#toss on some thick tights and a nice knee length coat and man you have a look

[strawberrystepmom]

okay but why does this slay a little

[starkeristheendgame]

slutty omega peter bought a strawberry-flavored condoms and wants to try them out on his Alpha, tony.

I hope this bring your idea to life! I kinda twisted it a little so I hope that’s okay! Ages aren’t specific so you can imagine anything you’re comfortable with. I really enjoyed this and thank you so much for the prompt!

As a side note, never buy alcohol or banana flavoured lube/condoms. Trust me. They’re nothing but disappointment. JuicyLube does a wonderful Bubblegum and a pretty nice Strawberry/Watermelon!

TW: Daddy kink | Breathplay if you squint | ABO dynamics | Dick choking (?)

Frankly, this whole ’you’re a fragile, pretty little thing and I don’t want to break you’ method of approach Tony seemed to have adopted in regards to him since they’d begun to date was really grating on Peter.

Okay. So he was a little inexperienced. In terms of real time experience. He had enough sex toys that even Tony Stark had raised an eyebrow, and his porn folder was the largest file size on his entire computer. His over-average masturbation habit was the entire reason they’d begun to date in the first place.

And yet, the moment it became ‘official’, it was like Tony became his damned father, not his Alpha and partner. He fussed over how much he ate, when he went to sleep, if he was okay every five minutes. And worst of all? They’d barely done more than kissing and grinding, some clothed groping.

So, sue him. Peter was going to play dirty. It had been a month and if he didn’t get Tony’s dick in him some way or another, he might actually just implode. And then Tony would have to clean up and explain it to May, and.

And that brought him to now, exactly two days after he had furiously and triumphantly clicked the purchase button far too harshly. The box was small and unassuming, with nothing internal to say what lay within. Peter tore into it a little savagely, eager to put his plan into motion. The packets were small and slim, a pretty shade of pink. The foil crinkled a little as he moved it around, staring.

Strawberry flavoured condoms. Well, this one was. He’d bought a few different flavours, but he liked strawberries over any other fruit.They were sweet, sometimes with a little sour undercurrent, and he found as an artificial flavour they were better than the others. He gave a wicked smile and hid his stash, waiting eagerly for Tony’s return.

He didn’t have to wait long, at six on the dot the elevator doors opened, revealing the long slope of Tony’s back as he stood, staring out at the world through the veil of the Tower. He was wearing one of his sharpest suits, a sleek, black Tom Ford that was burnished with dark, dark red flowers. It was Peter’s favourite. It matched Tony’s scent. Musky and woodsy but with a sweet, faintly flora undertone.

“Welcome home, Daddy” Peter called from where he lounged on the couch, thighs splayed to be sure his sweet scent had filled the room. Tony turned almost immediately, nostrils flaring as his dark gaze swept over his Omega. Peter knew it had been a hard-working day by the tightness in Tony’s shoulders, the delicate ridges between his brows, but Tony smiled when he saw him, warm and welcoming as he strode towards the couch.

“Hello, sweetpea. Sorry if I’m late - Work was a nightmare” Tony greeted, sinking down onto his knees in front of Peter like a worshipper to a God, nuzzling into his thigh as Peter sat up, buried long fingers in his soft, dark hair with a pleased hum. “You smell excited” the older man noted, hands rubbing at the sides of Peter’s thighs as he tipped his head to look up at him.

“Close you eyes” Peter instructed, grinning as Tony blinked at him warily, but obliged, long lashes dipping down. Peter squirmed to reach his pocket, careful not to make too much noise with the wrapper, though he spoke to cover the crinkle. “Open your mouth” he added next, watching as Tony frowned, but followed the order, lips parting just enough for Peter to slide the package between his teeth.

Tony made a questioning and semi-affronted sound, waiting for a beat before slowly opening his eyes. Peter giggled as he went a little cross-eyed trying to see the package, leaning forwards eagerly to watch his reaction. Tony shifted and reached up to grasp the packet, eyeing it with a perplexed pull of his brows.

“A condom?” He asked, brows lifting as he looked up at Peter questioningly. The boy huffed and rolled his eyes, plucking the packet from Tony’s fingers and tearing into it. He wasn’t overly careful, because the condom wasn’t about the safety; it was about the taste, and he drove two fingers into it, enough that he could push those latex-clad fingertips promptly into Tony’s mouth.

The Alpha gave a surprised mmph but then paused, tongue sliding along the covered pads of Peter’s fingers. “Mm’erry?” He mumbled around his mouthful, looking up at Peter in an amused but still confused manner. Peter gave a delighted nod, withdrawing his fingers and carelessly tossing the soiled condom and packet onto the coffee table. He had another.

“If you don’t wear this and let me lick you like an envelope, I’m going to stage a protest” Peter announced, squirming his way into standing upright. Tony cast him a bemused look, rising when Peter tugged at his shirt collar and moving easily when Peter pushed him down onto the couch. Tony sprawled elegantly before collecting himself, and reached up to scruff the Omega, dragging him down and onto his knees in the space between his spread thighs.

“A protest, hm? And what exactly would you do, Pup? Ban me from sex?” There was an Alpha bite to his mocking, and a gentle teasing that let Peter know the bite wasn’t serious. He leaned against the hand that held him, baring his neck even as he pat himself down for the second condom, forcing a pout to settle in place of the submissive, meek expression.

Tony said nothing, but watched with a baited look as Peter set aside the new packet and reached for Tony’s cock, palming it lovingly through his pressed slacks. It hardened under his touch until he was working at it with purpose, gripping the shape through the soft fabric, thumb pressing where he knew the tip lay, his pleading gaze fixed on Tony as he reached for the buttons.

“Please, Alpha. You won’t let me ride your knot. You won’t let me taste your cum. Won’t bury yourself inside me. Wanna - Have’ta get it somehow” Peter begged shamelessly, cheeks reddening when Tony’s hand tightened, thumb digging into the hinge of his jaw, Peter’s needy whine making his cock thicken under his fingers.

“Oh, but Pup. You don’t even want to taste my cum. You just want something to hold your little treat in place” Tony chastised, his free hand reaching down as he leaned forwards, to grasp cruelly at Peter’s cock. The Omega whimpered, sucking in a deep breath of Tony’s scent, flared with arousal. He could feel slick making his asscheeks sticky, and he didn’t wait to reply, fingers fumbling with Tony’s zipper. The Alpha was wearing dark, silk boxers that strained over his impressive length, and Peter would’ve dived forwards to taste it, except Tony’s grip held him steady, forcing him to simply part the material instead, drawing his cock out into the air.

It was a gorgeous thing. Long and hard, thick like a drinks bottle. The tip was cut and dark pink, shiny with pre-cum. The soft swell of his knot-hold at the bottom just visible through the parted silk and cotton. If Peter had his way, he would push up, climb onto Tony’s lap and sink onto it until it was choking his throat. As it was, he forced himself to let go of the hard, warm skin, reaching shakily for the condom.

Tony’s intense gaze tracked him, right to Peter peeling the condom from the wrapper, careful not to touch it too much. He didn’t know if the flavour was in the lube coating or the latex itself. A soft, low Alpha growl had him freezing, gaze flicking carefully up to Tony, who was smirking at him. “Mouth” the Alpha commanded, letting go of his scruff and lounging carelessly back onto the couch, hips jutting slightly and cock curving into his stomach.

Peter faltered. It was all well and good practising on bananas, but…

Tony allowed him to use his hands to start off, just to get the condom properly situated over the tip of his cock. The Alpha hissed a breath, eyes going half-lidded as Peter shuffled between his knees, licking his lips eagerly. “You smell so good, sweetheart. So slick. Always so hard, keeping my hands to myself”.

Peter wanted to snap then why the fuck are you?! But Tony’s hand buried deep in his hair, threading through the soft curls and pulling him down until his hot breath fell over his cock, making the thick length twitch and drool.

“Go on then, Pup. Daddy’s had such a hard day, be a good little Omega and make me feel better, then. Take a fat load and my knot down your throat” Tony hummed, free hand loosening his tie. And, yeah. Peter knew that Tony wouldn’t actually be able to knot his throat, but the idea and the words had fresh slick flooding his boxers, a breathless, high keen escaping as he dove down eagerly.

At first, it was awkward. He couldn’t suck, because that would suck the condom right off and down his throat. And he couldn’t use his hands, so he had to try and roll the slippery latex down the stretch of Tony’s cock with his tongue and teeth. The ache of his jaw as he worked at Tony’s cock was delicious, and the sweet, almost sickly strawberry was thick on his tongue and made him drool.

Both, then. Lube and latex. Tony hissed as he worked his tongue over the roll of latex, making a noise of frustration when it wouldn’t go down any further. The lube was too slick and he couldn’t focus on breathing and working it down. “M’pha” he whined helplessly, letting his mouth close over the hot, pulsing length, swallowing what remained of the coating.

Tony took pity on him, running a soothing hand through his hair even as he swallowed a moan, eyes rolling back slightly. “Okay, sweetpea. You can use your hands” he permitted, voice a low rumble as his hips jolted into the wet, tight heat of Peter’s mouth. Peter managed to pull the condom down properly and sat back briefly to breathe and suckle his fingers clean.

It wasn’t like real strawberries, it wasn’t juicy and sweet-sweet, but it was still good, still had his eyes rolling as he shuffled on his knees, thighs aching. It was good, though, basking in the scent of his Alpha, breathing in his arousal. The sensation of his long cock stretching his mouth wide, cutting off his breathing. He couldn’t wait to taste the real thing.

“Good, sweetpea?” His Alpha checked in, stroking through his hair fondly. Peter nodded, looking up dotingly at his Alpha before he dove back into his task, laving his tongue over the smooth latex and slurping the strawberry, sweet flavoured drool. Tony was doing his best to maintain control above him, slow, rumbling growls emitting here and there, but the slow-burn of heir sex life had clearly taken the toll on them both.

Tony’s thighs trembled with the effort of not fucking into Peter’s mouth, and his low moans accompanied Peter’s high, throaty keens. The Omega was drenched, grey sweats stained dark with his slick, the scent sweeter and over-powering that of the strawberry as he suckled hard, like he was trying to lick the taste right out of the latex.

“God, baby. So tight. My little slut”.

And.

And Peter was cumming with a yowl, swallowing harshly around Tony’s cock as his hips jolted forwards, tapering off into a whimper as fresh slick soaked his thighs and cum made the front of his boxers as sticky and wet as the back. Tony gave a sound of surprise, hands fisting tightly in his hair as his hips jerked into the sudden suction.

“Christ, sweetpea. Like that, hm? Being my little slut? Fuck. Should’ve done this sooner. You could be bouncing on my knot right now. Spread open wide over it; being stuffed full of my cum” Tony panted, scent thick with desire as he thrust up shallowly into Peter’s mouth. Peter whined, already desperate to cum again, despite still twitching from his first.

He scrabbled at the condom, only barely managing to pull it away and to impale his throat on Tony’s cock in time, ears filled with the yelped, surprised moan from above as thick, hot cum flooded his mouth. The strawberry taste was still there from the condom and it was a curious mix of salty-sweet, overwhelming and too much. He spluttered, choking on the never-ending liquid and watching some of it spurt from his mouth, dribbling back down Tony’s cock as he fought to swallow as much as he could.

“Such a good Omega, baby. So good for me. Taking all my cum” Tony rasped above him, hands petting at his jaw to encourage him to pull away and catch his breath. Peter was a mess of drool and cum, wiping uselessly at his chin. He felt gross and sticky, but sated and happy, blinking dazedly up at his Alpha with a sticky, white smile.

“So…Can you knot me now?”

[et-lesailes]

SPOILERS!! SIS i’m literally h*rny for ransom i mean just- yeah imagine him after argued with harlan that night and he came home then just say “kneels down” to you 😭

i LOVE this so i will write this rq before i go into work

SPOILERS;

-> -> -> You jump when you hear the door slam downstairs, indicating that Ransom's come home from his grandfather's birthday party. Even though you are only his housekeeper, an invite had actually been extended to you as well- however, Ransom forbade you from going, telling you instead that you had work to do at home.

You were cleaning his bedroom when the sound of the door startled you. "Y/N! Where are you?" his loud voice cuts like glass, and you immediately stand to attention even though he can't see you. "In your bedroom, sir!"

He comes upstairs, footsteps heavy and angry. You have no idea what's wrong; you know he despises his family, but if anything, he gets enjoyment from irritating them. What could they have done to faze such a cold, calculating man like him?

"Kneel down." He demands in a dangerously low growl as he storms into the room, and you are quick to obey, getting down on both knees as you peer up at him through thick eyelashes. He hasn't even taken off his tan coat or his soft, expensive scarf, though he tosses his sunglasses carelessly onto his desk. He steps forward and grabs your hair, curling it into his hand tightly and unzips his pants with his other hand. "I want you to suck me nice and hard, then take all of my cum all over that pretty face like a good girl. Can you do that for me?" he hisses, his eyes narrow and dark with both lust and heat. Whatever he's going through, he wants to be distracted. And considering he writes your very handsome paychecks, you will make sure you serve as that distraction.

"Yes sir." You whisper, giving the bulbuous tip of his thick length kitten licks before wrapping your lips around it, beginning to bob your head as you take in more of his length. He groans as he pushes your head down further, using his tight grip to control you. He's already bucking his hips and you relax your throat as best as you can as you feel him slide deeper and deeper into your mouth, letting him fuck your face relentlessly as he pulls on your hair.

It takes some time but he finally comes, painting your face just as promised and all over your tongue, watching you closely as you swallow every drop you possibly can. "Good girl," he mutters, letting go of your hair as he breathes heavily. "Now I need to take care of some business. I want you done with my room and waiting for me on this bed on all fours, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." You nod immediately as you stand up breathlessly, wiping at your lips with the back of your hand. This earns a slight smirk, but he has an evil look in his eye that gives you a feeling that whatever "business" he's about to take care of is not of the innocent kind.

You watch as he turns around, footsteps just as loud as they came, the door opening and slamming behind him. The roar of the engine and the screech of the tires outside makes you flinch.

You know he can't be stopped when he gets like this. Whatever Ransom Drysdale is about to do, you're grateful you're not on the other side of it.

[abbacchiosbelt]

Unwrap Me, Baby | Joseph x F!Reader

my very first commission - thank you so much, @spaceispeachy! ♥

18+ under the cut!

