#truly fucking rolling my eyes into the back of my skull

[kingkaisen]

“WELL, WE SHOULD PROBABLY FUCK, RIGHT?”

♡ — SUMMARY; you & gojo are both sealed away in the prison realm. with nothing else to do, you might as well start fucking, right?

♡ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — fem! reader, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), missionary, degrading nickname, best friends to friends with benefits, bickering, slightly jealous gojo, you & gojo are both the strongest sorcerers in the world.

♡ — A/N; based on this drabble (: I love this man sm, I’d do his taxes for him btw // also, pls don’t repost my gif!

♡ — WC; 3k

“This is all your fault, Satoru.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, so I was distracted,” Gojo kicked up his feet, placing his black boots across a pile of dusty skeleton heads as if he was at home, relaxing on his plush couch, and not trapped inside of the prison realm. “If I remember correctly – and I do remember correctly because it happened thirty seconds ago – you were distracted too. Who knew that seeing your dead classmate would throw you off?”

“Throw me off?” You frowned, moving around a pile of bones to sit down somewhat comfortably. “You nearly passed out. I saw it with my own eyes, Satoru.”

“Oh,” Giving a small chuckle, Gojo tilted his head a bit as he smirked. “So you could see that, but you couldn’t see the weird guy with the two short ponytails almost obliterate you?”

“I don’t remember that. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See this?” Gojo lifted a skull pressing against his right leg, and he dangled it in front of you. “This would’ve been you if it wasn’t for me.”

“You dumbass,” you paused, rolling your eyes, “because of you, we’re both gonna end up exactly like that skeleton. You do realize we’re trapped in here, right? No way out?”

“Calm down. Someone will save us. I have faith, don’t you?”

“Hell no,” a small sigh fell from between your lips, “and you know what? I hope we don’t get saved. The fact that we let ourselves get captured like this is embarrassing. I absolutely cannot leave this stupid box and look another sorcerer in the eye after this. I’d rather die.”

“You’re pretty dramatic,” Gojo sighed. “I hear you, though. We really screwed this up. We should’ve picked different careers. I could’ve been a really nice basketball coach.”

“I would’ve been a coffee shop owner.” Distracted by your own what-if daydreams, you mistakenly leaned back on a pile of skeletons, nearly jumping out of your skin once you remembered that you were indeed lying on a pile of skeletons. “Shit! I gotta get outta here, I can’t do this.”

“Just calm down, it isn’t so bad.” As Gojo adjusted himself, he grunted. “Remember when you dressed up as a skeleton for Halloween? You manifested this.”

“I should’ve never taught you that word,” frowning, you stood up, glancing around the dark inner workings of the prison realm. “How can you relax in a place like this? Aren’t you uncomfortable? Or at least a little bit scared?”

“Hmm, no.” Gojo grinned.

“I shouldn’t have asked. You’re too stupid to know when to be scared.”

“Ouch,” Gojo said dramatically, a hint of amusement coating his words. “Ya know, I’m glad you’re not a coffee shop owner. You’d probably toss random shit in someone’s coffee, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, please shut up.”

“You shut up,” Gojo retorted childishly.

Deep breathing exercises had certainly come in handy during moments such as this one.

Although years upon years had passed since you and Gojo were kids, running around in Halloween costumes and splitting popsicles, it felt as if no time had passed at all whenever you two held a conversation.

Even so, how exactly did it come to this?

Gojo never truly had an ordinary childhood — you were the only normal thing in his life at the time — but you grew up rather unextraordinary.

A normal girl, one who went to school and did her classwork before sneaking off to a secluded lake in the late afternoons with Gojo, skipping rocks and eating sandwiches together.

It was a beautifully plain life. One that was ripped away from you by curses and sorcery.

The only silver lining that truly existed was your old classmates; the dear friends you made once you attended Jujutsu High all those years ago, and in particular, a dark-haired, mellow guy.

“Must’ve been really hard for you,” Gojo suddenly mumbled, “seeing Suguru again. You two had gotten pretty close, right? Up until he . . . left?”

“What’s up with the mumbling? Now isn’t the time for you to get jealous.”

