoming clearer with each passing minute, and eventually, she can see the budding activity in a port, a large ship waiting in the water as people walk on board.

“Where are we going?” Emma asks.

Killian turns to her and flashes a tired but bright smile. “America, my love.”

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[writefinch]

Cheerleader Ransom Pt.2

(CN: noncon, bondage, M+f, facefucking, cum swallowing, cum bringing-back-up)

The second day's video began with a shot of Hannah kneeling with her back against a steel pole, her ankles, wrists, and elbows strapped together behind it. She still wore her tattered and cum-stained OSU cheerleading uniform, torn where the men had roughly pulled it away to grope her tits and groin, her skirt hiked high to show the tray of rice under her bare knees.

The rubber hood was gone, and her face was free of both makeup and bodily fluids. Her wringing-wet hair and pale skin indicated that she'd either had a bucket of water thrown over her head, or her head shoved into a bucket until she was somewhat cleaner. The tops of her cheeks bulged out under tightly-wrapped black bandages, securing some kind of gag in her mouth.

The leader stepped into frame and patted her head. "Morning, Rob. We hosed her down before we started shooting. Sorry if you wanted to see what she looked like when we took the hood off. She looked real miserable with all that half-dried spit and spunk on her face, but we didn't want to grab onto her head with it all sticky and slimy and to be honest she kinda stank.

"Like I said yesterday, Day Two is where the fucking starts. Today we're taking a crack at her mouth, so if you really crap a miracle and get our money together you might be able to keep her cunt in a somewhat-virginal state. Then again, you're seeing these tapes almost a day late, so by the time you watch this, I'll probably be balls deep in your daughter's gash, not that I'm complaining..."

Reaching down, he unwrapped the bandages around her face and revealed a ring gag underneath. He stuck his fingers into her mouth and pulled two spit-soaked knee-high socks from her mouth. She coughed and took a deep, steady breath, but flinched as he stroked her cheek, drool running out of the gag and down her chin.

The leader then took out a strange device, a stretchy ring of neon-pink silicone that resembled a headband, with a disc-shaped bulge protruding from one part. He stretched the ring and pulled it over Hannah's head, where the silicone band fitted neatly over the strap of the ring gag, and the protrusion fit through the ring of the gag like a plug in a sink. The camera zoomed in on the object now over her mouth: a piece of soft plastic shaped in a realistic imitation of a vagina. The leader ran his fingers up and down the plastic lips before pushing them into the cleft; Hannah's eyes went wide and she gagged. When he withdrew his fingers, they came out covered in spit, which he wiped off on her face.

"Do you like it, Rob? We're using her mouth as a fleshlight today so we thought we'd make it look like the real thing. We don't trust her to suck out cocks yet, and I'd hate to have to remove all those shiny white teeth with a set of pliers just because she tried biting—you paid a lot for the orthodontic work, after all. But we don't want to waste a day of training, after all, it's pretty easy if all she's doing is staying still and getting her mouth fucked. So we're going to give her a challenge in self-discipline. She's got to keep everything we feed her down, and if it comes back up, it goes back down again.

The leader smirked. "Of course there's only thirty of us, so by the time we're finished her stomach will barely be full, and where's the challenge in that? We're going to feed her something to get started."

He reached his hand out of shot, and it returned holding an enema syringe filled with a pint of opaque, off-white fluid. He screwed an attachment onto the end of the syringe: a four-inch long purple dildo, with a plastic knot bulging an inch from the base. When he applied a careful push to the plunger, dozens of tiny, milky-white beads welled up on the glans of the dildo, oozing out from pinprick holes in the silicone.

"Are you hungry, Hannah?"

Her garbled protestations that she was not earned her a firm slap. Another man came into frame, stood behind her, gripped her sodden hair with force and held her head straight while the leader pushed the dildo-syringe into her mouth. When the knot slipped between the silicone lips it formed a watertight seal, and as he depressed the plunger, her cheeks quickly bulged out.

He stuck a clothespin on her nose to prevent it from shooting up through her sinuses and said, "Cringe all you want, but if you don't start swallowing it'll go down your lungs, and you won't like that one bit, sweetheart."

With a defeated gulp, the first mouthful slid down her throat. He filled her cheeks again and forced her to swallow a second time. On the third swallow, he removed the clothespin and allowed her to take a few breaths. "We stole this yummy treat from a sperm bank near your college, maybe you'll recognize some of the donors?" She scrunched her eyes shut in disgust, but continued to swallow as he pumped the rest of it into her mouth. After ten gulps the syringe was empty, and a trail of sperm and spit hung between the tip of the dildo and the lips of the fake pussy.

The leader walked off-screen and returned a moment later having re-filled the syringe with another pint of fluid, the same colour but more watery. He held the tip of the dildo back against her gag, rubbing it up and down, taunting her. "Now, this pint came from a very different sperm bank to the other one," he said as he forced it into her mouth. "I'm sure you won't recognize it, but that Ashlynn girl who left the cheerleading squad last year after that hot little home video of hers got leaked, she might recognize it!"

Hannah's eyes went wide and she gave a muffled scream of revulsion and terror, but it was soon muted to a gurgle as the pressure within her mouth forced her to guzzle down the fluid. As she struggled, the man behind her strapped a plastic bucket to her chest and tied a wipe-clean silicone bib around her neck leading down into the bucket. When the leader finished feeding her, Hannah took deep, careful breaths with long pauses between them, obviously struggling to avoid throwing up.

The leader fished his half-hard cock out from his fly and gave it a few strokes until it was fully stiff, his foreskin sliding back and over the head, a bead of precum glistening at the very tip. "I've got first dibs and I don't want to keep the rest of the boys waiting, even if Blondie is there to entertain them."

The camera panned to the crowd of waiting kidnappers, thirty men in all-black clothes and black balaclavas. At the front of the pack, a fair-haired boy of barely twenty years was on his knees, stroking the cocks of two men, and pleasing a third with his mouth. His hair was tied back in uneven pigtails, which bobbed up and down in motion with his head. "He's a cutie," said the leader. "He tried ripping some guys off over an eight-hundred dollar weed deal, can you imagine that? We taught him a lesson, pretty similar to the one we're teaching your girl, but since he didn't have a rich daddy to bail him out, he's been turning tricks for us ever since. Usually he'd be on a street corner at this time of day, but we wanted to keep him here for cleanup."

He ambled up to Hannah and rested the tip of his cock against her plastic lips. "Hey, look up at me." With a whimper, she obeyed. He spat in her eye, and buried his cock in her mouth. "Eat a dick, bitch."