You’re rather used to having an audience by now when you’re standing in front of the floor-length mirror to get dressed every morning – the eyes that watch you are always hungry, lips pursing up in a pout when you remark ‘Not right now, Jojo.’ Joseph, for all the time you’ve been a couple, is an unstoppable flirt and an insatiable lover. You didn’t mind, not really, but he was prone to overdoing things and ending up late for work, leaving you a disheveled mess and himself wearing a wrinkly suit for the third time this week.

Today your audience is no different as you carefully slip into the clothes you’ve curated for one of your favorite hobbies. Both you and Joseph had the day off, and the pleasant weather was perfect for a day out in your newest outfit. Joseph had taken a liking to your hobby – though he was more interested in the way the delicate fabric fit over your body. He watched patiently from behind you as you adjusted your new lilac dress, complete with an intricate pastel pattern and a set of soft bows.

“You know,” Joseph starts, bed creaking as he gets up. He comes to stand behind you, placing his large hands on your small shoulders. “You kind of look like a present when you wear this stuff.”

“A present?” You quirk one eyebrow up and dip out from under his grip to retrieve the matching pair of lavender socks for the outfit. Joseph pouts at the lack of contact but eyes you carefully when you slide the socks on, delicate pattern matching perfectly with your dress. Joseph has a wicked grin on his face that you know all too well when you glance up at him.

“Jojo, we’re not doing what you think we’re doing.”

Joseph huffs and flops back down onto the bed, sighing dramatically.

“But I didn’t even get to say what I was thinking, baby.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, reaching forward to trail his fingers down your bare arm. “I wanna unwrap my present.”

The touch of his calloused fingertips always sends your skin aflame – Joseph had a way of gently unraveling you by touching you just the right way, caressing and kissing until you were breathlessly begging for more. That was for later, though, so Joseph is left to pout once more as you slide out from his touch and go to your closet to pick out a pair of matching shoes.

Joseph’s bottom lip is adorably stuck-out and you can’t help but to kiss him when you’re back by the bed, carding a hand through his messy brown hair. He sighs into your touch, closing his eyes and pursing his lips out like he wants another kiss. You giggle and reward him with a chaste peck, pulling away before he can wrap his strong arms around you.

“You’re a tease, baby.” He says, looking more like a sad puppy than an adult man.

“Don’t pout too much, Jojo. Perhaps you’ll get a chance later, hm?” His eyes light up at your words and the sad act is tossed out the window, traded in for Joseph’s enthusiastic touch encircling your waist and picking you up to spin you around.

“Put me down,” you say between giggles, Joseph’s chest rumbling against you from his own laughter. He finally relents and gingerly places you down, infectious smile still plastered across his face. You shake your head at him, but the smile curling at your lips is a giveaway that you truly do love your boyfriend’s goofy side.

-

It only takes 15 more minutes to drag Joseph out of the house, dressed up in casual slacks and a shirt that’s similar in color to your outfit. It’s tight across his broad chest – and Joseph takes advantage of it, flexing and grinning every time he catches your eyes on him.

Despite the constant flirting – though being so desired wasn’t really an issue – the outing proves as much-needed relaxation for both you and Joseph. The sun shining through the trees of the local park lets the two of you enjoy an outdoor lunch, followed by some window shopping that has Joseph decorating your future home out loud.

It’s that conversation which ends up with your lips locked in a heated kiss with Joseph’s, hidden away in a shadowy alley.

“W-when we buy our house,” Joseph pants between kisses, lips pink and shiny. “I’ll fuck you in every room, baby.”

“Yes,” you moan in reply, too dazed to properly tease him back. A familiar hardness is pressing into your thigh where Joseph has you hiked up around his waist, the heat radiating through your thin stockings. “Jojo—”

“Let’s go home first,” he mumbles, eyes trailing hungrily over the exposed skin of your chest while he places you back down. He grabs one of your hands to start tugging you in the right direction. “Can’t let anyone else see you like this.”

-

The walk home is punctuated with heated kisses and filthy words hissed into your ear, Joseph pushing you back against a wall every so often to squeeze at your body through your outfit. Joseph doesn’t care who might see the two of you – the only thing he can think about is your body pressed against his, your nails scraping down his back and your voice calling out for him again and again.

When you finally get back to your apartment, keys fumbling in your hands as you unlock the door, Joseph picks you up and carries you to the kitchen table before laying you down. It’s not the first time the two of you have fucked here – but the way Joseph’s green eyes are looking at you like he’s about to devour his favorite meal has the heat in your stomach rising.

“You look so good like this, baby. So pretty.” Joseph trails an appreciative hand across your chest, squeezing your breasts over the frilly material. “But—”

He takes off your shoes before he finishes his thought, slipping them off your feet and setting them aside before he runs his hands up your thighs, fingertips trailing along the hem of your knee-high socks.

“As nice as this is, I don’t care about the wrapping.” Joseph rucks up the skirt of your dress and a gasp falls from your mouth at the feel of air on your now exposed thighs. His eyes trail to your lace panties, the side of his lip quirking up — it was one of his favorite pairs. “I just want the present inside!”

“Ah, Jojo, l-let me take this off, at least.” You stammer, coming back to your senses. As much as your mind was telling you to just let go, the logical part of your brain was yelling at you to take your expensive dress of. Joseph trails a finger up the wet fabric of your panties in response, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips.

“It’ll be fun though. You look sweet, but you’ll look even sweeter with my cock inside you.” Joseph is shameless as always, grinning at you while he continues rubbing his fingers up your clothed center already slick with want. Joseph’s fingers are enough to quiet any worry you had about ruining your clothes – so you push into his touch and call out his name in a plea for more.

“That’s my girl,” Joseph says, throwing you a sultry wink. He steps back to tug his own pants and shirt off – and in true Joseph form, your boyfriend is bare beneath his pants, hard cock flush against his abdomen. Joseph was always a jaw-dropping sight, no matter how many times you’d been held under his tanned and muscled form. His shoulders and cheeks were beginning to dot with freckles from the sun, and Joseph looked more radiant than ever.

It wasn’t the time to wax poetic about how beautiful your boyfriend was, though, so you reach your arms out to drag him closer and wrap your legs around his firm waist.

“I’ve waited all day for this,” Joseph slides your panties to the side and rubs his cock against you, reaching a hand down to coat his cock with your juices. One of his hands reaches up to thread his fingers through yours – always a romantic, your Joseph – before he pushes the head of his cock in and groans. You bite your lip and will yourself to adjust to his size, the ache quickly giving away to a pleasant stretch. Joseph squeezes your hand as he pushes himself in, murmuring about how tight you are until he’s fully sheathed.

“Fuck, baby, you always feel so good.” Joseph’s words make you tighten around him and he lets out a grunt. His free hand travels up to the expanse of your chest and he plays with the crisscross pattern at the neckline, seemingly thinking about something.

He loosens his hand from yours and uses both to gently adjust the straps until he has the front of your dress pulled down, lacy bra now exposed. He licks his lips before he pushes it up and exposes your breasts to the cool air.

“You look perfect, y’know? I was right about this being a present,” Joseph says, finally rolling his hips and giving you the blissful friction you’d been left wanting for. His hands grope and squeeze your breasts while his thumbs work your nipples until they’re pert, eyes gazing in lust at your exposed body.

He’s pumping into you at a leisurely pace unlike him, his thick cock filling you up and brushing against you in all the right places that have you pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts, begging for him to go at a faster pace.

“Jojo, more—” you whine. His eyes finally stop roaming around your body to meet your eyes – and that familiar twinkle of mischief is there on Joseph’s flushed face.

“You just look so innocent wrapped in all these bows and lace,” Joseph says, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “But I know you’re a dirty girl.”

You let out a choked moan when Joseph punctuates his last word with a deep thrust, pulling back almost all the way out before thrusting back in and starting up a pace that strokes the arousal that’s been building in your body.

Joseph recognizes the way your legs are trembling around his waist and he grins, trailing a hand teasingly across your chest and over the bunched up fabric of your skirt before he dips his hand under your panties and starts to rub your clit, hissing when you clench around him in response.

“Y-you like that, baby? You want to come around my cock?” Joseph always starts babbling when he’s close, so you nod in response and tighten your grip on his shoulders, focusing on how good it feels to have him pumping in and out of you with his finger working your sensitive nub.

Only a few strokes later and you’re gone, mouthing hanging open and moans falling out while you tighten around Joseph’s cock, your orgasm coursing through your whole body in a pleasant wave. The neighbors can probably hear you with how loud you’re groaning and whining Joseph’s name, but you just don’t care—

Joseph is pushing into you deeper and thrusting more erratically until he cries out your name his hips stutter once, twice, until he’s buried deep within you and pumping thick ropes of cum inside of you. He’s panting out your name over and over like he always does when he cums, one hand threading through your fingers again and holding it tight until his cock stops twitching inside of you.

He hums in pleasure and pulls out, messily trailing along your clothing, before he flops on the table next to you with a lazy grin on his face.

“I love you so much,” he says, leaning over to kiss your cheek. He pulls you onto his sweaty chest and kisses your head. “Let’s do that more often.”

“I love you too, but Jojo,” you sigh, playfully batting at his chest. “You made a mess of this! You know how much this stuff cost.”

“I’ll buy you all the outfits you could ever want, as long as we do this again.”

[ghostofviperwrites]

Indiscreet

Featuring:  EVIL/FC

Word Count: 1422

Warnings: Spanking, choking, belt use, bondage, explicit language, explicit smut, cheating

Evil took her roughly locking one hand on her hip the other gripping her throat as he pounded into her. As he approached his climax he tightened his grip on her throat cutting off Aeron’s air and pushing her over the edge as she bucked against his dick climaxing around him as he shot his cum into her. He liked that she still challenged him as he held his grip on her throat, eyes meeting his as if to dare him to hurt her.

“Fuck I wanna hurt you.” He ground out as he slid out of her loosening his hold on her throat.

“I’ll let you.” Aeron replied meeting his eyes seriously. “I want it to hurt.”

“Yeah? You gonna let me bust that pretty ass of yours?” He said reaching to painfully squeeze said ass.

“Yes.” She gasped. It had been a long time since someone had brought out her sick side enough to play. She wanted to let Evil use and abuse her. To make her hurt. She liked pain. She really liked it during sex. It just wasn’t often she came across someone she found worthy enough to let use her like that. The fact that his little girlfriend was in the other room and could hear the sounds coming from the room made it better. She could imagine how uncomfortable and angry the girl was as the sounds from the bedroom filtered to the sitting room through the air vents.

Evil flipped Aeron over onto her stomach giving her a firm slap on her ass.

“Don’t move.” He commanded rising from the bed. Making his way to the closet he smirked as he found exactly what he was looking for. Aeron was making this almost too easy. He grabbed a couple scarves and a belt and made his way back to the bed. Positioning Aeron on her knees he bound her hands to the headboard before wrapping a silk scarf around her neck and making a slip knot so it would tighten when pulled.

“Do you want me to fuck your pussy while I turn your ass red?” He asked giving a tug on his makeshift leash.

“Yes.” Aeron hissed as he teased her entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Yes what?” He prodded smirking when he felt her tense under his hand.

“Yes sir.” Aeron ground out after a brief debate with herself.

“Good girl.” He said patronizingly. With that he thrust into her dripping pussy smiling when she gagged as he yanked on the scarf. With each thrust he slapped her ass, admiring the clear handprint marks peppering her pale cheeks, each slap getting harder and leaving a deeper imprint. Her panting gasps were driving Evil on, and as his slaps got harder her moans got louder and the juices flowed out of her coating his cock. Her hips thrust back to meet his thrusts and with one last brutal slap that left his hand stinging Evil pulled out of her as she came with a strangled scream.

Leaning back to catch his breath Evil grinned as he saw the bruises quickly forming on her pale skin. There were few things he liked more than to see his handiwork littering the bodies he left broken beneath him.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Aeron challenged looking over her shoulder at him with a taunting smirk.

“Oh honey I haven’t even started. I’ve got this nice belt sitting here that hasn’t even been touched.” Evil replied holding up the leather belt he had pulled from her closet. It was thick and stiff, obviously new and he was sure it was going to hurt like a bitch. He didn’t think she would mind all that much though, judging by the light that entered her eyes when he held it up.

He moved so quickly she didn’t have time to brace herself a hiss escaping as the leather bit into the already tender skin on her butt. Again and again he brought the belt down in sharp strops that had Aeron wriggling away from the onslaught. Only when he was satisfied he had covered every inch of her ass with belt marks did Evil adjust his target snapping into the tender flesh of her thighs. Aeron couldn’t contain the strangled moan that escaped as the pain seared through her.

“You like that?” Evil teased giving another quick slap to her thigh.

“Yes sir.” Aeron bit out when he struck her roughly. Evil wound the scarf in his hand up tighter pulling it taut against her throat and arching her backwards before slapping her thighs quickly in succession. Putting down the belt he slid three of his fingers into her dripping pussy ramming them home as she pressed back against him. Evil was met with a grunt of disapproval when he removed his fingers from Aeron.

“Greedy little bitch.” He said slapping her butt. “You get what I give you.”

He moved to the headboard rearranging the scarves so he could flip Aeron over onto her back.

“Now you keep your legs spread. If you close them I’m gonna stop and we are done. Do you understand?” Evil asked rubbing his thumb over her clit as he spoke.

“Yes I understand.” Aeron said pressing against his hand.

“Do I have to tell you again?” He asked stopping his motions. Aeron grit her teeth in irritation. If the man wasn’t bringing her so much damn pleasure she would tell him to fuck off.

“No sir, I’m sorry.” She ground out. “I understand your direction sir.”

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” He smirked. He knew how pride worked. It was driving her crazy having to call him sir, but she was so into what he was doing she was letting him get away with it.