“I’m not,” Gojo mumbled once again, turning his head away from you. “It’s not like that was the real Suguru anyway. Our Suguru is gone for good.”

“Yeah.” The sad tone of your voice is what grabbed Gojo’s attention. One thing that was stronger than his jealousy over you and Geto’s old fondness for one another was his deep concern for you.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gojo smiled softly, facing you once again.

“Huh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I said come here.”

Hesitantly, you walked over to where Gojo was stretched out among the bones, sitting down on the ground beside him as best as you could with all the skeletons around. As you looked at him, it was rather impossible to understand how he could relax so comfortably.

“Come closer,” he held his arm out, waving you over.

“Why? What for?”

“‘Cause I wanna hold you, so just come here.” Suddenly, Gojo leaned up a bit, grabbing ahold of your wrist before pulling you on top of him.

With his other hand, he gripped the back of your thigh, moving your leg over his hips as he leaned back. He sighed with contentment once you were fully on top of him. Releasing your wrist, the white-haired man touched the side of your face, slowly guiding your head to his chest. “See? Isn’t this better than laying on those skeletons?”

“I guess so,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Why are you so tense?” Gojo guided his hand across one of your shoulders, and he started to rub it.

“Hard to relax when you’re trapped in the prison realm,” you paused. “Not to mention I’m literally laying on top of you.”

“So? We hug and stuff all the time.”

“This is more than hugging, and we’ve barely done that,” you smiled softly. “Kinda nice, though. You’re pretty warm.”

“You’re pretty warm too. And really soft.” With his other hand — the one that never left your thigh — Gojo slowly stroked you, gliding his hand up and down, but not daring to touch your ass just yet.

But he wanted to. Desperately.

Suddenly, Gojo shifted his body, squirming just a bit.

“You okay?” You questioned, lifting your head off of his chest to look at his blindfolded face. “Want me to get off?”

“No, not at all, everything’s fine,” Gojo lied.

Truth be told, his dick was starting to harden in his pants, and he could barely stand it.

“Oh, okay,” laying your head back down on Gojo’s chest, you spoke once again. “Satoru? What are we supposed to do until someone saves us? Just sit here and wait?”

“No, that’s a bad idea,” Gojo said.

“Then what should we do?”

Before he answered, Gojo placed his finger underneath his blindfold, pulling at it playfully.

“Well, we should probably fuck, right?”

It took a moment for Gojo’s sinful words to fully sink in. Upon realizing that you had heard him correctly, your head snapped up, your eyes widening with utter shock.

“What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart,” Gojo smirked. “No need to make such a big deal out of it. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but . . .” You paused, darting your eyes across the vast, skeleton-filled, dark space. “Here? Of all places?”

Gojo shifted once again. He gripped his pants, but he truthfully wanted to grip his cock instead.

“I’d fuck you anywhere,” Gojo said lowly. “I just think it’s time we finally fuck each other, don’t you?”

Suddenly, his large hand gripped the back of your head, and your best friend shoved his lips against yours.

“Hmm,” Gojo moaned softly, kissing you passionately with those sweet, feathery lips of his. Kissing you — finally, after so many years of dreaming about it — was a magical experience. Before, he never believed in soulmates or seeing fireworks when kissing someone — until now.

“Shit, you’re so . . .” His words trailed off as he pulled away, his warm breath patting against your pretty face.

“Satoru,” you mumbled against his lips, “I didn’t know you thought of me this way. I didn’t think that I’d be someone you’d wanna sleep with.”

“Really? Why’s that?” As Gojo spoke, he took off his blindfold, staring at you — then your lips — with those vibrant, ocean-blue eyes of his.

“We’ve barely even hugged,” when you frowned, just a little bit, Gojo wanted to kiss your pouty lips over and over again until his mouth was sore.

God, he wanted you in ways he couldn’t even begin to vocalize.

But he’d certainly try.

“And I thought I was being obvious this entire time,” Gojo paused. “Whenever we would fight together, side by side, do you know how hard it was to concentrate? All I could ever focus on in the middle of battle was trying not to let myself get distracted by you. Hearing you grunt and groan, just watching the way you’d move. I’ve always wanted to take you home with me once the fight ended, toss you on my bed, and find out all the noises you can make; see how loud you can get. I just gotta hear you moan for me, baby. I have to.”