He fucked her face at a slow, careful pace, luxuriating in the involuntary movements of her tongue over his shaft, probing the back of her mouth until her resistance crumbled and his cock slipped into her throat. His pace grew, first enthusiastic and then frenetic until he came, his balls pressed to her chin and her nose buried in his wiry pubic hair. He gave a few more slow, careful strokes until his cock was no longer hard enough to easily push through the lips of the fleshlight and then pulled out entirely. As he did, a trickle of sperm ran out of the plastic vagina, dripped down onto the bib, and fell into the bucket below.

"See, wasn't that easy?" He patted the abject girl's hair. "Twenty-nine more to go and you'll be fine." He turned his head and shouted, "Blondie! Get your ass over here and clean me up."

As the leader walked out of shot, another man rushed past him and began raping Hannah's mouth. This one wasted no time with slow, testing strokes, instead grabbing her head in two massive hands and thrusting violently into her mouth. As his grunts of excitement grew in intensity, he pulled out so that only the tip remained in her mouth and stroked his shaft until he climaxed, forcing her to taste every drop of his sperm before swallowing it.

The third man made his introduction by slapping his thick, uncut, and obviously unclean cock on her face. He rubbed the tip under her nose, and as she began visibly dry-heaving, he pushed it in through the fleshlight and told her to start licking. Only once he was satisfied that she was trying to clean him with her tongue did he start thrusting, fucking her mouth as she twitched and whimpered before pressing in deep to cum down her throat. When he was spent, he pulled out but only until the head remained in her mouth.

For a moment, Hannah seemed to have calmed herself, staring forward into nothing and breathing deeply but steadily. Then, she shuddered. Her eyes scrunched shut. Her cheeks bulged.

A line of cum shot out of her nose.

The crowd of men hooted and laughed, and the one with his cock still resting in her mouth spat on her face again, and told her to swallow. Once the backwash slid back down her throat he pulled out, wiped his cock clean in his hand, and wiped his hand clean on her face.

The fourth kidnapper had a long, slender dick that easily slid down her throat in a single push, and after three thrusts it started bringing cum back up with it. The recycled semen spewed out between the lips of the fleshlight as he fucked her, running down her bib and into the bucket. He pulled out entirely to let more pour out, gripping her hair viciously as she retched and brought up more of the vile stuff from her belly, but when the flow trailed off there was barely a cup's worth in the bucket, so he thrust back in to make her bring up even more. By the time he finished cumming in her mouth, a pint of spewed-up cum sloshed around in the bottom of the bucket.

The next man shoved the dildo attachment into her mouth, detached the syringe, filled it with the contents of the bucket, and pumped the mess back into her mouth. Hannah wailed in despair and disgust as she was forced to drink down the sour cocktail of cum, spit, and bile. As soon as he removed the dildo out she threw up again, but he was so impatient and horny that he ignored it and pushed his cock into the cum-spewing gag. He had more self-restraint than the previous men, raping her throat methodically and carefully, firmly pushing his cock inside inch by inch until her lips were crushed into his pubic bone and then pulling his entire length back out in a lightning-fast stroke, alternating firm, grinding, balls-deep plunges with rapid-fire tonsil-bruising twitch-thrusts, pausing every time that she could no longer contain her retching to allow the white slime to pour out from her gag into the bucket. His only goal seemed to be to empty out her stomach more thoroughly than the previous men, and he didn't cum in her mouth until most of the two pints were in the bucket. He slapped her belly a few times, hard enough to leave pale-pink handprints. Another man approached with the syringe in hand, and she was fed the cum a third time before the next man started.

The men were now so horny that they stopped feeding her after each man, instead following one after another. In the whole time between the fifth and the fifteenth man raping her face, Hannah's mouth was free from cock for less than a minute of it. When the twentieth man finished with her, they forced the contents of the bucket down her gullet again. When she'd swallowed it all, they left the dildo in her mouth to prevent her from immediately throwing it all back up.

The camera panned to show Blondie entertaining the men, licking clean the last man to have used Hannah, stroking the cocks of two men who were waiting, and getting fucked in his ass by another man. The man fucking his ass pulled out, walked over to Hannah, and stuck his ass-and-lube-flavored dick in her mouth.

The leader laughed from out of frame. "Hah! Bet that one tastes good, huh?"

She was barely conscious as the last ten men used her, taking breaks to allow her to breathe, slapping her and holding smelling salts under her nose when she passed out, brutally fucking her mouth the second she snapped upright in pain. Her stomach was near-empty when the thirtieth man finished with her and her retching brought up nothing, but the leader stepped up and raped her throat again to ensure they'd got it all up. He pulled out entirely to jerk off on her face, which slid off the mess of spit, tears and cum, directly into the slop-bucket below.

The men ungagged her and untied her arms. Her jaw hung open, every testing movement causing her to flinch in pain, and her hands twitched and flexed weakly. When the leader leaned down to speak into her ear, she didn't have the strength to shy away.

"Look at you, champ," he said. "Not many girls can blow thirty men in a sitting, especially not on their first time. You made us all very happy, and you're going to make us happy tomorrow, and the day after, and you'll keep making us happy until your daddy pays up. But that's not important, what's important is that you need to rest up, maybe even in a bed. You need to eat some real food, drink some water, and stretch out on a cot without all these nasty straps and ropes. Would you like that?"

She nodded weakly. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was too raw, and all that came out was a raspy sob.

The leader took her hands in his and carefully, gently, pressed them to the sides of the bucket. "All you need to do," he whispered, "is drink the slop bucket. On your own, no one forcing you. I'll hold the bottom so you don't drop it, but you've got to drink it all by yourself, like a big girl. Just do this and you get to rest until tomorrow, do you understand?"

Hannah looked as if she was about to cry, but no tears came. The leader stroked her hair. "You'll be fine, I promise, there's nothing in that bucket that hasn't been in your tummy already. Just don't wait too long, I don't want my boys to get too excited and want another go."

Her arms were too weak to lift the bucket, but she steered it as the leader held it, and she began to drink. Her face went from bleak acceptance as she opened her mouth to swallow, to sheer disgust after one mouthful, cringing harder as she swallowed again, and a third time, and a fifth time. Her cheeks bulged from the last mouthful, but this time she did not swallow it down. The men around her oohed and aahed in mock-anticipation, she steeled herself to gulp, her gullet moved—

She vomited the moment the bucket hit the floor, the leader steadying it to avoid spilling it entirely. All the men laughed, and the leader cooed in mock-sympathy.

"Okay, maybe you'll need a few tries to get it right, but don't worry, you've got all night to keep trying." He stood up and looked directly into the camera. "Hey Robert, I don't want you to get bored so I'll end the tape now. Sorry if you wanted to see the whole thing, but hey, tomorrow you'll get to watch us break in her tight little snatch!"

The video picked up the sound of Hannah dry-heaving before cutting to black.