As Evil situated himself between her legs spreading her lips open for his enjoyment he teasingly rubbed the belt’s leather across her clit. He chuckled as her eyes were wide with anticipation and a smidgeon of fear. When he snapped his belt across her nipple, she was surprised, having been so focused on him between her legs that she never saw the movement. But oh it felt so damn good as the fire ripped through her breast. Evil was very good, she would give him that, never following a pattern, just snapping the belt randomly, sometimes on the breast, sometimes across the nipple and sometimes a direct strike on the clit. She was teetering so close to the edge of orgasm it wasn’t going to take much to send her over. Tossing the belt behind him Evil rammed his thick cock into her swollen pussy grunting in pleasure as her cunt gripped his length. Aeron’s legs wrapped around his waist urging him on as he thrust into her wildly. A few well-placed flicks to her throbbing clit were all it took for Aeron to clench around him in climax yet again. As soon as she finished Evil pulled out climbing to straddle her chest and thrusting into her mouth. He reached down to grab the scarf yanking it taught and cutting off her air supply as he fucked her mouth until he came. When his cum filled her mouth she could barely swallow it her throat so constricted by the scarf. Evil held it tight until he was satisfied every drop had been swallowed and only then released her.

He climbed off the bed admiring his handiwork, the crisscrossing belt marks stood out beautifully on her skin, her nipples reddish and swollen bruises beginning to form, her ass already black and blue.

“I may just leave you here all night. Tied up for my use.” Evil said as he looked over the bound beauty. “Maybe I’ll let my brothers come fuck your pretty pussy. Of course you’re such a whore you’d probably like that wouldn’t you?”

“No.” Aeron denied unconvincingly making Evil smirk. He recognized that look in her eye very well. He’d seen it many times in his dungeon. She was so far gone she would do anything and everything just to get more from him. He was going to have some fun with her.

But first there was the little matter of his girlfriend to deal with.

Walking out into the sitting area of the hotel suite Evil looked over his soon to be ex-girlfriend noting her red rimmed eyes and broken hearted expression with scorn.

“You can go now.” Evil said pointing at the door in dismissal. “I don’t need you anymore.”

[sluttyten]

my lord

summary: it’s Doyoung’s birthday and when he reveals to you a fan gave him a Scottish lordship as a gift, you decide to make a little roleplay out of it

words: 3,137

pairing: Doyoung x Reader

“I’m just saying, if you had to choose a Hogwarts professor to fuck, who would it be?” You kick your feet up in the air, wiggling your toes in the thick wool socks you borrowed from Doyoung. Your head is resting on his stomach, stretched out on the floor of this blanket fort you made earlier when you decided to have a movie marathon and eat junk food to celebrate his birthday.

“I’m not answering that.” Doyoung laughs and runs his hand over your head. “We’re not even watching Harry Potter.”

You turn your head to see his face when you say, “I think Lupin. He has that mysterious, dangerous thing about him. The rugged handsomeness.”

Doyoung looks down at you. “Is that what attracted you to me?”

“Oh, definitely.” You push yourself up toward his head. “You’re so ruggedly handsome, Doyoung. And dangerous. Your sweater vests scare me deep to the bone.”

He laughs and rolls over, pinning you beneath him. “Alright, enough making fun of me. It’s my birthday, you’re supposed to be nice.” Doyoung holds your hands above your head and his knees are on either side of your hips. “I bet my fans wouldn’t make fun of me. Actually, they give me some of the best gifts, and—“

You frown and jerk, trying to free your hands. “Don’t you dare.”

“Sure, you got me that coat that I said I wanted, but some fans made me a Scottish Lord.”

“Hogwarts is in Scotland.” You mumble, wanting to get back to that topic, but then another idea occurs to you. “Imagine, you a fancy Scottish Lord, happening upon a poor lost wanderer in the highlands.” You pretend to swoon, and Doyoung laughs, leaning down to kiss your throat. “Oh, Lord Doyoung.”

“Mmmh,” He sinks down over you. “Say that again.”

Doyoung’s lips brush your jaw and you sigh involuntarily, arching up to press your chest to his. “My Lord,” you whisper, and at the same time your try to get your hands free, but it’s no use. He holds tight, still kissing your throat.

“Do you like me calling you that?” You ask him, and you desperately want to touch him. To run your fingers through his hair or hurry to press them beneath his hoodie, or to just touch him everywhere and anywhere.

“I like that idea.” Doyoung tells you, kissing your throat once more before he sits back so he’s looking down at you. His eyes trail from your throat to the low neck of your top which has been pulled down by the position he’s got you in. For a moment, Doyoung watches your chest rise and fall, the necklace he gave you for Christmas gleams on your chest.

He still holds tight to your wrists, but this time when you move, Doyoung releases them, and he settles down to sit on his heels.

His head pushes against the roof of your blanket fort, not quite made to be sitting upright in, it he doesn’t seem to care. He’s watching you with a curious look in his eyes.

“What?” You ask, somewhat self-consciously, your hands immediately going to pat down your hair and make sure it’s not sticking out weirdly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Doyoung takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Can we pretend like we’re living that scenario you just said? Like I’m a Scottish Lord and you were wandering the highlands. I bring you in to the warmth and safety of my home, and you’re just a beauty and so innocent and I get to show you what it’s like to make love.”

There’s a slight blush high on his cheeks, but you nod eagerly, and Doyoung kisses your knuckles again and then presses his cheek to your hand with a whisper of “thank you.”

Moments later the blanket fort lies in shambles, totally collapsed, and Doyoung pulls you from the wreckage, guiding you toward the bedroom, and he says, “Let me take you to my castle.”

“Do Lords even live in castles?” You whisper to him.

“I do. It’s a very big, very nice castle.” He pulls you through the bedroom door and spins you around to press you to the wall.

You press your hands to his chest, “I’m sure it’s a very big castle, my lord.” You drop your eyes to let your gaze wander down to where his hips connect with your body.

“It is, m’dear.” He licks his lips, he snags a finger under your chin and brings your gaze back up to his. “Have you ever seen a castle before?”

You remember what Doyoung said earlier about him being the Scottish Lord to show oh-so-innocent you the way that lovemaking is done. So you do your best to put on a demure face.

“Never seen a castle before, my lord.” You slide one of your hands up over his shoulder and raise up on your toes, “Can I please see yours, Lord Doyoung?”

He bites his lip and pushes his hips against you, his erection a definite bulge at the front of his pants, and he groans quietly.

You twist your arms around his neck and Doyoung’s hands slide under your sweatshirt, chilly fingers skating up over your hips to hold onto your waist. You shiver closer to him, and Doyoung watches you for a moment before he starts to lean in to kiss you.

Playing your role of innocent maiden, you lean back and gasp dramatically. Doyoung startles backwards, eyes checking you over and his hands loosen on your waist. “What? What’s wrong?”

You slide your hands down from behind his neck, over his chest, and you dramatically say, “I’m just an innocent maiden, Lord Doyoung. You can’t kiss me. I can’t soil my virtue with you, my lord.” You flick your gaze up through your eyelashes. Doyoung’s smiling a little, clearly amused by this show you’re putting on, so you feed him more. “But perhaps, if you were just to demonstrate to me the proper ways of lovemaking, it would be alright. Wouldn’t it?”

Doyoung is definitely smiling now, his hands going tight on your waist again. “You’re right. Just a demonstration.”

This time when he leans in to kiss you, you close your eyes and let him. You lean in to the kiss, relishing it. Doyoung always kisses you sweetly, lightly at first, and this time is no different. One of his hands slides across your lower back, fingertips dipping below the waistband of your panties, and you sigh into the kiss, pressing closer, wanting more.

But Doyoung steps back, leaving you cold and needy against the wall. “I should show you the castle now, shouldn’t I?” He gestures to the bed, and you take the hand he offers to you for him to lead you the three feet to the bed.

He surprises you by lifting you onto the bed when you reach it, his hands warming slowly on your hips as he lifts you into the bed, and then quickly follows, leaning you back against the mattress. His hands wander higher under the sweatshirt you wear, nothing underneath but panties, and when Doyoung’s hands reach your chest, his fingers finding your nipples, you moan and arch into his touch.

“My lord, please,” You lift your legs to cross your ankles behind him. “It feels so good. What are you doing to me?”

He doesn’t say a word, just starts moving again to peel your sweatshirt up over your head, and the moment that it’s tossed aside and your chest is bare in front of him, Doyoung kisses down your throat, over your chest, and places kisses around each of your nipples, nipping and sucking at your chest.

You push your fingers into his hair, murmuring “my lord” and “lord Doyoung” over and over, and as you do, you can feel him getting harder against you.

Doyoung moans, kissing at your chest. “You’re so soft and warm and you smell so nice.”

Stroking the back of his head, you hum pleasantly. “Thank you, my lord.”

“God, it’s so hot when you call me that.” He groans and then he sits up. His hands go to your thighs, squeezing and rubbing them, fingertips teasing the edge of your panties, and his eyes flutter shut as your fingers touch his cheek in admiration.

“You’re so ruggedly handsome and mysterious, my lord,” You tell him, trying not to laugh.

Doyoung opens his eyes, narrowing them at you in a glare, and suddenly he pins your hands over your head again. “Watch it. Or I’ll throw you in the dungeons as punishment for mouthing off to your lord.”

“Ooh, that sounds like it could be fun.”

He takes one of your hands and drags it down to the front of his pants, pressing your palm against his bulge. “Do you want to learn how to pleasure a man, dear?”

“Yes, lord Doyoung. Please, I want to make you feel good.” You curl your fingers against his bulge, and against his lips you breathily say, “Show me how to touch you.”

Doyoung kneels up, scrabbling to get rid of his pants, pushing them down and away and he pulls your hand back toward his aching erection.

You bite your lip and put on your innocent expression again, flick your eyes up to meet his demurely, and as Doyoung curls your fingers around her erection, you tell him, “It is indeed big, my lord.”

He pushes forward into your touch, arranging your fingers to make you swipe your thumb over his weeping tip while the rest close around him, squeezing lightly, almost pulsating around his length.

“Does that feel good, my lord?” You ask, trying to move your hand, wanting so badly to start jerking him off, but Doyoung holds tight enough that you can’t hardly move. “What should I do now?”

“Just like that,” He sighs, releasing his hold on your hand around him, and he pushes into your grip. “Move your hand up and down, my dear.”

You watch Doyoung’s face slightly in awe of him. You’ve had sex before, you’ve jerked him off at least a dozen times, but Doyoung’s never actually told you how he likes it. You’ve never seen him jerking himself off, so you’ve never seen how he does it, but it’s always seemed like he enjoyed the way you did it fine enough, but now seeing him like this, listening to him instructing you, you think maybe you should’ve done this before.

“Twist your wrist a bit.” Doyoung instructs, rocking into your fist and moaning as you obey him.

Finally he drags your other hand down from where he’s had it pinned this whole time, and you touch his balls, his hand directing you exactly how to touch. Both of his hands cover yours again, touching himself through your hands, and you think you’re in love with this sight. Your pussy is throbbing, you crave his touch now, to feel him inside of you, for him to cum inside you, and make both of you feel good.

“Doyoung,” You moan. His eyes flash open, hips still rocking into your touch, and he waits for you to say something else. “Doyoung, I mean, m-my lord,” You words get stuck in your mouth, “Please, show me more. Teach me. You’ve ignited a fire inside me, and I need you.”

Doyoung’s hands release yours and he touches your panties. His fingertips find the wet spot on your panties, the damp heat of your pussy all but calling his name.

You move your hand over his cock, still jerking him off and fondling his balls as Doyoung tugs your panties down to your knees. He looks at you and for a moment you think he’s going to break this little roleplay scenario you’ve got going on, but then he shakes his head.

“I’m going to touch you, make you feel as good as you’re making me feel. Alright, my dear?” You lift your hips, urging him to continue, but Doyoung waits, skimming his fingers up and down your thighs until he hears a verbal answer from you.

“Yes. Please touch me, my lord.”

That’s all he needs. Doyoung gathers your wetness on his fingertips and smoothly enters you.

You twist, tucking your face against the mattress, moaning quietly, panting his name softly. Your hands fall away from pleasuring him and you reach for his shoulder instead as he sinks down between your legs.

“So warm and tight. Like a virgin.” Doyoung smiles and kisses the sensitive skin high on your thigh, just beside your labia. He moves the finger inside of you and at the same time licks your clit. You let out a short moan, your hand tightening on his shoulder.

He soon fits in a second finger, licking at your clit and around his fingers as he pumps them inside of you. Occasionally he murmurs to you, encouragements and little words of affection and comfort as if this were truly your first time and he’s just coaxing you into a relaxed, comfortable state.

With the third finger he stretches you further with, you dig your nails into his shoulder and moan “Lord Doyoung, don’t stop. It feels so good, my lord. Is this what lovemaking is all about or is there more to it?” You ask in a subtle way of hinting that he should really get inside of you.

Doyoung gets the message. He pulls his fingers out of you, licking you up once more before he steps back off the bed, snagging his fingers in your panties which are tangled around your knees, and he pulls them off, flinging them somewhere in the room.

His fingers close around your calves, and he drags you to the edge of the bed.

“My dear, I hope you’ve enjoyed your time in my castle so far.” He tells you as he runs his hand over his cock a few times before lining up with your entrance.

“More than I ever could have dreamed of my lord. Such a big castle has so many hidden pleasures, I hope.” You reach for his hip, and Doyoung nods.

He thrusts halfway into you quickly and you gasp and moan, your legs rising on his sides, your thighs squeezing at his hips.

“More, more, my lord.” You clutch at his hip, uselessly trying to push him deeper with just your one hand. But then, miracle of miracles, Doyoung starts to move again, slowly pushing the rest of the way inside of you, the whole time you whisper to him, begging for more, telling him how good he feels.

Doyoung groans when he bottoms out, sinking down over you so that he’s only supported by his elbows on either side of your head, his face right over yours, and you stretch up to kiss him. Doyoung moans and starts moving, snapping his hips forward against you, driving his cock pleasurably right up against that spot inside of you that makes your whole body tingle.

His thumb slips down to your clit, rubbing it to give you heightened pleasure, his hips still snapping against yours.

You stop the charade, Doyoung’s name pouring from your lips as your orgasm rises up, and he keeps touching you, fucking you, and when you hear a gentle, “Just let it go, my dear,” you cum.

The hard, fast, brutal speed Doyoung’s taking with you does more than set off your orgasm. You feel yourself squirting. The intensity catches you off guard, but it feels so damn good and you couldn’t stop it now even if you wanted to.

Doyoung makes some noise that you can’t decipher as he realizes what’s happening too. It’s not much that you release really, but it feels like buckets from the amount of pleasure that you get from it combined with your orgasm.