Running his thumb over your soft mouth, he slightly pulled down on your bottom lip, all before he leaned in again, moving his thumb away and replacing it with his lips.

This time, when he kissed you, he didn’t hold back. That sweet tongue of his entered your mouth as if it was on a mission, and he swirled his tongue around yours, enjoying every little surprised noise you made just as much as he enjoyed tasting your delicious mouth. He’d kiss you forever if he could.

A small part of him hoped that the two of you would never get released, and he could spend eternity with his tongue sloppily flicking against yours.

A pair of large hands suddenly gripped your ass. When you gasped, pulling away from Gojo’s lips, he smiled. You were just too cute.

Who knew that the prison realm would actually turn out to be heaven?

“You’re so tense,” Gojo said with a hint of a teasing tone. “Has no one ever touched you like this before?”

“People have — I mean, I’ve done stuff before, it’s just . . .”

When you failed to finish your sentence, Gojo took it upon himself to finish it for you.

“It’s just that no one’s ever made you feel good before,” his sly grin only grew. “Right?”

“I-” you stammered, “that’s none of your business.”

“Lay down.”

“Why?” You asked, your curiosity at its peak.

“I wanna eat you out, sweet girl. Now lay down.” Gojo’s hands moved from your ass to your hips, and he lifted you off of his lap and laid you down next to him.

He then flipped over on top of you, giving you another kiss — a little, quick one — before he started to impatiently unbutton your pants.

“What kinda best friend would I be if I just let you keep living your life without having had a proper orgasm?” He said, shrugging off your bottoms. “Told you not to waste any time with all those shitty guys. You should’ve been with me from the start.”

“Yeah, yeah,” rolling your eyes, you sat up on your elbows, looking down at the sorcerer between your thighs, who slowly pulled down your underwear and held your legs open. “You’re not the first guy who has said a bunch of hot things to me, but then failed to deliver-”

You were interrupted by your own unexpected gasp, as it was elicited from your throat thanks to Gojo’s skillful tongue, which had swiped right across your clit.

He was such a tease; that tongue of his could work wonders. And it did. He flicked at your clit rapidly, and during every quick stroke, his eyes never glanced away from your face.

You started to squirm, but he held onto your thighs, convinced that absolutely nothing in this world could make him want to stop eating your pussy. Not when it tasted so undeniably good.

“Had no idea this pretty pussy was so damn delicious,” he pulled away, mumbling against your wet folds. “Should’ve done this a long time ago, baby.”

When he dived back into your pussy, he licked and sucked, sucked and licked. Good god, you tasted amazing. So, so amazing. He couldn’t help but moan as he made a mess of your pussy; your juices and his spit decorating his face.

“Oh my god, Satoru,” you moaned, “I’m close-”

Once again, your words were cut off by your own uncontrollable moans. That sweet orgasm was brewing right in the pit of your stomach.

You expected him to pull away once you warned him about your approaching orgasm, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed his calloused fingertips into your plush thighs even harder, and he ate your pussy as messily as possible. Licked at it more rapidly. Sucked on your clit more hungrily.

“Cum in my mouth,” he moaned out in between licks. “Don’t hold back; I want it all. Cum in my mouth right now.”

“Gojo!” You called out. Last warning.

Instead of pulling away, he reached forward, grabbing ahold of your soft tits. With his fingers, he flicked at your hard nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

And with that, you arched your back off of the hard ground, moaning his name over and over again like a sinner praying for forgiveness.

Gojo lapped up your juices as if he was dying of thirst. He’ll be damned if he missed even a single drop of it.

“Damn it,” he said as he detached his lips from your swollen clit. “I wanna eat you out over and over again, but I gotta fuck you. I just gotta know what it’s like to be inside of you.”

Gojo sat up on his knees. He unbuttoned his pants. When he pulled them down, along with his boxers, his hard dick flung out.

You couldn’t help but stare at the mesmerizing large dick. The tip of it was red and swollen, precum dripping from his aching hole. Two long, thick veins ran along his member.