(Part 3 here: https://writefinch.tumblr.com/post/649254383657287680/cheerleader-ransom-pt3-cn-noncon-bondage) 

[peachyteabuck]

trouble looks for me [thorkyrie x reader]

summary: valkyrie has no choice but to break a promise, so you have no choice but to misbehave. thor, well, he’s just along for the ride.

pairing: thor odinson x valkyrie x reader

words: 6,666

trigger warnings: sub!thor, brat taming, spanking, degradation, orgasm denial, creampies, strap ons

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

It starts at the restaurant. Valkyrie had been working non-stop to fit in everything she had needed before the end of the fiscal year, leaving you and Thor with her for weeks on end.

In combination with Valkyrie’s strict rules, this also meant you and Thor had touched each other, let alone made each other cum since…Oh god, you can’t even remember…

You’d both gotten a text from her that day, telling you to get ready for a fancy dinner and that she would pick you up at precisely seven.

That left you with five hours to get ready which, to some may have been a lot, but for you…

As with most men, Thor doesn’t take long to get ready – even if it took him a solid forty-five minutes to choose the correct pair of panties (he settles on a baby pink pair with a small, white bow. By the time he was tucking his pristine white shirt into them, you were just finishing up your eyebrows and foundation – let alone had you picked your outfit.

You had narrowed it down to three dresses – a deep blue, thigh-length long-sleeved one with a deep V-neck and makes your legs look superb, a little black dress with tiny straps that leave nothing to the imagination, or a baby pink, floor-length gown with a fitted top that shows off your shoulders and tits and whose skirt flows behind you just as waves recede from a beach at dusk.

(It doesn’t take you long to choose that last one, to say the least. Plus, it matches Thor’s panties. How couldn’t you choose that dress! How!?)

You gingerly place it on the bed as you go back to your bright vanity, placing your numerous eyeshadow pallets and lipstick choices in front of you so you have an accurate view of your make up-related choices for the night. You’ve done looks like this before, played the cute, coy girl many times. Still, you like to make sure everything is perfect – the eyeliner and the eye shadow and your brows and your lips and your highlighter. It all has to be perfectly placed on your face to ensure maximum balance between ��totally gorgeous” and “totally fuckable.”

It was ten minutes to the approximate time Val had said she’d pick you up when you’re notified of what could possibly be the worst news ever.

Hey loves, so sorry but a colleague needs some more convincing on a budget proposal. He’ll be joining us tonight for dinner.

You groan loudly, but immediately cease when you receive another text.

That means you both need to be on your best behavior.

You smirk as you go back to adjusting the bracelet Val had gotten you during your vacation to Boca last year. No matter what, no matter who joined you and your lovers, tonight was going to be fun, and whether or not this a blew back in your face was not a problem.

Well, at least not your problem, and at least not now.

You finish getting ready with the fire of vengeance deep in your stomach, jaw set and eyes narrowed as you get the text from Valkyrie saying she was outside waiting with your dishonorable guest (your words, not hers).

You greeted the older man with a curt nod bordering on polite. Luckily, he pays more attention to Thor, moving to shake his hand despite the award angle.

If it were any other context you’d spit in his face, make a passive aggressive comment, something more than all but ignore him as you cross your arms and slump against the fancy leather seating with a small huff. Either Valkyrie pretends not to notice, or she’s too busy allowing Thor to work his patented charms to watch your every move.

Either way, it makes your sour mood that much worse.

The car ride is long, meant originally so that Val could tease you and Thor while she drove (and because all of the closer restaurants may or may not have you banned for life, but that feels like an unimportant detail as you huff and pout in the back of the car). The ride, one you fully expected to be electrifying and fun and full of very unsubtle teasing, is mind-numbingly boring. Valkyrie and the Mystery Man are talking about numbers and other things you don’t care about, the former obviously trying to keep her cool as a man who thinks he knows more than her attempts to explain something she has a master’s degree in. You’re sure that if she could channel you during a particularly bad day to scream and claw at him she would, but no. She’s a professional woman at the top of her field attempting to expertly yield power. For Valkyrie, there is no lashing out; there is no way to regain control once she loses it.

Part of you respects her immensely for this: you acutely know what it’s like to be belittled and demeaned by people who should know better. She’s a bisexual woman of color in a predominately white, male field. Her job is hard, dealing with the men she works with harder. You and Thor listen diligently to her post-work day rants and desire for revenge, help her destress in any number of ways. This part of you wants to snap his neck so he never bothers her again, taking your rightful place as the devil forever keeping watch over her shoulder.

The other part of you wants to snap his neck so that he would leave you and your lovers the fuck alone. Is it too much to ask that you have a nice dinner with Valkyrie and Thor – a dinner where the only thing that could mess with the night’s activities is you!?

As you listen to the man explain what a “tight job market” is again, you wish you could bang your head against the tinted, bulletproof glass so hard you would pass out.

Yes. You think. Yes, it is much too much to ask.

It’s not even thirty seconds later when you get the most magnificent idea. Thor’s not paying attention to you, either, watching the world pass by outside as he thinks about…whatever it is runs through his mind when he’s trying to block out people’s voices.

You wait for the conversation to become loud and thick with tension to strike – knowing neither of the people in the front seat will be paying much attention to whatever it is will happen between you and him. When the time is right, you run your hand over his clothed cock, skin alive with electricity as you feel it twitch.

“You shouldn’t tease me like that,” he hisses low in your ear. “It’ll get you in trouble.”

You just smiled, painted lips twisting into a faux pout and big eyes widening purposefully. “You promise?”

You continue to tease him, sneaking your hand into his pants just to hear his breath hitch. You lean once more, just as your fingers brush over his lace-covered cock.

“I’m getting wet just thinking about you,” you whisper. “Thinking about you coming in your pants before this fancy dinner.”

“If you do that, I’ll cum,” Thor growls lowly, desperate to keep it from Val’s ears.

You smile just as before, leaning close so your perfectly painted lips touch the shell of his ear. “Is that a dare?”

He narrows his eyes at you, trying to remain subtle as Val and the unexpected guest talk about break evens, or something equally boring.

“Seriously, you could get in trouble if you keep doing that!” he whispers, voice pointed.

You just look at him, eyes ablaze with mischief. “Oh, so it’s a challenge.”

Thor just glares at you before turning to look back outside, biting his lip and trying to find a distraction as your hands go down his pants. “Does it make you hard,” you whisper back. “knowing I could do anything I want to you right now? Does is make you hard knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop me?”

Thor’s jaw tenses, but he says nothing back.

“C’mon,” you tease. “Don’t you want to have a little fun with me?”

He shakes his head but says nothing. You huff, baring your teeth a little while you stare daggers into him.

Thor only speaks when Valkyrie’s tone becomes pointed once more, easily covering his own voice. “S-she’ll catch us!” he hisses.

You roll your eyes, fully aware there’s no way either of the people he’s talking about how any interest in either of you. They’re both stubborn, bullheaded, determined to win whatever standoff is happening between the two of them. To consider that they would just turn around to check on you or Thor is ridiculous, to say the least.