“Fuck,” He moans, his lips right beside your ear. His arms shudder as he keeps fucking you, now chasing his own orgasm, and you can already feel your second orgasm building. “Fuck, say it for me. Say it again.”

He doesn’t have to explain what he means, you already know.

You reach for his face, turning him so his mouth is over yours, his eyes slitted open just to see yours, and you moan, “Please cum inside me, my lord.”

Doyoung crushes his mouth against yours and his hips stutter forward, the pattern falling apart as he finally cums for you. His kiss is no more than your mouths pressed together, Doyoung’s moans poured between your teeth and over your tongue. You feel his cum shooting inside you, leaving you warm from the inside out, and that alone is enough to give you a second orgasm.

It shakes through you and you wrap your arms around Doyoung, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking him for every last drop of his semen.

And when you’ve both finished, when Doyoung sweaty chest is pressed against yours, you sigh and reach up to pet at the soft, damp hair at his nape.

“Amazing, my lord. The best castle I’ve ever had, that’s for sure.”

Doyoung laughs a little. “Is that castle supposed to be a euphemism for my dick, sex, or an orgasm?”

“Whichever you want it to be. All of the above, even.”

Doyoung hums happily and then sits up, pulling out of you. He climbs off the bed and returns a second later, wiping himself clean with what you recognize to be your panties.

“Really?”

Doyoung smiles a little apologetically, and he disappears again, this time returning with a towel to wipe you down a bit. He just cleans you the bare minimum before he collapses down beside you, his brow sweaty but there’s a satisfied smile on his face.

“I hate getting sweaty.” He groans, flipping comfortably onto his back, and you scoot into his side.

You trace your fingers over his chest, lightly tweaking a nipple as you pass. Doyoung hisses and his hand flies up to cover yours, flattening it against his chest. You smile and throw a leg over his, drop a kiss to his chest, and you say, “Maybe next time, my lord Doyoung, we can meet in my mighty fortress.”

Doyoung snorts and turns his face away. “I would love to spend some time in your fortress, my dear.”

You snuggle into his side, laughing a little yourself, and then you whisper, “But we really do need to clean up the blanket fort at some point.”

“Not now.” He turns his face toward you again, rolling onto his side as well, and his arms encircle you, hugging you close. “It’s my birthday still which means we get to be lazy and clean it up tomorrow.”

a/n: I really wanted a gif of doyoung from star road to be the gif at the top of this, but I didn’t like that the only ones I could find were like long rectangle gifs instead of horizontal, so I settled with this one instead. imagine that it’s what he looked like in the blanket fort.

[elizaviento]

Manipulation (part 8)

NSFW -- 2400 words

(FYI: This story is a sequel/companion piece to Assimilation, which can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog’s description along with additional chapters of Manipulation.  Or, you can click the #manipulation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

I woke up once in the middle of the night when I felt the humid, warm puffs of her breath bathing my neck and shoulder.  Startled, I nearly throttled her before the memories of what had transpired hours earlier sprang forward from my memory bank.  Releasing a sigh of relief, I rolled on my side and strained to see her face as my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

She was lying on her side, facing me with one hand tucked under the pillow.  My scratchy blanket covered from her shoulders downward and I wondered if she was still nude.  Gently and slowly lifting the shroud, so as not to wake her, I peeked underneath and smirked when I was rewarded with bare breasts.  Then, I chanced placing the hand still under the blanket on her hip, confirming that no fabric covered her lower half either.

As exhaustion began to overtake me again, I wiggled closer to her on the cot and draped an arm across her waist.  She stirred only slightly, but her features remained slack.  Closing my eyes, I quickly banished the nagging thought of what would become of this once the harsh light of day illuminated our transgressions.

----------

Digging through all the crap I had stored on the metal shelves in the garage was always such a pain in the ass.  Briefly wondering if I could somehow bribe Summer to organize it for me, my eyes were inexplicably drawn to the two boxes sitting next to the shelves; the same boxes that I’d begrudgingly agreed to allow her to store in here until she moved out.  Stepping closer toward them, I tilted my head to read her handwriting scrawled down each side in black magic marker.  One box was labeled as ‘random crap’ and the other simply as ‘photos’.

Photos, huh? I had missed out on over thirteen years so the pathetic curiosity was overwhelming and it took me all of five seconds to pull a pocket knife from my lab coat and slice the thick packing tape across the top.

It was an absolute cluster fuck inside.  What appeared to be hundreds of loose photographs haphazardly tossed in a cardboard box with no cataloging or preservation method whatsoever.  Thinking back to the state of the boxes on my metal shelves, I smirked to myself at this common thread between us as I removed a handful of photos from the box to leaf through.

Most of them were of the kids.  In fact, discarding each one on top of the other unopened box as I went, I figured 85 percent.  Some were of Beth, Jerry, Joyce, Leonard, other people I didn’t recognize and didn’t give two shits about.  But, then, the next handful I scooped up and shuffled through revealed her in a sleeveless, knee length white dress.  The kids were in the photo with her – one on each side – and they were also dressed in formal attire.   She didn’t appear much different physically but the kids were obviously a few years younger.  The next photo in the stack also showed her in that same white dress.  Only now, just her father appeared with her.

Nice going, Rick.  You stumbled across her wedding photos.  You know what they say right?  Curiosity punches the old man directly in the ball sack.  Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead, huh pal?  Maybe you should quit before you find one that she and her husband took of themselves while they fucked on their wedding night in some kind of amateur hour photo shoot.

Tossing the pile I had in my hand back into the box, I quickly threw the others inside as well before finding a roll of tape on my shelves to reseal it.  It served me right, I supposed.  I’d watched more than a few Ricks in the dimensions where her counterparts were still married play games of hide and seek with her husband.  Most of them were having an affair and that presented its own set of challenges, but the ones who weren’t were just plain miserable.  They avoided her and her husband’s counterparts like the plague, and I honestly couldn’t blame them.  I’d only caught a glimpse or two of the husband through the goggles and honestly couldn’t pick the guy out from Adam.  As it were though, I’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible. No good would come of stumbling across a photo of him, at this point.

Feeling grumpy from having almost sabotaged myself, I gave up my plans of recalibrating the ionic defibulizer and decided to go back inside to check on her.  I’d left her sleeping in my room about an hour prior when I’d realized that I’d been staring at her while she slept for a creepy, stalker-esque amount of time. But, as soon as I entered the kitchen, I caught the faint sound of water running through pipes.  Considering no one else was home, I felt my cock twitch as the cliché image of her soaped up in a steamy shower invaded my mind.

Again, it took me all of five seconds to decide to join her, even as I was already walking toward the bathroom.  Jiggling the door knob, I found it locked – which was fucking adorable – so I fished an ink pen from my inner pocket, pushed it through the hole to pop the lock on the other side, shed every stitch of clothing and opened the door.  The bathroom was completely shrouded in steam and I wondered if she was trying to boil herself alive.  Then, the bubbly sound of her laughter could be heard over the shower spray.  An intrusive thought crept in that she was trying to scrub the shame of our coupling from her skin, but I shoved it away as I forcefully yanked the shower curtain back.

She screamed. Loud. She also tried to scramble backward which only managed to pitch her off balance as the balls of her feet slipped up the tub wall.  Thankfully she steadied herself before falling and cracking her skull.

“What w-w-were you laughing about in here?” I asked nonchalantly while trying not to laugh.

“WHAT?!” she screamed back at me.  Obviously her brain hadn't fully caught on to the fact that I wasn’t there to murder her and I smirked as I stepped over the tub wall to join her.

“Jeez, tone it down – dial it back a bit or Jerry will start to suspect something,” I joked as I shimmied past her to get to the spray of water.  Noticing the look of pure terror on her face at the prospect, I clarified that I wasn’t serious by adding, “Re-relax.  He’s not here.”  A moment later, she shoved me as I ducked my head under the shower spray. “Hey, watch it!  I – I’m an old man, remember? ��If I shatter a hip, you’re cleaning – emptying my bedpan.”

She laughed, shaking her head and folding her arms across her chest as she shivered slightly. Her brow was also furrowed, making it obvious that she was having a serious reflection on what I’d just said. The last thing I wanted was for her to try to backpedal, so I moved in closer.

“I can hear the gears t-t-turning in that head of yours,” I said, grabbing one of her forearms to pull her in until we were chest to chest.  Wrapping my arms around her, I rested my chin on the crown of her head and turned her until she was again under the soothing spray.  Once I was sure that she had warmed up enough, I pulled back slightly to look down on her.  When she shifted her gaze upward toward me, she also rose on her tip toes and kissed me, parting her lips slightly to encase my bottom lip between hers and gently tugged it with her teeth as she lowered back on her heels.

Wasting not even one second, I wrapped my arms around her tighter and continued where she’d left off – pressing several short, open mouth kisses to her lips before pushing inside; rolling my tongue over and around hers until I had her absolutely breathless.  All the while, my cock filled and swelled against the soft flesh of her stomach. And, as I pulled away to trail kisses across her jaw, she leaned back to grant me easier access which, in turn, shifted her smooth skin across the head of my cock.  That bit of stimulation flipped a switch in my brain, throwing me into a frenzy I could hardly control.

Without warning, I unwrapped my arms from her waist to grip both of her biceps, turned her around and roughly shoved her against the shower wall.  Then, placing one hand on the back of her neck, I pressed her cheek to the ceramic tile.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” I growled in her ear, rutting against her ass from behind. “Are you wet enough for me yet?” Moving one hand between her thighs, I spread her lips wide with my ring and index fingers before thrusting my middle finger inside.  We groaned in unison – her from the sudden intrusion and me from the sensation of my digit sinking into that tight, wet snatch of hers.  “Mmm, yeah, y-y-you – you’re ready,” was all the warning I gave her before swiftly positioning and slamming home.  Her chest and face slid upward against the tile with the force of it and she cried out.  For a split second, I wondered if I’d hurt her.  Most of her counterparts seemed to like it rough now and again but perhaps I’d misinterpreted her earlier lip bite.

That is, until she demanded – “Do it again.”

Suppressing a moan, I gripped her hips a bit tighter.  “Yeah?  You like that?” I asked before pulling out and ramming back in.

“Oh, fuuuck…” she sobbed.  “Don’t stop!”

Jesus Christ, it’s like Christmas morning and I’ve just been gifted the perfect toy, I thought as I shuffled back slightly – tugging her hips to move with me – and then positioned both hands to clamp down on her shoulders for leverage.  Dropping a kiss on top of her head, I pulled out nearly all the way and then slammed home again and again and again.

“Oh, shit. Oh, Christ.  I – I’ve fucked my hand so many times while – while dreamin’ about pounding you in this shower,” I confessed; the words spewing from my mouth unchecked as she slid and grunted against the tile.  She moaned in response, her pussy tightly enveloping my cock and I continued to give it to her.  “I can feel you squeezing my dick, baby, fuck. Touch – rub your clit for me.  I want – wanna feel you cum.”

Sliding one hand down the tile, she squeezed it under her body.  Seconds later, she cried out and her knees buckled beneath her. I adjusted my grip from her shoulders to her hips to hold her upright as she continued to massage her clit until her legs began to tremble.

“Oh my god! Oh my fucking god!” she screamed, slamming her free hand against the tile.  Her cunt continued to tighten as I fucked her and I knew she was seconds from cumming. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to her ear and commanded her to do so.

“Cum.”

And, she did. Her body seizing in the same manner as the night before, she hitched a sob as a flash flood erupted from her cunt, coating my cock as I continued to savagely fuck her.  As each contraction pulsed and squeezed, I faltered my rhythm as I drew closer to the edge of that cliff.

“I’m gonna – gonna cum on your ass, baby. You ready?” I asked, my speed increasing as I chased my own release.  The glide of her slick pussy was so god damn perfect and I wondered how I would contain myself from fucking her 24/7.

“Yesss,” she hissed in reply.  Her climax ebbing, she steadied herself before continuing, “Cum on me, Rick.  Do it, baby.”

“Ah FUCK!” I yelled as I pulled out and pumped my cock. Once, twice; the pressure building and building until it snapped and I came all over her ass – each rope painting the perfect landscape of debauchery on her backside.

Completely exhausted and panting like a dog, I hadn’t even realized I’d slumped on top of her until she spoke –

“That was fun. But, I really need to actually shower now.”

Laughing, I stood upright and wrapped my arms around her waist to pull her from the shower wall and steady her on her feet.

“I – uh – gotta get Morty, anyway,” I said, pulling the curtain back and stepping out while she angled her body back under the water.

“Morty’s in school,” she informed me and I scoffed.

“So? I’ve got shit to do and – and need his help.”  Once I was fully clothed, I turned back toward her to add, “Don’t tell Beth.”

“Rick, that’s not fair,” she replied, pulling the shower curtain around her body to shield from the cold air wafting in from the hall.  I should have known that her sense of duty to the kids would remain absolute.

“Okay, fiiiine,” I groaned, rolling my eyes before stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door.

“You’re still going to get him, aren’t you?!” she yelled after me.

Smirking at her correct assumption, I casually strolled toward the garage.  And, as I did, I had the distinct feeling that what had just transpired had cemented something between us.  Yeah, we’d fucked the night before, but it was under a haze of alcohol and vulnerability.  She could have refused me just now.  She could have screamed at me to leave the bathroom as soon as I ripped open the shower curtain.  But, she didn’t.  Even the short conversation between us after the euphoria of a good fuck had faded was natural and easy – no awkwardness or tension whatsoever.  I supposed that, even at my age, it was never too late for firsts.

To be continued...

[iliketowrite1996]

Tying Shoelaces and New Faces part 9

 TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- SINGLE PARENTHHOOD, LIES, ILLUSIONS OT ONE NIGHT STANDS, MENTIONS OF DIVORCE

Intomba- ‘’Daughter’’ in Xhosa.

‘’Nah, man. Can’t babysit tonight. Got plans,’’ Erik tells T’Challa, and from the noise coming from his side during their phone call, T’Challa can tell that his cousin is moving something around.

   ‘’Oh? What do you have planned, N’Jadaka,’’ T’Challa inquires curiously.

   ‘’Plans,’’ his cousin says flatly, because he truly is a turd.

   ‘’N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’I got a date with his girl. Fine as heck, chill as can be. It’s gonna be great.’’