“You’re so big,” you stated, darting your eyes between his hard cock and handsome face.

“It’s okay,” Positioning himself in between your legs, he said, “I’ll make it fit, baby.”

When he pressed the tip of his dick against your awaiting hole, it felt like he was stepping through the gates of heaven.

One hand was placed next to your head, holding himself up, while his other hand gripped your hip.

His dick slid inside of your soaking wet pussy as if it belonged there; pieces of a puzzle coming together. The sinful moan that fell from between his lips was beautiful.

He couldn’t help it.

Not when your pussy was so tight, wet, and warm.

“Hmm, hey baby?” Gojo whispered, his warm breath patting against your ear, soft white hair tickling the side of your face. “You called me Gojo instead of Satoru earlier when I was eating your pussy. I want you to moan it again for me, over and over again. Can you do that?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Such a sweet girl,” he gave the shell of your ear a quick little lick. “So, so sweet.”

He didn’t wait too long to start thrusting in and out of you once your pussy had adjusted to his size. He simply couldn’t. Not when you felt so utterly amazing.

With his lips still close to your ear as he fucked you, the chatty man whispered all sorts of dirty things. And it only made you moan even louder.

“I could fuck you just like this forever. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He grunted, slamming himself inside of you at a quicker pace. “Sorry if I’m being too rough. I can’t help it, baby. Your pussy’s driving me crazy, just like I knew it would. I knew my best friend would feel this good. Who else other than me would know what to do with a pussy like this? Hm?”

“Gojo,” you called out, gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Gojo, I can’t- I’m gonna cum again!”

“Already?” He smirked, pulling away from your ear, his face only a few inches away from yours. “Gonna cum all over my dick? Make a mess?”

You didn’t respond — you couldn’t respond — not when he rhythmically fucked you like a doll, the tip of his dick reaching all the right spots inside of you.

“Shit,” Gojo suddenly groaned. “Think I’m gonna cum too, baby. I can’t hold it . . . Can’t fucking hold it much longer. I’m gonna fill you up. Stuff that pretty pussy with my cum. No one else will get to.”

“Please do it,” you stammered out with a whine, struggling to speak from the way your body was being pounded into. “P-Please!”

Suddenly, Gojo felt your pussy tighten around his cock. A wave of pure bliss washed over you, making your toes curl as you moaned his name in broken syllables.

The prettiest tears started to fall from your eyes. Gojo kissed them away.

His own orgasm was approaching quickly, building up in his lower stomach, dick, balls, and even his thighs.

“I’m so close — I’m right there, baby. I’m right there. Shit — I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum right inside of you, baby — there’s so much of it. I’m cumming-”

Feeling your cum coat his cock as your pussy milked him pushed him right over the edge. He moaned so loudly, it would have been entirely unsurprising if someone could have heard it from outside of the box.

He shot ropes upon ropes of warm, thick, pearly cum inside of you. His dick throbbed with every pulse, spilling every last drop of his semen into your stuffed hole.

“Baby,” Gojo whined lowly, attempting to catch his breath. “I didn’t think I’d ever stop cumming. You drive me crazy.”

“Can we go again?” Looking into his eyes with a pleading glance, you said, “I need more, Gojo, make me cum again. Please?”

“Did I just turn my best friend into my little slut?” Smirking, Gojo leaned down, kissing your lips once again. It was his favorite thing to do. “I’ll make you cum as many times as you want, sweetheart. We might be here for a while, so why not?”

Suddenly, Gojo lifted you, switching your positions until you were sitting right on top of him, his dick still inside of you.

“The prison realm doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you grinned.

Gripping your hips, Gojo’s eyes scanned over your beautiful body, admiring the perfect view as you started to ride him.

Perhaps, he would have to thank Kenjaku someday.