There’s no reason they’d look back and see you with one hand down Thor’s pants, the other spread across his thigh; there’s no chance they’d see his eyes screwed shut and his lips barely parted or your wicked grin.

Still, you fun is cut short when the restaurant pulls into view, making you wretch yourself away from Thor while he tucked himself back into his pants and tried to calm the deep blush that had spread across his face. It’s useless, though, because as Valkyrie hands the keys to the valet neither she nor the unwanted guest take a single look at you.  

You roll your eyes as you’re seated at a rounded table in a far corner of the restaurant, you and Thor on one side with Valkyrie and her colleague on the other.

It’s annoying, so annoying. Watching her pay attention to that man, that fucking colleague instead of you. She promised – she promised! – that all of it would be over, that her deadline and goals were going to be met and done and finished and she’d put away her work life for one night to pay attention to you!

(And Thor. But whatever.)

She and the…male…are talking in that tone you recognize from those mind-numbing political dramas Val loves so much. It’s nice, courteous, but fake enough to be sold on Canal Street and threatening enough that it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Needless to say, you don’t like it very much, don’t like it very much at all. You have this indescribable urge to use your perfectly done, almond shaped matte nails to claw into his face – marking him for all to see how easily he was taken down by little ole you.

A similar itty bitty voice wants to fake a medical emergency and order an UberX and to get as far away from him as possible and then fake a slightly more extreme medical emergency every other time you are forced to be around him. There’s just something…slimey about him that you can’t place, like cooked chicken that’s gone bad. It makes you wrinkle your nose each time you have the misfortune of catching him in your eyeline. Thor notices, his face softening as he takes a drink from his glass of ice water.

“You see it, too?” he asks, ducking his head low so to remain unheard by the slimeball in question.

You wrinkle your nose, angling your neck back to whisper in his ear. “I can feel it.”

Thor lets out a small snort before turning back to his first course. You don’t know what he ordered, and don’t care to pick at what Val ordered for you. It becomes obvious halfway through Val’s salad that neither of them – neither of the high powered people in front of you – are paying you any mind. The coworker asks Thor what he does for a living and he’s given the usual lie, that Thor’s a grad student. He doesn’t ask you anything, only giving you a once over before licking his lips and taking a long drink of his expensive red wine.

If you ever wanted to kill someone, right then was the peak of those urges.

It doesn’t take long for you to become a tad more comfortable, a tad of tenseness falling from your shoulders. Almost worse than being uncomfortable, you had become bored. And that, simply, will not do.

The easiest target, Thor, remains unphased by your change in demeanor – either not noticing or choosing not to react. It doesn’t matter his reasoning, you know he’s simple, uncomplicated prey. If the years you’ve known him hadn’t proved that, the incident in the car certainly did.

The next hour or so passes in a blur, the man leaving just before dessert; citing some work emergency or needing to get back to his wife and kids or something else you don’t care to pay attention to (though you do notice he doesn’t offer to pay his portion of the check. Even Valkyrie seems annoyed about that). He’s waved away with a curt goodbye, tense words of rehearsed professionalism exchanged as he waits for his UberX to arrive. It’s uncomfortable to say the least, and you silently rejoice when he finally exits the building.

The second he’s out of sight, though, you’re grabbed by the back of your neck and dragged so your nose touches Val’s.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” she hisses, teeth bared and jaw tense.

You’re stunned by the action, but not enough to not give her a small, wicked smile along with a small, “no.”

Just as Valkyrie’s about to retaliate, the waiter comes around the corner to deliver the dessert menu. She lets go of you immediately, pretending (just as the scrawny waiter is) that no one witnessed the interaction as the waiter begins to rattle off the night’s specials. The three of you choose something different with the same fake smile plastered over your face, one that drops the second he returns to…wherever it is waiters and waitresses go once they’re done talking to customers.

Val turns to you once more, grabbing your knee through the fabric of your dress – a warning. “Just you fucking wait until we get home. If you keep being a brat, you’ll regret it.”

You don’t respond, instead taking a sip of your ice water in a cup that’s one step down from a wine glass. You’re exactly where you want to be, why would you apologize, try to walk back your actions or plead for forgiveness? Now that Valkyrie was giving you the attention you were playing for, there was nothing you felt the need to explain.

The rest of the meal is nice, easy – you all ordered different desserts and pass spoonfuls of each dish between the three of you. It’s nice and sweet, a direct contrast to the sharpness Val had demonstrated just minute before. All three of you continue in your happy little bubble all the way home, cute and smiling and confusing the old heterosexual couples in the restaurant as you sit and leave together.

It all melts away, though, when you get inside the house.

The second you cross the threshold; Val grabs you by the arm and pulls you close to her. You yelp, more in surprise than pain – either way, she ignores you.

“Get your ass in the bedroom and stand at your place, facing the corner, while I wait for you,” she hisses, teeth barred. You whimper when she pushes you away, stumbling up the steps as you scutter off. You fear if you stay or so much as mumble a dissent, she’ll issue a much harsher punishment than the one she’s already planning. Given the anger in her face, you shudder at the thought.

Thor remains just inside the door, hands at his side and awaiting instruction.

Val only turns to him when you were out of sight. He stands there, cock hardening once more in his dress pants while her eyes bear into his.

One of her hands goes to cup his cheek, thumbing over his light stubble. “How are you so well-behaved and she’s like that?”

Thor just gives a small shrug before following the woman he loves up the stairs, trailing behind her as she navigates the prime wood floors despite her high heels and sour mood.

When she arrives in the room she exhales slowly through her nose, not necessarily happy to find you in the place she specified – but at least she hasn’t been disappointed once more tonight.

“Turn around,” she instructs you. You huff and cross your arms over your chest but do as you’re told. “Now, watch what could happen to you if you chose to behave.”

Valkyrie goes to unlock the special drawer at the top of her custom dresser, the solid gold key held on an anklet she wears all day every day. From it she takes Thor’s special collar – the deep blue one with solid white trimmings and PROPERTY OF BRUNNHILDE engraved into a small placard that rests in the center.

Thor accepts the mark of ownership[ with ease and it makes you want to roll your eyes. He’s always one to give in easy, who lives to be dominated. At the first sign of Valkyrie’s dominance, he opens his mouth eagerly for a gag, wiggles his ass for spankings, tilts his neck back to be choked. It’s pathetic, and Val loves it.

“Aw, I’ve barely touched you,” she smiles. “Why are you already opening your mouth, you needy thing.”

Thor just whines high in his throat, pleading up at her as he keeps his position on the floor. He wasn’t asked a question so he can’t respond, can’t speak – all he can do is sit there and hope she takes pity on him and gives him whatever it is he wants, needs.