   ‘’Ohhh, so you’re going on a date,’’ T’Challa smirks.

   ‘’Aye, man, wipe that goofy looking smirk off ya face. It ain’t even like that.’’

   ‘’N’Jadaka, you haven’t been on an actual date in two years. Now all of a sudden you have plans with someone? She must be special.’’

   There’s a momentary pause before N’Jadaka breathes on the other side.

   ‘’She is, man. I’m just tryna see where this goes, ya know?’’

   T’Challa knows very well.

   No one knows, but he’s really excited about his first date with you. So excited, in fact, that he realizes he hasn’t felt this way since Nakia.

   It’s odd feeling now, but it is certainly not unwelcomed by him.

   ‘’You’ll have to tell me about it at dinner tomorrow,’’ he insists, ‘’I’ve tot go to. I’m taking Autumn on our weekly Saturday daddy-daughter time.’’

   ‘’Sounds good, man. Tell Little Bit I love her. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’

   The cousins say their ‘’Goodbyes before T’Challa heads off to Autumn’s room, where he finds his babygirl still dressed in her pajama and staring at her clothes, little finger tapping against her chin.

   ‘’What are you doing, intomba?’’

   ‘’Trying to decide on an outfit.’’

   She currently has her cranberry, corduroy cardigan with the pink turtleneck and tights, her overalls with the multicolored sweater, and her jeans with her black turtleneck, with pink flowers embroidered on it.

   ‘’Hmm, can I help?’’

   ‘’Of course, baba!’’

   ‘’Why don't you wear this dress tomorrow to dinner,’’ he points to the outfit, ‘’And you can wear this overall outfit right now.’’

   ‘’Sounds good!’’

   ‘’Great! Now, go get washed up and come back so I can help you get changed.’’

   Getting Autumn Elizabeth Udaku ready is a process.

   First he sends her to wash up.

   Then he sends her back because she definitely did not do to the first time.

   Then he helps her get dressed.

   Then he does her hair.

   This is the department that is trickiest for him. His hair is thick, but it’s cropped short. He moisturizes it and gets it cut every so often and keeps it moving.

   Autumn has length and thickness of her hair. When down, in its curls, it grazes her shoulder.

   So T’Challa just usually pulls it into a bun, and Erik does it for his baby cousin when he can.

   Right now, he’s sliding rain boots onto her little feet, ready to head out for their day of adventures.

   ‘’Put your coat on,’’ he tells her, dusting off his jeans from where she had her foot before sliding his own shoes on.

   The dynamic duo are out of the door fairly quickly, all things (Autumn taking forever) considered.

   T’Challa always takes her through the park if the weather permits. It’s nearly November and it is cold, but the sun is shining so he does so.

   Autumn kicks the leaves as she has done every single day that he’s taken her to school this week, picking up her favorite ones and placing them into her little bag.

   ‘’Baba, where are we going?’’

   ‘’To the children’s museum. They have a new exhibit that I believe you will like,’’ T’Challa informs his daughter, stopping to pick her up and place her on his hip so that he can carry her.

   ‘’Yay! Is it about movies?’’

   She’s bringing it up because he watched two movies with her last night, to make up for cutting move night a bit short last week because of his date.

   T’Challa doesn’t regret the date. Not in the slightest.

   But Autumn Elizabeth Udaku will  always come first, and he knows that you’ve already accepted that.

   Maybe that’s why he finds himself already falling for you.

   ‘’Actually, yes! It’s about some old movies that your grandpa and I used to watch together,’’ T’Challa confirms.

   His little girl is practically buzzing with anticipation as they reach the ticket booth and he buys three tickets.

   Confusions sets into her soft features as she counts the tickets and then herself and T’Challa.

   ‘’Why is there one more?’’

   ‘’Because Auntie Shuri wanted to spend time with her favorite niece!’’

   Autumn squeals as she turns to find her Auntie behind her, reaching out for her as she does so.

   T’Challa elts his little girl leave his arms as Shuri holds her close, pressing a kiss to her smoothed back curls, ‘’Look at you! You’ve grown so much!’’

   ‘’Baba says I’m getting taller every day,’’ the little girl beams proudly, showing off her tooth gap, ‘’Someday I will be as tall as him.’’

   T’Challa watches fondly as two of his favorite young women catch up, Shuri carrying the four-year-old into the museum.

   Autumn absolutely adore the exhibit, especially the one about the musical she used to watch with her bhabi in rainy days.

   ‘’Do you like that one,’’ Shuri had asked her niece after getting permission to take a picture of the young girl in front of the exhibit.

   Autumn nods enthusiastically, eyes wide with curiosity and the need to explore.

   She looks so much like Nakia when she does that, that T’Challa can see how she truly is a perfect blend of their personalities and features.

They exit the exhibit an hour after they arrive, T’Challa holding one of Autumn's hands as Shuri holds the other.

The little girl is enthralled with playing with the sand at the ‘’Dinosaur Exhibit’’ when Shuri turns to her brother.

‘’Who’s the girl?’’

T’Challa turns to her with wide eyes, ‘’W-what?’’

‘’You’re grinning all goofy and lovesick-like. Who’s the girl? There obviously is one,’’ Shuri shrugs, tossing her braids over her shoulder.

‘’What do you know,’’ T'Challa raises an eyebrow at his younger sister.

‘’More than you,’’ she mirrors his expression.

‘’Just someone I’ve been on one date with. We are meeting up again tonight,’’ he tells her, because there truly is no point arguing with Shuri.

‘’I see. Do baba and mother know?’’

‘’No, and I’d like to keep it that way,’’ he stresses, ‘’Until I see if something is going to come of it.’’

He really hopes that something does, but he won’t tell her that.

‘’Ahh, forbidden love,’’ she nods sagely, as if she has the wisdom of an elderly woman,’’Been there?’’

‘’Shuri, what?’’

‘’I’m kind of seeing this guy from my class. He’s really wet, really smart. Kind of a dork. Has a thing for old pop culture references.’’

‘’Do our parents know,’’ T’Challa questions, training his eyes back on Autumn.

‘’Mother does. Baba does not. Not yet, at least. You know how he can be.’’

‘’Protective,’’ T’Challa nods with a sigh.

‘’Yeah, that,’’ she shakes her head, ‘’I don’t want to hear it from him now. It would make things complicated.’’

That’s part of why T’Challa has not told N’Jadaka about his dates with you. The fewer people that know,t he better for the two of you.

Why invite the outside mess in before you know if there is going to be any business for them to even get into?

‘’Your secret's safe with me, brother. But I say we go get my niece and grab an early dinner. I’m hungry.’’

T'Challa thanks his baby sister with a smile before the pair retrieves Autumn and head out, looking for a kid-friendly restaurant to enjoy.

They settle on a pizza place, and Shuri is wiping Autumn’s face with a napkin as T'CHalla receives a text from you.

‘’Can’t wait for tonight! Dress casually, wear something you don't’ care  messing up’’

Thank goodness for Shuri being able to babysit Autumn tonight.

He can’t imagine where you’re taking him, but he knows that it'll be great because he’ll be with you.

He looks to Autumn, who is giggling as she and Shuri blow bubbles in their drink, because he can’t take them anywhere.

‘’Eh, stop that,’’ he chuckles at the two.

He has a great baby sister, wonderful daughter, and a date with you to look forward to.

Could this day get any better?

The day could not get any better form that moment, but it certainly did get awkward.

T’Challa found out that you wanted to go play paintball. That’s cool.

You bring along Sanaa and wait for her date. Alright.

Her date is N’Jadaka Udaku himself, who is looking at T’Challa like he’s struggling to put the pieces together.

   When you return from the bathroom to join them, he does.

   ‘’We gon’ talk later,’’ he says, shooting T'Challa a look before putting on his gear.

   It’s you and T'Challa against him and Sanaa, and you have a blast. Erik and Sanaa are a match, because they both break into the same happy dance and are already finish each other's sentences.

   ‘’So,’’ Erik turns to his cousin as you and Sanaa head to the bathroom before you all leave to go get dinner, ‘’You finally asked Little Bit’s teacher out.’’

   His tone and expression are both unreadable, so T'Challa treads lightly, carefully.

   ‘’Yes…’’

   A bright grin spreads across N’Jadaka’s face, and T’Challa feels relief washing over him like water, ‘’THAT’S MAH BOY.’’

   ‘’Keep your voice down, N’Jadaka!’’

   ‘’Look At my little cousin, man, taking chances and going on dates and getting numbers.’’

   ‘’I am literally a month younger than you, N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’Don’t care, man,’’ Erik shrugs as he sees it and Sanaa returning, ‘’We gon’ talk about this some more later.’’

   It’s communicated only through a hand pat on the back, but N’Jadaka supports him. So the fact that another important person in his life supports this enough.

   T’Challa don't miss the fact that N’Jadaka sends him a smirk when he notices you intertwining your finger with his.

   He has his hand on your knee during dinner, gripping tightly as you two finish your food.

   ‘’Erik and I are gonna hit up a party. Don’t wait up,’’ Sanaa hugs you before turning to T’Challa and shaking his hand, ‘’Bye, T’Challa. It was nice to meet you.’’

   ‘’Likewise, Sanaa,’’ he states before looking to Erik, ‘’I will see you tomorrow, N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’See you, man. Catch you later.’’

   Sanaa and Erik walk off, and you somehow doubt that, even if nothing major happens, she’ll be home tonight.

   T’Challa grabs your hand again, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he guides you to the car.

   The car ride to your apartment is filled with laughter and chatter as you to rehash tells of your time playing paintball.

   ‘’N’Jadaka is his real name. Erik is the name he uses with new people and in school sometimes. Plus, it was easier for Shuri to say ‘Erik’ when she was younger, and now it’s easier for Autumn to say it.  If he likes you and trusts you, though, he lets you call him ‘N’Jadaka’.’’

   ‘’Good to know,’’ you nod, admiring their close relationship.

   ‘’Still mad at you.’’

   You gape at the handsome man, ‘’What did I do?!’’

‘’That girl, Annabelle.., yeah, we never should have let her join our team! We should've gone with her brother,’’ T’Challa shakes his head amused.

   ‘’She actually shoot paintballs at me, like, girl! We are on the same team! We just lost!’’

   ‘’Can we please discuss how N’Jadaka and Sanaa’s dance is the Cabbage Patch? Like, why is that both of their go-to dance?’’

   ‘’Because they are a match made, T’Challa,’’ you giggle.

   He sombers up a bit, eyes trained on the road,and you worry if you said the wrong thing.

   ‘’They really are. He seems happy. This was god for him, ‘’T'Challa says as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex.’’

   He pulls into a parking spot, turning off the car and pulling the key out of the ignition.

   ‘’So… I really like you,’’ T’Challa says, turning to you.

   ‘’I really like you, too, T’Challa.’’

   ‘’I’m not… I don’t want to rush into anything. I can’t afford to. Not with Autumn,’’ T’Challa reminds you.

   ‘’I know. I don’t, like… I don’t want to rush into this, either. It’s just not me, I can’t go fast,’’ you agree with him.

   ‘’I would really like to see you again,’’ T’Challa says earnestly.

   ‘’I’d like to see you again, too.’’

   ‘’Great! We can work it out for next weekend sometime. Um… can I kiss you again?’’

   You nod, and he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips like he did eight days ago.

   For some reason, the spark ignites a fire that burns inside you, and it is a fire of bravery. That is why you ask him: ‘’Do you want to come up?’’

   He nods, knowing that Autumn is safe and sound at his parent’ house.

   He has one thing he never seems to have enough of during the day: time.

   T'Challa won’t lie and act like he doesn’t want to spend it with you.

   ‘’I don’t want to, like… I don’t want you to think that…’’

   You trail off, trying to find the right words as ou fish for you keys.

   ‘’We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk. I just want to spend time with you.’’

   It’s softly spoken and sweetly stated,a node nothing but fan the flames of bravery that are rushing inside of you.

   So here you go.

   You talk.

   And talk.

   And talk.

   You discuss past relationships. How you haven't had someone since last year that you could just talk to like this.

   He tells you about his divorce and being a single dad.

   He loves her so, so rich that it makes you realize how truly they adore each other.

   He tells you more about Wakanda as you tell him more about your hometown, groin up, and your college years.

   His hand rests on your shoulder, playing with the fabric of your sweatshirt as you do so.

   And it’s nice, because you trust him. It has only been short while since you met, but there’s something about this man that you can’t quite explain.

   It’s just… nice.

   It’s twelve in the morning when he stands, grabbing his coat as you walk him to the door.

   ‘’Can I kiss you,’’ you ask this time.

   He chuckles and nods, pressing his lips to yours for the second time that night.

   This kiss is different, though. It deepens ,and suddenly his hands are in the pockets of your ripped,faded jeans as he lies across the couch, you on top of him. His lips are warm and full as they move against yours, and the only sounds are soft groans and the sounds of you two kissing.

   It’s hot and it’s passionate. This is not love, but it’s stronger than infatuation

   With a start, you realize what it is: potential.

   Potential for a relationship that could be well worth the leap you’d have to take.

Into possibly getting your heartbroken.

Into this not working out.

Into this being something beautiful.

He moans into the kiss, bringing you out of your thoughts.

He hasn’t been kissed like that in ages.

‘’That was amazing,’’ you breathe out as you sit up so that he can't stand up.

‘’It was,’’ he kisses you once more, letting your lips move together for a few more seconds, ‘’But I must get home.’’

You stand to let him out then, a final goodbye kiss punctuating the last sentence in the story of your second date.

You go to sleep with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your stomach.

Across the city, T’Challa does the same thing.

Something was born tonight: potential.

Potential for something great, a for a good and healthy relationship that the both of you deserve.

It’s up to you to grow that potential into a reality.

But based on the goodnight text and third date idea he just sent you before you went to sleep…

You have no worries about that being a problem.

DISCLAIMER- I DO NOT OWN MARVEL CHARACTERS OR THEIR FICTIONAL WORLDS, UNIVERSES, OR COUNTRIES. 