🏷: @allofffmypeaches @manjiroswifo @yourusernames @armani78 @darkphoenix3432 @komonika

[jinxvex]

that sevika free use fic literally made me smoke a cigarette on my front porch. i like the idea of being fucked to tears but it’s an even more appealing idea of being so brainless that all u can do is laugh and moan about it. i think sevika would like seeing u that way honestly

this is so hot: "i like the idea of being fucked to tears but it’s an even more appealing idea of being so brainless that all u can do is laugh and moan about it."

i'm SO convinced sevika's favorite way to get you all brainless 'n dumb is bending you over and fucking you rough in doggy… you’d be so obedient for her.

cw: free use, degradation, breeding, roughness, pure filth...

your back is arched, face pressing into the mattress and arms limp beside you. i’ve written this before but it never gets old. it’s just so easy to get your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, eyebrows furrowing with your mouth, and cunt gaping wide open for her.

sevika, of course, is drilling so deep inside you to get you like this, cock pressing painfully yet deliciously against the spongey spot of your cervix—with the disgusting sloshing and skin-slapping noises to prove it. her wide hips are grinding against your ass, fast and rough, but precise and purposeful. she’s fucking you practically to death to get you stupid and pliant. you’re so easy. so easy to pin down, fuck, and breed.

you, of course, are practically brain-dead at how overwhelmingly full your pussy is; we all know her strap is huge. again, it’s purposeful, she loves seeing you so slutty and dumb for her, so willing to take anything she gives you including cruel treatment. the only thing you can do at this moment is moan into the pillows and fuck your ass back on her so her dick can go as far inside you as possible. you’re completely cockdrunk. all you can do is moan and giggle—like you’ve taken some sort of drug.

“mmph!! mm-da- hah!! f-fu-,” you let out a series of incoherent babbles as she continues her assault on your greedy pussy. at this point, your hole has created a nasty white ring around her cock—maybe as a means to thank her for giving you want you so desperately crave. dick. you’re truly just a cock hungry whore, starving for whatever she gives you.

“what? huh?! can’t even fuckin’ talk, can you?” she emphasizes her words by thrusting harder into you, faux balls grazing against your neglected clit. your cunt squelches even louder, doing all the talking for you. she leans back slightly, her newly chopped blunt haircut falling over her eyes. sevika places her large hands (yes she has her mech hand) on each ass cheek and spreads—just to see how good your cunt looks clutching her cock, so desperate to cling on to her. “i’ve got my dick so deep in your slutty little pussy it has you all fucked up, hmm?”

her crude words have you shrinking further into your already brainless state. still, all you can do is giggle. your laughs are mixed with clipped moans because of how harsh her thrusts are, cutting off the sounds escaping your throat before they’re fully formed.

“y-ye- hmfph!! haa- he,” your laughs are comparable to the sounds porn stars make in their movies. loud and full of need—like you’re putting on a show just for her. just to get her feral enough to ruin you.

“shhh, ‘s okay. you don’t have to talk, doll.” she poses faux sympathy for you before gripping your ass to fuck you back on her. “yeah, shut the fuck up. shut it. want you to sit there and take this dick. take it.”

she quickens her pace, slamming into you and removing her hand on your ass to press your back into an even more painful arch. the action causes you to let out a sharp gasp, surprise evident in your voice at her truly animalistic ways. the slick spilling from your pussy squirts out from between your bodies and drenches your inner thighs.

you, laying immobile and motionless on your mattress still speak no identifiable words. your head in sevika-shaped clouds and obsessed with her ruthlessness. sevika could pin you down, grip onto you like she hated your guts, and hurt you immensely, but it'd still be love.

"da- f-fu, s-se, hmm!" you chuckle, smiling lazily into the covers.

she lets out a throaty laugh, "s-shit. you'd just let me do anything to this pretty body, wouldn't you? maybe you'll even let me breed this little pussy... you'd take it, yeah? you'd take my load in this tight little cunt 'n let me put a baby into you? make you a mommy?"

"mhm! puh-please!"

and finally, after forever, you utter an expression that is coherent.

"then cum on this dick. cum on this shit so you're easier to breed."

...

ok! so this was way longer than i intended it to be...

[robo-writing]

How different Logan’s would eat you out <3

X1, X2, and X3

✦A mix between ravenous and romantic. He wants you to know just how much you’re loved, and he expresses that by how long he can eat your pussy without stopping. savoring each and every movement from you, he actually enjoys when you lose control and tighten your legs around his head, moaning something along the lines of you’ll be the death of me as he laps at your cunt.