For now, though, she’s got something more pressing to deal with. She sighs before turning to you in the corner, your nose pressed where the two white walls meet with arms at your side. Below your feet is a light pink mat demarking where you are supposed to be, where Val makes sure you stay when you’re waiting to be punished. If you had done something less bad you might have been able to face outward, but no. Not only had you behaved incredibly poorly, you had dragged Thor into your pitiful little game.

Thor – Val’s golden boy. He’s the apple of her eye, the sun after a storm. Thor’s always good, always perfect; always follows rules and does the right thing and never, ever talks back. He’s always her first pick as a plus-one for parties because he’s so wonderful and charming and can make any man or woman or pet fall head over heels for him. He’s like a fucking golden retriever and you hate him for it.

The worst part about that special, untouched crystal tchotchke of a man is that you’re never allowed touch him, to smudge him with the oil that pools on the pads of your fingers. Each time you see him – all shiny and new like a Tiffany bracelet just out of the packaging – you feel like a child dragged to a fancy art museum, forced to keep her hands in her pockets as adults gaze at timeless works of art.

It infuriates you, and she knows that.

Valkyrie pushes you down to the ground, teeth barred. “Get on your knees and keep your hands behind you, you stupid slut.”

You do as you’re told, bratty façade breaking away.

“Aw, look,” Valkyrie coos to Thor, sarcasm dripping from each word. “Our dumb little whore can follow directions! Isn’t that surprising?”

Thor, always one to follow directions, says nothing in return.

Valkyrie hmms happily at his obedience before turning back to you.

“Are you nervous, baby girl?” she asks. You nod slightly. “You should be. You’ve been a very bad little slut.”

Silently, one hand moves to cradle one side of your jaw, while the other pulls back just to land on your cheek in a sharp SLAP!

You cry out at the sharp pain but still squeeze your thighs together to quell the deep heat in your center.

Valkyrie laughs, lips forming into a sneer. “Just a little pain is getting that little pussy wet, isn’t it?”

Your mouth goes off faster than your brain can process. “I’m still turned on from fucking with your baby boy in the restaurant bathroom.”

SMACK!

Valkyrie slaps the other cheek, speaking over your cries of pain. “If I hit harder, will you be a good girl?”

You cower, too terrified to respond.

“Hm…” Valkyrie hums, unimpressed. “Do you like being punished?” she asks, looking down at you with har arms crossed.

You shake your head.

Val just smirks. “So if I checked right now, you wouldn’t be wet?”

You gulp and cast your eyes downward. Still, she continues.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” she spits. “Do you even know why?”

She doesn’t wait for a nonresponse before continuing.

“It’s because deep down you’re just waiting for someone to put you in your fucking place.”

You gulp, but don’t deny it.

“Stand up,” Val hisses, watching as you struggle to get to your feet. As soon as you’re back on your feet she strips you, taking off your dress and then your shoes, leaving you in your lingerie.

Doesn’t even take the time to notice you matching Thor…she really is pissed.

“Spoiled little slut,” Valkyrie hisses. “You just need someone with a firm hand to teach you a fuckin’ lesson, don’t you?”

You swallow, petrified. “I’m sorry.”

Val raises a single eyebrow, but keeps her arms folded. A small victory. “You’re sorry?”

You nod. “Yes.”

She narrows her eyes. “Sorry what?”

“Sorry-“you hesitate, terrified of saying the wrong thing.

“Daddy,” Valkyrie instructs.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you mumble.

She narrows her eyes once more and you scramble to correct your mistake.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say, straightening your back to enable you to look her dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry for being bad, Daddy.”

Valkyrie just hmms, tapping her foot against the hardwood  floor. “You know that alone isn’t going to convince me to forgive you, right?”

You cower away from her, shaking your head. “No, Daddy.”

“Well,” she sighs, looking to Thor – who just gives her a light shrug, just as before. Like most men, he never knows what to do with you. “I’ll just have to take you over my knee, won’t I?”

You gulp. Over the knee always lead to something more – something worse. You’re terrified to find out what that might be.

Val sits herself on the bed, gesturing for you to lay yourself across her thighs. You give her a sneer but do as you’re told, laying your naked body across her legs as you wait for your punishment to officially commence.

She runs her perfectly manicured nails over the supple skin of your ass and back, watching as goosebumps form and a shiver runs up your spine. One hand rests on the back of your neck, holding you in place, while the other ghosts over your center.

When you whine, harsh slaps are laid against your ass, at least ten in quick succession. She ignores your cries as she yanks your head back by your hair as she sneers.

“You brats just love trying to get under my skin, but the moment I tease you, suddenly I’m the bad guy?” Valkyrie laughs while staring down at you. “Don’t act like you’re not getting exactly what you wanted, baby.”

For the first time that night, you bite your tongue and stay quiet.

“So now she wants to listen,” Val smirks. “Now the little brat wants to shut her filthy whore mouth and open her little ears.”

You whimper, curling into her as she continues to spank you until your ass is burning. Tears are threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes when she stops, pushing you off of her and back onto the floor.

“Enough punishment for you,” Val says, turning back to Thor. “I’m gonna focus my attention on someone who actually deserves it.”

The man in question remains in position across the room – him leaning on his heels with hands palm-down on his deliciously thick, bare thighs.

Fuck, what you wouldn’t do to ride him.

Valkyrie cups his scruffy cheeks with one hand, the other moving to run through his perfectly tussled hair.

“You wanna be my good little whore?” she asks, gazing down at his wide eyes.

Thor licks his lips, nearly jumping out of his skin with his red cock bouncing against his stomach. “Yes, Daddy. I want to be your good little whore.”

“And you’re going to be a good boy and do as you’re told. Aren’t you?” she asks, smiling as she watches him fight back a moan.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Valkyrie smiles, cooing. “See? It’s not that hard to be good, is it?” She lets out a faux sigh, tutting. “I don’t understand why some sluts just can’t get it into their dumb little brains that it’s better to behave.”

Neither of you say anything, the silence heavy; you have nothing to say, no retort at the tip of your tongue. Your whole being is zero-d in on Val as she instructs Thor to shed her of her black, lace panties – but not before making him leave a kiss there.

“You’re going to eat me out,” she says, backing up against the wall. “But remember, you’re not allowed to touch me unless I tell you. And good little whores do as they’re told, isn’t that right?”

You can see Thor swallow around his heavy tongue, eyes blown with lust. “Yes, Daddy. Good little whores follow instructions.”

Valkyrie just smiles. “Good boy. You may begin.”

Thor dives between her thighs without hesitation, Valkyrie moaning unabashedly as he licks at her clit, drinking her juices like nectar from a forbidden fruit.

“Is it turning you on?” Valkyrie laughs as you whine from your place across the room. “Watching my boy eat me out against a wall?”

You gulp and nod best you can, desperate to please.

“Good girls don’t like this kind of stuff,” she says, lips curled into a fake smile. “But you’re not a good girl, are you?”