@ashanti-notthesinger​ @destinio1​ @afraiddreamingandloving​ @starsshines-blog​ @airis-paris14​ @syreanne​ @chaneajoyyy​ @90sinspiredgirl​ @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @bidibidibombaclaat @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx

[storytaeme]

watch me – day 26

spoopy kinktober drabbles – NC17

➵ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Park Jimin

➵ Prompt: Exhibitionism ↪ content: camboy, blowjob, rimming, spanking

➵ Word Count: 3,047 words

“Good evening, everyone,” Yoongi smiled at the camera. His laptop screen displayed a small rectangular frame that showed him how he looked to his audience. And he looked fucking delicious if he had to admit. He had moisturized his skin nicely with some of that fragrant body shop stuff from one of his viewers, stuck on a worn-out t-shirt that his audience loved, and a pair of cotton panties his boyfriend had gifted him last Christmas.

Perfect.

The comments began rolling in, stacking atop one another to welcome back Yoongi into his channel. He smirked at the attention, basked in it. The main reason Yoongi made his account was due to his desperation for money. The second was because he adored being adored. It was simple really—a double win situation for him.

"It's nice to see you all back here with me," he gave a little wave, greeting some of the usernames that stood out to him, mainly those who had been around for much longer that Yoongi tended to recognize them in the message box. "Today, I've got something special planned for all of you."

Yoongi on camera was a brat. He acted like a brat who needed to be punished, reveled in the punishments and instructions thrown his way by his viewers who loved seeing him cry into his sheets as he split his ass open with one of his many toys. Or two at once if he felt like it.

However, it was different with his boyfriend of two years. "I've got a very special guest with me. Now, it's taken me very long to convince him to come on so I hope you all give him a very warm welcome. Baby, come here." Yoongi offered an open hand out to Jimin who was shying away on the side, watching his boyfriend curiously. He fidgeted for a while and Yoongi quirked an eyebrow in question, as if asking if he was okay.

With a newly resolute smile, Jimin nodded and stepped into the camera. He was clad in one of Yoongi's shirts, a pink one that matched the shade of his hair and the softness of this skin. And soon, the glow of his ass.

"That's right, this is my boyfriend, Jimin. Say hi, baby," he nudged Jimin lightly with his shoulder with an encouraging smile.

"Hi," Jimin whispered shyly.

Yoongi chuckled, sliding an arm around the boy's waist. It always seemed to comfort Jimin and it was no different this time when he felt his boyfriend melt into him. "Louder, baby."

"Hello, I'm Jimin," Jimin beamed, eyes crinkling this time into adorable crescents.

The comments section blew up, beginning to fill up with small tips, minor donations to urge them continue. Everyone was praising Jimin for being so cute and brave, for being so pretty. Jimin went wide-eyed as he attempted to keep track of what everyone was saying. It was proving difficult considering Yoongi had thousands of subscribers and hundreds of them were active in the comments at the same time.

"Look at that, baby," Yoongi brightened proudly, "everyone thinks you're so pretty, they love your thick lips."

Jimin blushed shyly at the praise, tugging on the hem of his shirt. "Ah, thank you so much. I appreciate all your comments."

"Now, you guys get to decide what I'll be doing to Jiminie here today," Yoongi nuzzled his nose into his boyfriend's neck, breathing in his sweet scent. "We're going to have so much fun today so we'll leave it up to the highest bidders. Of course, we're only going to be doing those that we're comfortable with so try to go easy on us today."

Yoongi's sweet voice seemed to appease his audience as they began commenting easier suggestions, ones that seemed to put Jimin's heart at ease. They talked for a little while and Jimin would introduce more of himself to Yoongi's viewers as they tossed questions his way. It was endearing to see how the two parts of his life mingled together.

He had been nervous when he told Jimin about what he was doing but his boyfriend had taken it in stride (that was, after panicking for a good amount of time about how it was holy shit, this is big news). However, they made a pact. As long as Yoongi didn't touch anyone else, Jimin didn't mind if Yoongi kept his show going.

"Alright, let's see what we have," Yoongi skimmed through the requests, scrolling down the list and rearranging it by bids. "So highest bid is for… a collar." Yoongi turned to look at Jimin then whose lips parted in surprise. "What do you think, babe? Think you can handle it?"

Jimin bit on his bottom lip and nodded, his shy smile masking his eagerness.

Yoongi chuckled knowingly, "Jiminie here loves chokers and necklaces, so getting a collar won't be a big deal for him." He moved down the list again, "And second we have rimming. Perfect, I love eating Jimin out. Good job, taestydick." Jimin giggled cutely at the username.

After reading out the last of it and picking out the ones they can and would like to do, Yoongi pointed down to his lap, which would display on the screen as a signal to click on the premium channel. "Now, if you all are ready, follow us to the premium channel and we're going to give you a very good time."

--

Jimin let out a small whine when Yoongi tugged on the strap, the black leather tightening around his neck and cutting off his air flow. However, the younger followed suit, crawling over to Yoongi and slotting their lips together. Their tongues battle together, wet and sloppy, Yoongi swallowing every one of Jimin's gasps as his hands roamed his boyfriend's chest. He was growing impatient, quickly tugging the shirt over his head and flinging it aside carelessly.

"H-hyung," Jimin whimpered, "want your cock in my mouth."

God, Jimin was always such a little minx in bed. He never thought his boyfriend could be any sexier than when he was a tease, but Jimin begging was in another league altogether. The boy would lean forward on his hands and knees as Yoongi faced him. The two of them were situated in front of the camera, too clouded by their hazy lust to pay attention to the comments filling up with compliments for the couple.

"Okay, baby," Yoongi murmured, hands reaching down to tug his panties off. He had given his audience a good show earlier, shaking his ass and lifting up his shirt tantalizingly so they could get a good glimpse of his pert ass. Then he had shown off Jimin's—Jimin's perfect, supple, thick ass that he loved to nibble on. His boyfriend had a grade A ass that anyone would tap, that was a fact.

Jimin barely spared a glance at the lens that kept adjusting to focus on him. The only thing he could keep his eyes on was Yoongi's pair of underwear. A pretty striped one with pastel pink and pure white, completed with a pink bow in the middle. If he didn't know that Yoongi could fuck the living daylights out of him, he would be attempting to fuck the living daylights out of Yoongi.

"Wait," Jimin halted his movements and instead shifted forward, nosing into Yoongi's crotch. It stirred something in him to see the pretty head of Yoongi's cock, pink and throbbing, peeking out from the hem. Yoongi was decently sized, big enough to always have Jimin whimpering whenever he slid in for the first time. But seeing the length stuffed into such a tiny piece of lingerie had Jimin moaning internally. "You're so pretty, hyung, so cute like this. Your cock looks so nice all framed pretty like a picture," he giggled, toying with the head lightly with the tip of his finger.

Yoongi released a deep moan when the pad of his finger pressed down against the slit, Jimin swirling it around and pressing his sensitive cock against the pair. "J-Jimin-ah, come on. Hyung wants your mouth."

The younger nodded, smiling tauntingly at his boyfriend, before he opened his mouth and his teeth caught the lace trimming. He pulled it down slightly, hands-free, just enough to have Yoongi's cock popping free. The thick shaft bobbed lightly against Yoongi's stomach as the elder squeezed his eyes shut to the gorgeous sight of Jimin's eyes widening in delight, his full lips separating in an anticipatory sign.

"So pretty," Jimin murmured thoughtfully, his hands lifting to wrap around the length. Jimin—Jimin had small hands, adorable hands. They could barely manage to wrap around the cock as Jimin began to stroke him slowly, brows furrowed in concentration as he zoned in on every twitch of muscle Yoongi produced, every escaped choke he let out. Jimin knew the ins and outs of Yoongi's pleasure, knew how to curl his fingers, twisting them ever so lightly and tightening to squeeze a satisfied moan from the man's lips.

However, Jimin was even better at giving head. His lips—God, his fucking gorgeous lips—slid over the head, stretching around the bulbous tip to accommodate it into his mouth. Yoongi watched, dazed, as his member disappeared, inch by inch, ever so slowly into the tight, overwhelming heat of Jimin's mouth. The slickness of his saliva coated his cock almost immediately, layering it with liquid that eased his process of sliding the shaft in and out of his mouth. Jimin circled his tongue around the length in swirls, hollowed out his cheeks as he sucked Yoongi deep into his mouth. His jaw relaxed as Yoongi began pushing into his mouth, hips moving slowly as he fucked the insides of his cheeks.

"God," Yoongi purred, "you look so pretty sucking my cock like this. Look at everyone watching you." He nodded his head to his screen where the comments were blowing up. "They love you so much, Jiminie. They think you're so pretty taking my cock like a good boy."

Jimin moaned around his cock, the hum sending electricity shooting through his veins. It almost felt like having one of his vibrators attached to his cock. Fuck. Jimin seemed motivated by Yoongi's words, sucking him in harder and faster, had Yoongi's toes curling into his sheets as his fingers buried themselves in Jimin's thick locks.

"That's right, baby," Yoongi cooed again, "everyone loves how well you take my cock. You're such a good boy." Jimin shivered at the phrases of praises leaving Yoongi's mouth, delighting in them. He smiled around Yoongi's cock as he suckled and licked up his boyfriend's length. What he couldn't fit into his mouth, his hands would cover, stroking down to the base and tugging on his balls. Yoongi hissed when Jimin scraped his teeth lightly over the skin, pulling his head back by a yank of his hair. "Fuck, baby, you're going to make me come like that. I don't want to come just yet."

The younger whined slightly, lips jutting out in a protesting pout. "I want to suck your cock again."

"Won't let myself come yet, baby," Yoongi grinned, "I want to taste that pretty, thick ass of yours first." He patted Jimin's cheek, urging him to shift positions to get on all fours. Jimin did as he was told, this type with his ass facing the camera. Yoongi kneeled on the side for a little while, hands spreading apart Jimin's ass to grant his subscribers a magnificent view of his puckered hole stretching and closing with every movement. "Isn't he cute, everyone? His hole is so tight, just begging to be fucked open." Messages of agreement filled the chat box along with gracious donations from appreciative viewers. "God, Jiminie, you're such a tease. Everyone loves looking at this gorgeous ass of yours," Yoongi crawled off the bed to shift the camera closer to his ass, giving everyone a nice close up of Jimin squirming around uncomfortably.

Jimin tossed a look over his shoulder, one of desperation and pure hunger. "H-hyung, please. Can you eat me out? I-I wanna feel your tongue buried deep inside my ass."

Yoongi took a deep breath and nodded, settling himself in front of Jimin's ass and leaning forward. First, he pressed his tongue against the base of Jimin's cock where his balls were, teasing them as he pushed Jimin forward into the bed. Then he dragged it all the way up to the hole, shoving it in and eliciting a pretty suqeka out of his boyfriend who hadn't been expecting the sudden intrusion. Yoongi worked quickly, tongue expertly swirling around to stretch out his opening, then pushing in again to fight against the tightening muscles.

Growling, he let his hand fly and come down on Jimin's ass. The crack resounding throughout the room and surely to be picked up by the microphone on his camera. He could see the skin beginning to turn a subtle shade of red and the caveman in him growled in excitement. It was so pretty, too pretty. He loved how fast Jimin's skin caved to color, how the soft creaminess glowed a brighter red with every blow he landed unsparingly on his boyfriend's ass.

Jimin jerked forward with every hit, gasping a choked breath as he tried to keep his cock from reacting too much to the spanks. But it was near impossible when Yoongi was unrelenting, barely giving him two seconds to catch his breath and control his desire before bringing his hand down on his skin again. His ass was stinging, throbbing. It was so, so sensitive, but that made it even better for Yoongi who was taking pleasure in the fact that Jimin was whining and mewling uncontrollably.

His ass was so pained, aching with the lasting imprint of Yoongi's palm on his skin. But that action had amplified his sensitivity, making every cool touch of Yoongi's tongue even more worth it each time. The pain was too much, his skin was burning like the sun had kissed him. Yoongi soothed it gently with his palm, softly, sweetly. However, his mouth was merciless as he buried his nose deeper into the crack of his ass as his tongue delved deep, stroking the walls and forcing it open.

"Yoongi, Yoongi," Jimin panted, "I'm going to—fuck—I'm going to come, baby."

Yoongi pulled away long enough to take a breath of fresh air, grinning proudly as he looked back over his shoulder to check the comment box. Everyone was enthusiastic, talking about how pretty Jimin's voice was all high-pitched and raspy with desire. "Look at you, honey," Yoongi beamed smugly, "everyone fucking loves you. You should be here all the time. You love being watched anyway, everyone would love to see you get your ass wrecked."

"Y-yeah, oh God, I want that," Jimin panted hungrily, nudging his ass back for more stimulation. Judging by the way his cock was dripping precome messily all over his sheets, twitching uncontrollably, Jimin was close to his climax.

"Okay, baby, think you can come for all of us?" Yoongi detached the camera from the tripod, ushering Jimin to switch position and lie on his back, legs lifted up over Yoongi's shoulder. Instead of having the camera settle, Yoongi held it in his hand as he hovered it above Jimin, giving the viewers a complete view of his abs that flexed with its line shifting as he took deep breaths. "So pretty, Jiminie baby," Yoongi praised and Jimin's face scrunched up in delight.

"Hyung, please, please, wanna come," Jimin pleaded.

Yoongi lifted the camera to give a glimpse of his face, cheeks puffed up, eyes blown wide, lips swollen. God, Jimin really was a sight to behold. "Ask them, baby, ask them if you can come."

Jimin moaned in annoyance but knew he had no other choice. "Can I pretty please come? I really, really want to come for hyung."

His boyfriend chuckled, pleased, and glanced to his screen. Their audience were quickly throwing in their donations and tips, urging Jimin to come and thanking him for being such a good boy for all of them. "Okay, baby, let's finish you off, yeah?" Somehow, Yoongi managed to maneuver into a position where he could hold the camera up to Jimin's cock, a wonderful picture of the member leaking and pulsating painfully, as he mouthed at his rim again. Yoongi's teeth caught onto the entrance, tugging lightly as he sank his tongue back in, swirling it harder and faster.

Jimin came with heavy breaths then, come streaking across his chest and stomach in an abstract design that deserved to be framed in a modern art museum. Yoongi continued to eat him out, pushing him to milk more of his orgasm out for his viewers. The boy's labored breathing caused his chest to rise and fall as he tried to regain his composure, legs still quaking with the force of his orgasm.