Your thighs quake around his head, hands in his hair as you look down at him. He’s having the time of his life, licking at your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll do in this life, pulling you down and forcing you to sit right on his face.

“Don’t need air, stay,” he mumbles, eyes looking up at you. “Just stay here for me sweetheart.”

You want to protest but goddamn does he make it hard for you, especially when his hands grip the fat of your ass and grind you onto his lips. Higher and higher, you feel your orgasm taking hold with each movement.

“Logan, gonna come,” you whine, and he pushes you as far down as you can go.

“Come on my face doll,” he groans, tonguing at your shaking entrance. “Get my face nice and wet, yeah?”

Origins Wolverine

✦Lovey dovey sickeningly sweet romantic sex; down for anything as long as you’re involved. Sit on his face? Gladly. Pull your legs over his shoulders? Just say when. The kind of lover whose heart skips a beat every time he sees you naked like it's the first time, despite the fact that you're married with a house. Speaks to your pussy as if it’s separate from you.

“How’s my girl doing? Doing alright?”

Your answer is a moan, your pussy clenching around nothing. Logan smiles at your response, thumb stroking up to press against your sensitive clit.

“Yeah, doing just fine ain’t you?” He breathes, kissing the hardened nub before returning to suck on it, your legs shaking in response. “And my other girl’s nice and ready ain’t she?”

“Baby,” you whine, desperate to cum. He’s edged you for as long as possible and you’re almost certain if you wait any longer you’ll actually die. Thankfully Logan grants you mercy, tightening his hold on your thighs as he focuses all his effort into making your pussy leak on his face.

“Come for me sweetheart,” he groans, and you do. Fingers digging into the sheets, you feel your orgasm take hold as Logan wrings every ounce of pleasure he can, kissing at your thighs when your overstimulated pussy can’t take any more.

You barely catch your breath before he speaks to your cunt, admiring how your come trails down your thighs.

“There she is,” he chuckles, index finger slowly collecting the remains of your juices, admiring how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. “Nice and satisfied, ain’t she?”

DOFP Logan

✦Second biggest munch. Running from danger constantly doesn’t make a lot of time for sex so whenever he finds the rare opportunity to do so best believe he’s jumping at it. Likes to joke that he’s started to go grey because he can’t fuck you as often as he likes. Truly eats you out like he needs your pussy more than he needs air.

“Need to be quiet baby,” he growls, pinning your thrashing hips against the wall. “You’re going to get us caught.”

It’s one of the rare days when you’ve found a safe house, even rarer that it’s just you and Logan alone for once. One look at his face and you already knew what was running through that adamantium skull of his, dragging you away to the nearest closet where you’ve been for god knows how long—the concept of time always seems to leave you wherever Logan’s talented mouth is involved.

You’re biting at your hand to muffle your moans but it’s still not enough, free hand tangled in his graying strands as an anchor. You can see his eyes roll back at the feeling, sloppily kissing up your pussy.

“God I wanna hear you,” he moans. “I’d give anything to fuckin’ hear you baby, but you’ve gotta behave for me. Don’t want anyone else seein’ this.”

The scene is something straight out of a porno—your legs hooked over his shoulders as he eats your cunt feverishly, the filthy sounds he makes with each movement, your hips desperately chasing his mouth—you wish this could never end.

70s Logan

✦By far the most selfish, he eats you out for his pleasure alone. He doesn’t give a damn if you’re crawling away, he will pull you back and lock his lips around your clit until you’re damn near thrashing in his arms, grinding against the mattress because that's just how hard he is. He won’t apologize for making you pass out, nor will he stay the night, but if he likes you enough you might find a card on your nightstand with his number hastily scribbled onto it.

When you decided to bring tall, dark, and grumpy home you didn’t expect it to end with tears running down your face, practically begging for a reprieve that won’t come. His hands lock together, forcing you still as he eats you out, not giving a damn about how pathetic you sound.

“Quit fuckin’ squirming,” he grunts, nosing at your pussy. “Lemme enjoy this.”

The man is talented, that’s a fact. Knows just how to push your buttons in all the right ways, but the problem is that he’s pushed your buttons nearly three times already and you’re almost certain his beard is going to give you the worst rash you’ve ever had.