You’re nearly shaking as she moans, pressing her center further against his face.

As soon as he’s given permission Thor throws one of her legs over his shoulder as he spreads her folds with one hand and grips her hip with the other.

“Aren’t you a good little slut,” Val murmurs, pushing Thor’s hair from his face.

He moans, eyes screwed shut. His hand leaves her hip to push one, two fingers into her. “Yes, Daddy, I’m your slut.”

Val’s own screams are broken, loud – he’s excellent with his hands and finds that spot inside of her easily, coaxing her to her peak with ease. As she comes down from her high, panting, Thor looks up from her legs, silently begging for praise with glazed-over eyes.

She grants it to him when she catches her breath, rewarding him with sweet low words that melt like butter on Thor’s golden skin.

“Such a pretty boy for me, aren’t you?” she coos. “So well-behaved for your Daddy, so good at following instructions and making Daddy feel good.”

You growl silently from your place on the floor as praises fall easily from her lips, wishing you could get that same treatment. You know you don’t deserve it, especially after the stunt (or stunts) you pulled tonight. Still, you wish you were the one on your knees, being coddled by Valkyrie as you gave her as much pleasure as she could ever want.

Val clears her throat one last time before speaking again, legs still a little shaky. “Now, I’m going to tie you up so you can sit there, dripping, while I give my good boy whatever he wants,” she tells you, getting out the rope.

You whimper as Thor moans loudly, holding your wrists out obediently as she walks over to you.

There are times you want to push and push – but the threat of being tied up and discarded into a corner while Thor gets all the glory while you’re denied or punished (or both) further whips you right into shape. Somehow you had missed stopping at the edge, had jumped off the cliff with no parachute. So you accept your fate, wait as Val bends down to tie your wrists.

“It’s a little too tight,” you whine, flexing your hands.

“I know,” she tells you plainly. “I don’t want you running off like last time.”

By “last time” she meant one of the first times she had ever tried rope play (not only with you, but in her life). As many inexperienced riggers have undergone, she looked up mid-orgasm to find that you had wriggled your way out of your bounds and were able to get yourself off. She was mad at you, of course – wouldn’t let you live it down despite how long it had been since that night.

She was mad at herself, too, though. Valkyrie is not a woman who enjoys feeling as if she has failed, especially when it comes to you and Thor. The sight of you writhing freely on the plush carpet in pleasure instead of tightly wound while a vibrator was placed just out of reach was something Val had thought about for weeks before she had found a night with enough time for the precise execution she felt necessary.

All three of you were sitting on the floor of the bedroom. She had Thor hold you as she followed the instructions she had memorized, eyes trained on the rope as she weaved intricate, functional patterns over your skin while she tied a vibrator in place. You struggled the whole time, but Valkyrie didn’t mind. She liked it quite a lot, actually – always revels in how your will to fight never ceases but your ability slowly surrenders to whatever bonds or complex mental game she had set for you.

She was fucking Thor with the new dildo she’d bought for his birthday when she heard something she knew she shouldn’t: you, moaning. Not whimpering, not whining, but moaning. Without regard to how Thor felt about the matter she pulled out so she could see why you were making noises associated with unfettered pleasure instead of merciless teasing.

She found you, fucking yourself against the vibrator with eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Valkyrie shudders at the thought, at failing once more. For her, falling short has never been an option – in academics, in her professional life, and, now, with you.

So she checks the ropes, then rechecks them, before leaving you on the floor alone once more, allowing her to return to her other, more obedient lover with the security of knowing your arms and legs are bound.

Thor watches the woman’s every move, still on the floor but holding infinitely more freedom than you do. His eyes are glued to her form, watching her like trapped prey watches a predator as it awaits its impending death.

Then again, is Thor prey? Is he the one tied up, awaiting judgement day? Or is he the sweet little pet of some apex predator who sees the ocean floor she prowls as a playground.

“What do you want, baby boy?” Valkyie asks, trailing her perfectly painted almond-shaped nails against his chiseled chest.

Thor gulps before answering. “I, I want you to ride me, Daddy.”

Without further discussion, Val grabs him by the collar and pushes him onto the bed, practically devouring him as her lips meet his. When she pulls away Thor chases her – and is met with Valkyrie’s firm hand pressing him back onto the sheets he had changed that morning.

You can see his eyes – the helpless, dazed that washes over his face as he realizes his pinned to the sheets.

“You want me to ride you, baby boy?” she purrs, teasing him.

Thor nods and stutters out a small “please,” pulling his head back to expose his neck.

Valkyrie just chuckles, moving to bite bruises into the tender skin there, still avoiding the place he wants her the most.

The man under her moans lewdly, fingers digging into the sheets with knuckles going white.

Valkyrie lets out a small laugh when she moves away – finally able to take in the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen. This is that art piece in that museum you were bemoaning earlier, the thing she made sure you’d never damage.

When she aligns his aching cock with her center you nearly explode, desperately wishing you could be riding Thor’s face or groping Val’s tits or something that isn’t you being unable to touch either of them.

The ache between your legs only worsens as you watch Val grind her hips, as you watch Thor’s large hands grab everywhere he can.

“You want to come inside me?” she asks, breathless as she fucks herself onto your shared lover’s cock. “You want to eat your cum from inside my pretty pussy?”

Thor groans, eyes screwed shut. “P-please, please I want to-“

“Shh,” she coos, “It’s okay, baby boy. It’s okay, just do what you wish. This is your reward.”

Thor nods, whispering a slurred “thank you” before fucking into her harder, using everything he can find inside himself to chase the ultimate pleasure.

“C’mon baby,” Val coos. She’s close, you can tell by her strained voice and God all you want is to be up there, kissing her or rubbing her clit or doing anything to help her feel pleasure.

But no – you just have to watch as her stomach contracts and Thor whines at the feeling of her orgasming pussy on his close cock, babbling as he comes with a deep groan; his whole body tensing as his eyes screw shut and mouth hangs open. Even from your shitty angle on the floor you can tell how beautiful he looks, how beautiful they both look as they come together. You’re both jealous and remarkably happy – wishing you could be up there with them but thankful you’re so much as allowed to watch the other two people in your relationship.

It doesn’t take long for them both to dissolve into an overstimulated puddle, each of them trying to catch their breaths as you await the next stage of your seemingly-never ending punishment. It comes after what feels like forever, when Val nudges him to move over.

Thor lets out a frustrated groan but rolls over, leaving room for what the woman on top of him plans to do next.

Valkyrie moves to grab a toy and its matching harness from its special drawer in the walk-in closet, where each dildo is arranged in ascending order by size and girth with the harnesses. It was one of the chores Thor was made to do the morning after along with changing the sheets and restocking the water/snack minifridge that remained in arms reach of the bed. Valkyrie prefers a tidy home, one where she knows where everything is because everything is in its place.