He slumped back, hair matted against his forehead with the sweat that had collected on his face. Yoongi chuckled, proud of having gotten Jimin to get off on his very first (and hopefully not last) cam show. He shifted upwards to come face to face with his boyfriend, leaning forward to place a sweet kiss on his lips.

"You did good, babe," Yoongi whispered, hopefully small enough that only Jimin would catch this intimate moment and not the rest of his watchers.

Jimin's eyes softened, his face visibly relaxing as it did every time he was coming down from his high. Yoongi felt a thudding in his chest, his heart beating aloud his love for this wonderful, incredible boy whom he was so lucky to have. "Yeah?" he murmured back, "did they like it?"

Yoongi smirked, rolling his eyes. "Do you even need to ask? You were fuckin' wonderful, you killed it. We raked in a lot, I'll treat you to a nice dinner sometime."

"Mmm," he hummed happily, "sounds like a good deal. But for now—" Jimin snatched away the camera from Yoongi's grasp before flipping them around, holding the device up so it would catch Yoongi's face. "I'm going to finish sucking you off and you're going to come for everyone. Okay, baby?"

Yoongi has created a monster.

He laughed, "Okay, baby."

[faierius]

Pyrexia Chapter 3 (Gladnis)

Noctis scowled deeply at a particularly puzzling math problem before glancing across the giant oak table at Ignis. His life-long companion itched his cheek and winced when his fingernail grazed a rather painful-looking zit.

“Ignis, I'm bored!” whined Noct, flopping forward on the surface of the table in a display specifically catered to Ignis.

“I was instructed to keep you at this table until you complete your homework, Highness,” replied Ignis, his voice breaking, pitching up and down on the I in Highness. He frowned, readjusting his glasses and clearing his throat.

A wide grin brightened the young prince's features. “Oh, man! That will never not be funny!” he cackled.

“I doubt you'll find it so humorous when your voice begins to break as well,” the teen grumbled, closing a textbook and looking up at Noctis.

Arms stretched out on the table, Noctis shrugged. “Probably not, but it's funny as hell when it's you. And Gladio.”

“Watch your tongue, Highness.”

Groaning, Noct rolled his eyes. “C'mon Ignis! Let's go outside. It's snowing!”

“The forecast didn't call for snow,” muttered Ignis, twisting in his seat to look out the floor-length windows. Sure enough, large powdery flakes fell from the gray sky. His eyebrows rose behind his glasses, his green eyes sparkling. He stared for a moment before turning back to his books. His shoulders drooped, nose twitching briefly as he scowled at the textbook. Conflict flashed in his eyes, myriad emotions darkening his irises.

Noctis watched duty and fun war in Ignis' sharp features, feeling just a little bad for him. Not horrible, as this was typical behavior for the teen. It always had been. But he felt bad enough to convince him to take the afternoon off for once.

Tilting his head, he stared across the table at Ignis. He watched as his friend scribbled something in his notebook, the furrow between his brows deepening. It only took an additional thirty seconds for Ignis to life his head.

“I do not wish to be scolded because you refuse to do your work yet again, Noct. Please stop staring and focus on your books.”

Noctis drew his brows together, eyes widening ever so slightly. The corners of his mouth curved down with a hint of a pout.

A low grumble emanated from Ignis' throat as he set down his pencil. “That expression may work on His Majesty, but it will not work on me. Resume your studies.”

“It works on Clarus and Cor, too. If it works on the Marshal, it has to work on you,” Noct replied, acknowledging his sneaky tactic. He dialed up the puppy-dog eyes and tilted his head. “Please, Iggy?”

Ignis' nostrils flared as he heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “Will you finish your homework when we come back inside?”

Sitting up straight, Noctis grinned as he slammed his books shut. “Yup!”

Closing his eyes, Ignis shook his head in a manner more befitting a thirty-year-old than a thirteen-year-old. He knew he shouldn't indulge such fancies when work needed to be done, his own included, but Noctis rarely enjoyed himself anymore. He moped about, never smiled, barely spoke...Some days Ignis felt as though someone had taken the young prince's place in Tenebrae, and the person before him was not the friend he used to know.

So, much to his annoyance, Ignis indulged the prince on occasion.

Grinning, Noctis cast frequent glances over his shoulder to see if Ignis was still with him. Together, they found their jackets, boots, mittens, and scarves, and headed out to the Citadel gardens.

“You should cover your ears, Noct. His Majesty would have my hide were you to fall ill,” Ignis said as he tugged a wool cap over his head.

Stooping over to grab a handful of fluffy snow, Noctis shook his head. “It's not that cold,” he replied. Snow clung to his dark hair, peppering the black strands with twinkling white spots.

“Your nose is already turning red.”

Frowning at the powder in his hand, Noctis dropped it back to the ground. It was too dry for snowballs or snowmen. “Stop talking like an old man and have fun for once!”

“I don't talk like an old man,” huffed Ignis, picking up his own handful of snow and tossing it half-heartedly at Noctis.

The young prince snorted, his breath puffing out in a white cloud. “You sound like everyone on my dad's counsel. C'mon let's go make snow angels!” Grabbing Ignis' hand, Noctis pulled him through barren garden paths toward a large, bare tree. The spot was good for a nap or picnic during warmer months, but right now it was a flat blanket of untouched white snow. The big tree stood lonely in the middle, waiting for the time of year when it would be the center of attention again.

Ignis allowed himself to be pulled along, wrinkling up his nose when they stepped into the ankle deep pile and some worked its way under his pant leg, freezing his skin. Most children would have loved to be out playing in the snow, but Ignis was not most children. The prospect of being cold and wet sullied any enjoyment he may glean from whatever winter activities Noctis may have in mind.

Noctis released Ignis, took a couple long strides into the snow, turned around, and fell flat on his back. The snow was so loose and powdery, it puffed up in a cloud at the impact.

With crossed arms and raised brow, Ignis watched the bow swish his arms and legs through the fluffy precipitation to create the snow angel. When he was satisfied with the shape he created, Noctis carefully sat up and extracted himself from the vaguely angel-shaped hole. Joining Ignis, he shook snow from the collar of his coat and tilted his head to admire his work.

“Perfect!” he decided, casting a quick grin at Ignis. “Now it's your turn.”

“I would rather not.”

“Ignis,” whined Noct, drawing out the second I. “It's no fun by myself.”

Ignis rolled his eyes in a fair imitation of Clarus Amicitia after King Regis told a bad joke. “Just one. Then perhaps we can do something where I don't have to roll around on the ground.”

Noctis gave Ignis a shove.

With an undignified yelp, Ignis pitched forward, arms reeling. He landed on his belly in a poof of snow. He remained still for a moment before getting his arms under him and sitting up. His shoulders shook with cold and anger.

“Highness!” he squawked, voice cracking. He faced the boy, fixing his glasses as he turned in his nest of powder. With mitten-clad hands, he tugged his cap further down over his ears.

Watching Ignis huff, his nose and cheeks bright red, Noctis' lips began to twitch. The tremble moved from his lips to his shoulders as a tiny giggle bubbled inside him. The giggle morphed into a steady laugh, then a body shaking, eye tearing roar. Noctis howled with laughter, falling onto his backside and holding his sides.

Nostrils flaring with a sigh, Ignis pushed himself to his feet and dusted snow off his clothes as he waited for Noctis' laughter to subside. It seemed a touch excessive, but since he couldn't recall the last time Prince Noctis laughed, he let him be.

Licking his lips, Ignis crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto one leg. It took a while for Noctis' breathing to even out, but when he finally slowed to a pant, Ignis leaned over him where he stretched out on his back.

“It wasn't that funny.”

“It was hilarious! Didn't make a very nice snow angel, though,” Noctis teased, bouncing to his feet despite the stiffness in his back and knee.

Ignis peeked over his shoulder to see the mark he left in the snow. It looked like it had been made by a baby garula with a poor sense of equilibrium.

“I was hardly trying to create anything!” Ignis pursed his lip.

“Did your uncle tie your tie too tight today or something? You've got a stick up your ass.”

“Prince Noctis!” Ignis' eyes flew wide behind his glasses.

“What? Clarus says it about Cor all the time.” Frowning, Noctis kicked at the snow.

“That does not mean you can repeat it to others!”

Noctis lolled his head back in his shoulders, groaning up at the low clouds. “I brought you out here to have fun. As my friend, not my babysitter.” The flat, non-expression that usually rest upon Noctis' face since his return from Tenebrae resumed its place. “Never mind. Let's just go back.”

Something in Ignis' chest tightened. “Noctis, wait.”

The boy raised his big, dark blue eyes.

“Shall we go to the pond? It's really pretty when it snows.”

After a moment's hesitation, Noctis nodded.

Heading back to the path, the boys remained silent as they walked toward the pond. Their boots crunched on the snow and a light breeze whistled through tree branches. As they neared the water, Ignis glanced over at Noctis. His head was down, eyes on his feet, shoulders up around his ears and hands shoved into his pockets. His chunky scarf hid the lower half of his face, but Ignis was sure he was pouting. He opened his mouth to apologize when Noctis raised his head. His blue eyes widened and a grin brightened his features.

“Whoa! It's totally frozen this year!”

“We have had below average temperatures this winter,” Ignis pointed out as Noctis ran to the edge of the pond. As he watched the boy slide a foot out onto the ice, a knot formed in his gut. “I wouldn't advise walking on it, Highness. We don't know how thick the ice is.”

“It's fine.” Noctis ventured further out onto the pond, carefully testing his weight with each step. When he was close to the center of the ice, he stopped and bounced a few times. “See?”

Ignis studied the ice through the shuffling footprints Noctis left in his wake. He saw no cracks and heard no breaking ice.

Noctis held out his hand toward the older boy. “Come on, Iggy!”

Sighing heavily, Ignis stepped out onto the frozen surface of the pond. It felt solid enough beneath his feet. He was glad for his bulky mittens because Noctis would surely tease him for his trembling hands. Though as he made his way to the prince, his fear lessened some. There was no give in the ice sheet, no noises to indicate fractures, no water bubbling up beneath his boots.

A quiet, relieved chuckle hissed from Ignis when he slid to a stop before Noctis, instinctively grabbing his hands to steady himself.

“Okay?” An amused twinkle brightened normally pained blue eyes as Noctis looked up at Ignis.

Ignis inclined his head.

“Good.” Making sure Ignis wasn't going to fall over, Noctis pushed himself away from the teen. He slid across the ice in his boots as effortless as if he wore ice skates.

Cautiously, Ignis followed. His boots slipped over the powder covered ice as he tried to keep up with Noctis. He managed to keep his balance, though just barely.

“Hey, we should go skating for your birthday!” Noctis suggested when he saw a whisper of enjoyment cross Ignis' features. “Not just you and me, but all of us! Gladio, Iris, Clarus...I'll even ask my dad!”

“I would very mu—I'd like that.” Ignis raised his eyes from his feet to look at Noctis. He smiled at the boy.

Noctis' features flushed red and he turned away from Ignis. “T-then it's settled. I'll talk to dad at dinner.” The boy puffed out his cheeks in an adorable pout.

Hiding his mouth behind his hand, Ignis chuckled at the prince's embarrassment. Some days he wondered if Noctis knew how cute he was.

“Race you to the other side!”

Startled from his thoughts, Ignis spun on his heel to chase Noctis. His feet shot out from under him and he fell hard onto his backside. A loud crack echoed through the still garden and Ignis' eyes widened behind his glasses. His first instinct was to scramble away as fast as he could, but logic told him abrupt shifts in weight would only make this worse.

“Noct,” breathed Ignis, his voice calmer than he felt. “I fear I have shattered the ice beneath me.” Lifting one hand, he saw the spider web of cracks and the first signs of water leaking onto the surface.

Panic immediately replaced the expression on Noctis' face. “W-w-what should I do?” he asked, inching close.

“Stay put. Don't come closer. I'll have to carefully shift my position until I can move to safety.” Another loud crack punctuated his words. Ignis dropped an inch and his backside felt cold and wet. Water was flooding through the break now. Ignis' heart hammered in his chest and he was sure his shivering had nothing to do with the ice water saturating his clothes.

“Ignis, you have to move!”

“I know!” Fear locked Ignis to the spot. He didn't want to drown or freeze or die of hypothermia. Logic deserted him and he pushed himself off the ice. As he tried to stand, his legs broke through the surface.

“Ignis!”

Noctis' terrified face was the last thing he remembered seeing before painful cold washed over him and he fell into the icy pond.

[lepus-arcticus]

Indiscretion

Mulder & Phoebe, and a certain youthful indiscretion atop Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s tombstone on a misty night in Windlesham. It’s not my fault. I had to write it to exorcise the demon. NC-17. --- Phoebe’s long umber hair swung in the night, slicing through the fog and sending vapors whirling under the dim flicker of the old sentinel streetlamps. A lit cigarette, as slim and long and white as her thigh, dangled between her fingers. He thought to himself that if any moment embodied her, this would be it - traipsing along an ancient, misty street in black leather over pale cashmere, utterly wicked, drunk on brandy and power. Phoebe was brilliant, beautiful, and completely fucking psychotic. He was twenty-two, and painfully, pathetically in love. 

“Come now, Mulder,” she oozed, her thick molasses voice muffled in her throat. He loathed her voice. No, he adored her voice. No, he hated it. At any rate, something about those swallowed, round, hiccupy London consonants drove him to the brink of madness. “We’ve got an appointment I’d like to keep.” “Pheebs,” he groaned, “What could possibly be more important than this?” He caught her around the waist and thumbed her erect, brassiere-less nipple through her sweater, but she whirled away, laughing, brushing the bright, burning cherry of her smoke over his arm in the process. He ground his teeth against the brief, searing heat, and glanced at his watch - “C’mon, it’s 2:45. Let’s get back to the hotel.” He lowered his voice, trying to sound sexy. “I want you.” “I promise you, this is going to be worth it. I’ve got some witching hour fun planned for us.” She smiled, her teeth sharky in the night, and casually tugged the V of her sweater to the side, freeing a wobbling, chestnut-nippled breast. She circled her areola and gave the nub one good pinch, then shrugged the fabric back in place with feline expertise. Hook, line, sinker. She tossed her cigarette into the gutter, and darted off, heels clacking on the cobble. “Catch me if you caaa-aan -” She singsonged. Mulder, giving chase, decided that it would be quite nice to push her up against the nearest building wall and fuck her until she forgot her own name. Phoebe was faster than him. She was also cooler than him, smarter than him, and, he was beginning to suspect, more fucked up than him, which was a notable feat. He caught up to her near a low stone wall, panting, his lungs blistering against his ribs. “Where…” “All Saints Churchyard.” She breathed, and then melted into him and licked his neck. The wooden gate was locked, but low, and she tore away from him and vaulted over it with ease. She was tall, Phoebe, which was nice - their bodies lined up pretty much perfectly, and he took it as a sign. He followed her, heaving himself over the gate and into what he could see now was a graveyard. The mist hung low and heavy. She seemed to know exactly where they were going, flitting through the tombstones and throwing him naughty looks over her shoulder. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, Phoebe in the starlet’s role, a slutty, ghastly succubus hell-bent on draining his balls. Mulder caught up to her and fisted her hair, and she gasped in delighted pain as he yanked her back towards him for a sloppy kiss. God, if she could just let him win, once, if she could just behave - She bit his lip, hard, drawing blood, and peeled away from him when he let her go in surprise. He should have known better. She was so good at making him bleed. 