Being the hurricane of a woman that you are, though, these moments of bliss are minuscule and fleeting – days full of shopping for clothes and trying dessert recipes you’d found online and annoying Thor by moving things just out of place.

It’s one of those little things you do that drives Val insane, one of the things that drives her to fuck you as hard as she currently wants to.

When she’s got the toy snug against her skin she stalks over to your place on the bed. You’re forced onto your back, knees forced to your chest to allow the woman on top of you easy access to your dripping center.

“Aw,” Val laughs. “You get so wet for me, don’t you?”

You nod, trying to give her your best innocent doe eyes. “Y-yes Daddy.”

Her smile reaches her temples as she enters you at an achingly slow pace, keeping you bent in half as she watches your face like an eagle watches a muskrat, as she watches your eyes roll to back of your head and you whine for more. “I know exactly what you want, princess. Know exactly what you need-“

She grunts as she begins to fuck into you harder, reveling in the sounds of your dripping pussy each time the toy bottoms out. It’s loud and pornographic, mirroring the depth of your moans.

“I-I-“ you stutter. “D-Daddy p-please!”

Val just smirks, reaching one hand out so she can snap to grab Thor’s attention. With no words exchanged between the two of them, he grabs the large cordless vibrator and switches it to the highest setting before handing it off.

Even if they were speaking, the screams that erupted from you as the toy was pressed to the most sensitive part of you would drown them out. Your loud babbling and the tears flowing from your face only push Val to fuck you harder, not letting up even as you squirt once, twice onto the covers – soaking the bed and your thighs and Val’s toy and her thighs and probably the mattress. She only pulls out when you beg in the broken voice she loves so much, when you finally give into her demands and apologize.

“I-I-“ you whimper, some last part of you holding out. Val knows this, knows she just as to wait one more moment before you’ll finally give in.

Still, she gives you a little nudge off the edge of the cliff. “C’mon love,” she murmurs into the sweaty skin between your shoulder blades. The contact makes you shudder, and she knows she’s got you right where she wants you. “It’s okay, just tell me what’s on your mind.”

You swallow what little spit is left in your dry mouth as you desperately attempt to speak clearly. “I, I’m sorry, Daddy.”

She smiles wide, kissing your temple. “I forgive you.”

You lay there, twitching, as Val pulls out the thick toy from your dripping center. Somehow you find it in you to choke at the empty feeling, to reach a hand out in a pathetic attempt to bring her body back to yours. It doesn’t work – Valkyrie has to put the toy in the bathroom for Thor to clean later and needs to grab water and a snack for the both of you. Still, you make small, sad noises as she walks from your shaky line of sight.

Thor does his best to comfort you, draws a lazy hand across your sweaty stomach and draws random patterns on your bare thighs. “She’ll be back soon,” he tells you breathily. You know he’s right – Val always returns back to you whether she’s traveling to the kitchen or Dubai. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear the patter of her footsteps become quieter as she leaves, though.

It feels like an eternity when she returns, holding a tray with a pitcher of ice water, cups, forks, slices of strawberry-vanilla cake Thor had made after you requested it oh-so-sweetly a day prior, had given him puppy eyes and jutted your bottom lip out. Val places the tray on the floor in front of you and him, pulling you into her lap as you two eat in silence. Only occasionally does she steal a bite from either of you, leaving kisses on random bits of skin while telling you how good you two did, how proud she is of both of you.

When you’re both finished Val puts it all aside on her nightstand, allowing you and Thor to lay down with her.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me next time?” Val asks as you snuggle into her side. Thor wraps himself around you, large body warming yours. His arms, thick as your head, are long enough rest on Valkyrie’s hips.

You leave a kiss on her bare ribs, smiling. “Not a chance.”

[seimeinotaka]

Queen’s Pleasure (Vil x MC fic)

The Pomefiore Queen doesn't show any weakness and always carries himself with restraint. However things might change with a little something Ann has in mind, with Vil being on the receiving end.

Explicit content under the cut!

Thanks to jellyfishy for beta-reading this!

Vil arches an eyebrow, almost amused as his adorable girlfriend shows him what she had managed to buy and somehow bring here in secret. He had shown some interest in her proposal, but he hadn't expected her to go to such lengths to bring a double-sided strap-on.

"Ara ara, you really want to ravish me," he says with a haughty smile and defiant eyes. Ann always wants him to release himself, and this is another of her ideas to help him relax.

"I imagined you'd look fantastic on the bed, and maybe I want to hear you screaming my name."

Vil presses a finger against her chin, not before touching briefly her lips with his.

"I'll indulge you, fufu, but you’d better work hard if you want to wreck me," he says with a smirk, as she is unbuttoning his vest. He is the Queen in charge, after all. He will not go down without a fight.

Though he can't deny that her eager lips against his neck and her hands removing his layers of clothes have their own charm, him being on the receiving end is a nice change of pace.

He sits on the edge of his bed as Ann straddles him, eager green eyes meeting his amethyst ones, before their lips link and their bodies are close to each other. He skillfully opens her blouse with a free hand; if she will do him, he wants the sight of her beautiful body to taunt him, as her hand traces his chest. Her soft fingers are careful to not leave any marks, though this doesn't stop her from pinching his nipple.

"!" He breaks the kiss, though Ann laughs softly ignoring his frown.

"Your Majesty, I will not leave any marks, it was just a little greeting," she whispers against his ear as her hand tugs his reddening nipples gently, halting his breath for a moment. He feels something on his groin but refuses to break his perfect face. Earn my screams, he thinks to himself, just as she casually decides to suck on his other nipple. Gently, lovingly, absolutely sweet as his other nipple is being rolled between her fingertips.

He huffs, trying to reassess himself, though he can't stop that sound too similar to a soft moan escaping his lips.

"Vil," Ann says, pressing her body against him, "don't you want me to take care of you?" She gives him a cute pout that won't have any effect on him. "Or... could it be... that you're playing hard to get so I tease you relentlessly, like a masochist Queen?"

The devil must be hiding behind that smile because he feels shivers down his spine and he swallows hard.

She doesn't wait for his answer, humming happily as she stands up for a moment and discards her clothes. She doesn't let Vil set the pace and this both frustrates and excites him, much to his chagrin, or so he thinks anyway. She straddles him more closely as her hands roam his body and she buries her face into his chest.

You'd expect that if she's fully naked and on top of him, he is the one dictating the scene. Truth is, his dick is getting harder and his pants are starting to bother him. She's not showing the dominance of a sinful queen, but she's far from a coy maiden either, her adoration is pure but so is her horrible teasing of his body.

And that is much worse, he quickly realizes because he can't brace himself properly against the devilish charm of the temptress nor resist the sweetness of the angel.

His breath is already shaky, even if he tries to keep his cool when she eagerly unbuttons his pants and longingly caresses his cock, and his body reacts to her beautiful touch.

"Haa haa.." he breathes to calm himself, "are you this eager for me?" His words are laced with his enchanting venom, that would make anyone surrender to him, throwing their body his way.

"Yes," she replies without hesitation, "I want all of you, especially your moans in the form of my name."

His body twitches and he groans between his teeth, cheeks blushing madly, as he wonders when did she get so good at turning the tables on him.

Can she repeat those words...Wait no.

She makes him discard his pants and his underwear and he can feel the warmth of her thighs so close to him.

"I can't neglect my Queen, I swore to be your knight," she says as she pulls him for a kiss and her hand strokes his dick. Vil wants to protest for the sake of protesting, but his body seems to enjoy her touch and he finds himself at points eagerly letting her ruin him.

But the pride of a Queen is strong and he demands to ascertain himself. "I thought you were going to wreck me Ann," he says defiantly.

"I will, my dear Vil," she replies sweetly.

Before he can protest, she pushes him against the bed and has him lay on his back. Without thinking, he opens his legs because his body works faster than his mind and is more honest than his mouth.

Ann moves to the end of the bed, and places a tender kiss on his tip, a bolt of electricity cruising his body. Little does he know is that when she shoves his cock in her mouth, she's readying a finger, coated in lube. When she's sucking him hard and his thoughts are only about how good her mouth feels, she gently prepares his ass.

Even if he might have been interested in men as well, his ass is as pristine as him before he met her, so she slowly lets him adjust to her finger inside him. Vil is almost a natural, not needing much time to be ready for a second finger, maybe because he wants her to ram him already and his body is succumbing to her touch.

"Nghh, if you take this much time, I might grow bored..." he says between huffs, but his erection is now very prominent and his threat is him just wanting more attention.

It's obvious when he grumbles as her fingers leave his hole when she prepares the strap-on, coated in lube.

He imagined she'd be shy wearing it, but no, somehow she looks more confident and the flash of lust in her eyes makes him too eager already.

She softly coos him as she goes inside him, the strap-on different than her fingers, slowly so he gets used to it just as he had taken her gently the first time.

He breathes heavily, his body being filled is more different and exciting than he had thought, and he frowns when she slides out.

"Does it hurt?" she asks often, and he laughs because she takes good care of him.

It's then that he believes he can still assert himself, posing scandalously, legs parted open, inviting her, provoking like the model he is. The Queen doesn't beg and doesn't yield, even if the fullness of the strap-on is making it hard to stay still. Even as Ann begins to get the hang of it, and goes in with more vigor and confidence, Vil poses rebellious and arousing, like the haughty Queen he is.

But once Ann has thrusted inside him more than a couple of times and the strap-on against his prostate makes him see stars, Vil stops trying to run the show and instead finds himself becoming the show.

The haughty and composed Pomefiore Queen, who tried to be in control as his ass was rammed is now groaning without restraint, hissing when Ann hits that sweet spot, and huffing when she slows down to tease him. And when she answers to his complaints with a hard deep thrust, his toes curl as he lets out the most indecent sounds he would have never imagined.

Fuck, he is loving this.

He wants his sweet Ann to degrade him, to make him beg and cry, and he has quickly learned that maybe she has a cute and sinister sadistic inside, as she says with a bright smile, "I want to see you crying like that again. You sounded so cute just now."

"You're snidely, absolutely evil."

"Maybe I finally understand why you love pinning me down."

He is not supposed to be this hard, but he wants that. His erection is twitching and he lets out a moan when she begins pumping him, his cute Ann not wanting to neglect any inch of him. He bucks his hips, wanting more of her hand against his cock, but she presses him down, and the strap-on hitting his sweet spot again makes him forget his original intention.

"Hehe, good boys are patient," she says between heavy breaths. "Aren't you always telling me that good things come to those who wait, Vil?"

She dares to smile so sweetly at him when she's horribly teasing him. He wonders if he overdid it in the past with her and she's doing this to get even, and if she can repeat those words as well, his dick reacting to her sweet poison.

Her fingers squeeze him as she slams her hips against him. Vil's legs are sprawled so indecently and react to every movement of hers, no longer done on purpose. And this makes him even more delicious, because he is giving away his control and there's a primal beauty in his primitive pleasure.

"I want to see the faces you make that not everyone can see...I want to be the only one..."

"As if I'd let anyone else do me like this," he groans and receives harder pounds as his reward. His body arching, the dignity of the Beautiful Queen all thrown away in exchange for pure pleasure.

Ann looks both relieved and even more aroused, her cheeks so red, but she has a determined look, one that makes shivers go down his spine. No one will have Vil Schoenheit as she does, and no one will fuck him better than her. And boy, she's raising the bar, her faster-paced ramming inside him driving him to the edge.

He finds his release shortly after, his cum falling to his stomach as he lets out the loudest, hoarsest cry he has, as his entire body shudders from the intense wave of pleasure. Breathless he lies on his bed, dazed and exhausted as he hears Ann moan, having just finished herself, his orgasm the one thing she needed to come, because there's nothing more beautiful in the world that Vil coming indecently, her name moaned from his lips.

He stays still for a moment, his head spinning and his body trying to cool down, as he hears faintly the sound of water and Ann washing the toy carefully. He wouldn't ask for anything else, that toy must be perfectly taken care of because Vil has discovered the gift in receiving and they'll spend many nights like this in the future.

Just as he's recovered slightly and has moved to the center of his bed, he feels her lying next to him, her body pressed against his, lips gently on his neck.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not really, my cute girlfriend took good care of me."

"You won't be walking easily tomorrow," she says, lifting her gaze as her hand caresses his cheek.

"Fufufu, you forget who you're talking to. I'll have you prepare a potion for me to drink. I want to drink it from your lips."

"You're sounding demanding already Vil, even if you were begging me to do you harder."

He hums as he leans down to kiss her lips. She returns the chaste kiss.

"I am a demanding Queen. Though I'll admit I greatly enjoyed this." He throws his arms around her, clinging to Ann as she runs her fingers through his hair.

"I won't say no if you want to do this more often," Ann whispers as Vil snuggles against her.

"Of course you won't, my beautiful personal knight has to please her Queen. Though, I want to reward you later, perhaps when you least expect it."

Ann chuckles as her fingers gently rub his scalp.

Soon Vil finds himself falling in a deep slumber in the arms of the woman he loves.

-

Before Vil and Ann start dating, Ann had jokingly (not really) sworn to protect her Queen. While Vil thought she was joking, it became a recurring topic between them, so sometimes she will affectionately or sarcastically call him "Your Majesty" and he might refer to her at times as his knight. Ann started learning the sword from Silver and she DID swear on the sword so~ Also Vil and Ann are switches, so they have the best of both worlds lol

Thank you for reading!