“Almost there, darling, patience,” she purred, tonguing a smear of his blood from the corner of her mouth. She grasped his hand with her sharp kitten paw and pulled him through a labyrinth of overgrown, moss-ruined epithets, finally stopping before a large cross set in a half-moon anchorstone. There was a smoking pipe and a spray of rotting lilies leaning up against the grave. He looked at her expectantly, and she chuffed. “Read it, you daft thing.” The mist swirled around them as he squatted and squinted into the dark. STEEL TRUE BLADE STRAIGHT ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE KNIGHT PATRIOT, PHYSICIAN & MAN OF LETTERS “Phoebe, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he laughed. After an entire semester of quoting The Valley of Fear back and forth to one another, she’d brought him to Arthur Conan Doyle’s fucking grave. That’s what this weekend trip had been about. God, he loved her so ardently that he was sure it wasn’t healthy. He stood up and gathered her into a sweet, slow kiss, and then she was pushing him backwards until the cold stone of the cross pressed between his shoulderblades. “Stay still,” she demanded, digging her nails into his jaw. She fluttered down to her knees, and before he could register what was happening, she’d worked open his belt and unearthed his half-hard cock. “Pheebs-” he started to protest, but then she took him in her hot, evil little mouth, scraping him painfully with her teeth, and before he knew it, his hands were in her hair, and he was pushing into her throat with the fevered need of the desperately unhappy. She encouraged him, humming around his dick, darting her tongue out to graze his balls with each downstroke. God, she was good. He very badly needed to be inside of her. He tightened his grip on her hair and dragged her up by the scalp, shoving her face-first into the cross, ripping her expensive, prissy sweater up so she’d feel the cold stone on her tits. He flipped her skirt over her hips and pushed her tiny little panties to the side, stabbing two fingers roughly into her heat. “Condom,” she panted, laughing. “In my jacket pocket -” Mulder rooted around in her coat one-handed, fucking her with his fingers, until he found the ravioli square of foil. He ripped it open with his teeth, removed his hands from her to swiftly smooth it on, and wondered if there was a standing world-record for condom application and whether he should write the folks at Guinness. And then Phoebe pushed her tight little ass back onto him, catching his rubbered cock between her asscheeks. He adjusted the angle and shoved his entire length into the velvet clamp of her body. She cried out, and then laughed again, deep in her throat. The sound was infuriating. She was always laughing at him. At what she could reduce him to. He began to pound into her in earnest, and even through the condom, she was the hottest, wettest thing he’d ever experienced. He drove into her viciously, hoping her breasts were grating on the stone, hoping he was hurting her just a little. He released her hipbone to wrap a hand around her neck, and yanked her head back to his shoulder, so his mouth was next to her ear. He bit into her neck and sucked, hoping to mark her. As if writing his name on her would keep her from fucking other people. Or other people from fucking her. She’d never promised him exclusivity, she’d pointed out several times, but he wanted it, needed it, expected it all the same. “I love you,” he panted, pathetically, hating the sound of his own voice. “Come back with me.” She laughed again, and the humiliation of it burned in his gut, making his cock harder all the same. God, he was a sick fuck. “I mean it. Come back to America with me. I need you,” he husked between thrusts. “Oh, Fox -” she groaned, and he didn’t know if it was in pleasure or in derision. “Don’t fucking call me that.” he growled into her ear, and began to fuck her harder than he’d ever fucked anyone. His ass and thighs screamed with the effort of pounding into her, and she struggled to stay upright, mewling in a very satisfying way. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, and decided that this time he didn’t care if she came or not. He fisted her hair again, forcing her flush to the cross, and she wrapped her arms around it to stay upright, her lipstick rubbing off on the stone. He was stepping on the flowers, his bootheel sending a mulchy smell to linger with the salt of Phoebe’s beautiful, vexatious snatch. He thrust into her madly, roaring in the mist, and came in several hot spurts that squelched between his dick and the latex of the condom. Bliss. Emptiness. La petite mort. 

When he reawakened, Phoebe was smiling that insane Cheshire smile as she smoothed her skirt back over her hips. “Well, someone’s feeling tender tonight,” she teased, and rage and embarrassment and desperation boiled in his belly. “Shall we head back?” Her lips were cold as she planted a kiss on his cheek, utterly unaffected, even though he’d scraped and bruised and bitten her, told her he loved her, begged her to move across the ocean to be with him. It was strange, really, how love tasted so very much like hatred. 

[loudlydecadentkryptonite-blog]

Harold

“What the fuck Harold!” Janey pulled up her garment over her chest as she caught a glimpse of the next door neighbor’s head clearing the window sill. “You have a ton of nerve!”, she spat at him as his finger pushed back the Cheez Whiz snots that came driveling out of a pig-like sobbing snout. “I just wanted to talk . . . alone.”, the fat boy whined in a low monotone. “Just get the Hell out of here before I call the cops!”, she yelled hopping up and down like some preteen little bitch. The ladder scrapped loudly for a long instant then fell into silence for a half of a moment until the sound of a deadened impact on turf accompanied by another louder whine relieved the tension giving the young woman pause to laugh. “Serves you right you big moron!” The whimpering died away as the top of the ladder reappeared bobbing away to the house down the street off the half acre property that engulfed Janey’s abode.

How long would she have to contend with this big ‘lunk’ she wondered to herself. This was the third time this week that he had run into her! But of course this time it had become a little too up close and personal for her liking. The idea that some three-hundred and fifty pound moron was actively stalking her did not sit well. The rat probably got a good clear look at her pussy? Thank God she didn’t believe in shaving down there. She could see those big rubber lips of his slobbering spit as he talked. She trying to stay an arms length the other day on the sidewalk rolling her cart past the old claptrap fleabag apartments that he supposedly played fix-it man and building ‘super’. There was nothing but a bunch of cheap drunks and old ‘down and outer’s’ in the twelve rundown flats. By seven at night everyone must have been blotto each Friday drinking themselves to death. All of course, save for Harold who was always hanging out watching. Peering into neighborhood windows that he shouldn’t have. Janie was surprised he hadn’t been shot by now?

As a rule she’d be going out to the restaurant to work the midnight shift but tonight they only needed her til ten as they were going to shut down early to fix some pipes that were leaking bad. The guy in the bar name Bill always showed up just after midnight had always given her a ride home at the end of her shift without being grabby. She liked that about him. All these other damn cowboys must have had mothers that were octopuses as their hands were always wandering. Too bad she had sworn off men years back? The last customer was politely kicked out by 9:45 PM and the doors locked and lights out some fifteen minutes later. She hated to walk in the dark! But she wasn’t going to blow her measly night’s pay on a taxi. “Fucking bitch!”, she countered to the wind as she felt the first drops of rain upon her face as she was halfway down the first of seven blocks that she head to traverse. Well the good thing about rain is it might keep all the low lives in the pens. She clip clopped away into the darkness the occasional flash of occasional twin headlight beams of car headlamps making up for the absence of proper street lighting.

The seventh of the nine blocks reached she was soaked to the skin and feeling cold and uncomfortable. She thought about the Winter fur that had found its way to the pawn shop when she suffered a dry spell in the work department  several months back. This Salvation Army special cloth coat wasn’t worth shit in a light breeze. The light’s were dimmed in the back of the crummy old apartment that Harold  hung about. The rest of the windows looked more like carved hollows from a skull. The frequency of her pace picked up as she felt a pair of eyes that she could not see were staring at her. “God damn it!”, she said, “I hate this!” She turned to look over her left shoulder to see if there were any telltale shadows extending from the edge of the building that might be cast by one of the outside entry lights. But there was nothing. She was almost past the opposite end of the long swayback looking ‘cheez box’ when her heel hit a patch of broken cement and she went tumbling down to her knees with a loud screech. “Shit!”, she ranted bent over on both hands, I tore my goddamned stockings!” A big hand grabbed her shoulder and she let out another scream but this time much louder. The next thing she knew all had gone blank.

She woke up feeling sort of groggy wondering why she couldn’t see anything there being no light where ever she was. A rank smell of an old mildewed mattress swirled up into her nostrils. She tried to sit up but a big arm was laying on top of her like a tree trunk. Another odor of unwashed undershorts and rotten eggs hit her as the owner of the trunk moved his bare hairy leg over the two of hers. Harold was laying almost on top of her. A wave of anger hit her like an instantaneous burning fury but was extinguish equally fast when his weight shifted even more on top of her. ‘Hello!’ Harold mewed. “I love being this cozy, don’t you?” Janey felt like retching. This fat oily bastard was basically pinning her on a bare mattress in God knows what part of that decrepit shack of an apartment. His damp flabby abdomen nearly squeezing the air out of her diaphragm. he was wearing what had once been a T-shirt but seemed more like an oily rag three sizes too small and an incredibly rank stained set of briefs. “Let me up, will you!”, she said in a firm but even tone voice. Harold rolled off her a bit and she pulled herself out from under him and rose off the edge of the mattress. The room was not completely dark but dim. As she rose she hit her head and fell back onto her behind. Immediately two big hands swept around her chest and pressed hard around her breasts the fingertips seeking out the vertical fissure of the blouse. “You’ve got nice ‘tata’s”, Harold cooed in a childish tone. “I want to feel them, okay?” With that he pulled her bloused open one set of fingers pulling at her bra yanking that upward.

Before she could protest he had the jumble of the two pulled up to her neck over her face. “Ha ha ha!”, Harold crowed, “Are you ticklish?” And with that started grabbing at her flanks and belly and breasts pinching hard and poking as she tried to roll back and forward and away! As she strained to escape the rumpled clothing still half over her neck and elbow his hand yanked at the fron of her jeans and pulled them almost over her ass. The white of her buttocks subdivided by her crack was the target of the forefinger of the other hand as it joined the first pulling her panties along with her pants down past her knees. “My your so white and pretty!”, Harold sighed in a breathy exhale.  “I just want to touch you in places that I never touched before. A shiver came over Jainey now as having no other alternative to quickly break free she had to toss off her top garments to completely untangle her arms from their grip. “No!”, she spat firmly back, “I don’t want you to touch me anywhere!” “You don’t have the right to!” She twisted around almost out of his grip now with her ankles fouled in the folded over scrunch of her jeans and panties. His hands tightly gripped upon her ankle and one calf. She could see that a malevolent petulant frown was quickly forming on his face. “But I want to!”, he snarled.

She could feel his eyes upon her. Sweeping across her pointy little breasts to her abdomen quickly pumping air in and out like a small bellows. She felt them widen when they stopped at he crotch. “I wanta do it!”, he spat back” “Let’s do it, I never have!” Janey was at that point where escape was at best improbable. But the thought of this dirty foul smelling pig on top of her pushing his greasy dick inside her was unthinkable. She looked quickly from side to side carefully trying to see if there was something in arms reach that she could use to defend herself. His frustration at a boiling point he rolled forward and released the calf leaning hard over her thigh to grab at one of her arms to pull her to him. Her right hand darted back towards him her fingers cupped cat-like exposing her nails as she instinctively clawed at his bare arm. “Owww!” he hollered like some five year old! “You hurt me!” Her eyes opened wide startled by the fact that he had now taken a better grip upon her. They sat for a moment both frozen looking at each other. “I don’t want you to hurt me anymore!”, he blubbered. “So now I am going to have to tie you up!” With that he began to wind some clothes line around her captured wrist and then violently flipping her around in the opposite direction capturing her other wrist and tying the two tightly behind her. She tried to shake him off pulling and struggling as mightily as she could but he managed in a short while to have her laying face down on the stinking mattress with legs tied apart on its corners as her arms strained trying to break the bonds behind her back.

She kept rolling and struggled as much as was humanly possible until he felt his palm ram down hard on her lower back. “Pussie!”, he drooled as his other hand jammed down between her sweaty ass cheeks skipping into her anus for an instant then finding the back passage of her vagina opening. She grunted hard in pain as he tried to stuff her with a couple of his stubby fingers. “Tight!” he proclaimed with a leer. All she could think about in the instant was where was some unexpected hero with a gun like in a movie that could blow this asshole’s head off! The dirty motherfucker was trying to rip her opening apart with his thick fingers to stick his weasel into her. She could feel the tip of it bobbling around between her own asshole and her crotch trying to find purchase to find it’s way in. The room seemed to fill with a rotten smell of fishy foul breath as he began to grunt a harder and harder. The full weight of his whale-like blubber upon her. “Help!”, she began to scream at the top of her lungs mindlessly, “Help, someone!” “Please help me!” There was a smashing sound from somewhere close and the crash of a door being violently knocked open. Janey felt the weight of her rapist shift to his arms as he rose upward startled by the intervention. A loud bang followed by the immediate spray of something hit her like a blast of wind from a monsoon. The full weight of her aggressor fell flat upon her and then slid over to the side of the mattress with a bloody tangled stump of gore where there had been a head. She looked up into the blinding glare of a bright light.

“Are you alright maam?”, a male voice drawled? A figure came around into view on the opposite side of her and set about untying the ropes. The flashlight turned away revealing a police officer with his gun still drawn gripped in his right hand and his flashlight in the left. “Thank God that your friend Bill called the station and told us he hadn’t seen you tonight and that he thought that you might be in some danger!”, the other voice now disembodied said. Yeah, she said silently to herself. “Thank god! for Bill!”