But damn it if he isn’t responsible for some of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

“Logan, fuck—lemme take a break,” you’re begging at this point, slapping at his shoulders when he doesn’t let up. Your breath catches in your chest when he smacks your thigh roughly in response, smiling against your pussy when he feels you clench in response.

“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourself,” he mocks, showing just how true his words ring when his fingers rub circles against your clit.

You swear you can feel any coherent thoughts leak out of your ears, focused solely on coming. It’s embarrassing how well he plays your body like a fine tuned instrument, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you’re squirting a mess onto your mattress.

“There we go, ain’t that a sight?” He laughs, pulling you closer towards his face. “Now, be a good little slut and behave while I enjoy my meal, okay?”

Old Man Logan

✦#1 munch and it’s not even close. When his job leaves him tired and his body is sore he finds comfort between your legs, it’s the only time he can turn his brain off and drown himself in you. He’s so fucking starved that he’ll genuinely get lost in his own headspace and ignore your thrashing and whining just to wring another orgasm from your tired body. Kisses your labia and mutters how she's such a pretty pussy as you're trying to catch your breath.

Logan didn't even bother to shed his clothes, making a beeline directly to you the moment he stepped inside your shared home. Dirt still settled on his skin, his head nestled into the crook of your neck as your bodies sway within the closed off kitchen. "Missed me, huh?" you ask, his sigh answer plenty. "Always miss you princess," he whispers, pulling you closer. He lifts you up with warning, sitting you down on the countertop, kneeling between your dangling legs. His beard tickles your bare skin, pulling you close enough to place a kiss onto your pussy, right over the fabric of your panties. "Fuck," you sigh. "You really missed me." His smile is infectious, nuzzling against your fabric-covered core. He kisses you through it for a while before peeling off the moistened garment, thumbs reaching to stroke your pussy. The sight makes your skin hot, hands tangled in his hair. "Been waiting all fuckin' day for this," he moans, spreading you apart and indulging in your juices. "Can tell you were waiting for me too." You feel your body melt with every touch, Logan's hands an anchor as he makes out with your heat, nose bumping against your clit with each movement.

Worst Logan

✦Still trying to wrap his head around you wanting to be with him, but goddamn if he isn’t grateful. Reverent, like a sinner at an alter. Your word is law, likes it when you pull him by the hair and show him where you need it, loves it when you tell him how good he’s doing, presses himself further into your pussy when you’re ready to come. It's all about you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You lovingly stroke his hair, back arching when he kisses your clit oh so gently.

“Lemme take a look at you,” you ask, and the sight of him is enough to make you come.

Face red, blushing so hard it reaches his chest, eyes so glazed over with lust his pupils leave nothing but small rings of green in his eyes. You cradle his face and the weight of his head falls into them immediately, chasing your touch.

“Gonna make me feel good, aren’t you?” You ask, and he nods his head, kissing your palm.

“Lemme taste you baby,” he whispers. “Swear to god I’ll make you feel good.”

“Never doubted you for a second Logan,” you whisper back, tugging his head back to your soaked cunt. He breathes in your scent, fucking groans at the sight of your pussy before he descends on it, noisily showing you just how much he meant his words.

“Fuckin’ delicious baby, so fuckin’ wet,” he moans. “Can’t get enough of you.”

He only gets louder when you pull him forward by the hair, rough hands leaving a mark where his fingers grip your skin.

[gtgbabie0]

synopsis: {you get into a mini fight with Shauna and Natalie has to take of the damage}

I’m procrastinating hard rn. my thirteen drafts are killing me so have this, she’s such a cutie patootie <3

Shauna just keeps pushing and pushing and fucking pushing— a snide comment here, an ‘accidental’ shove there an insult thrown at you for no apparent reason. It was pissing you off and no matter how many times you try to be the bigger person, to walk away and busy yourself with your chores or just simply ignore her— she still found a way to get under your skin.

There really was only so much you could take.

It didn’t help that she constantly looked like she was seconds away from going on a murderous rampage, you being at the very top of that list, brows knitted and lips curled— paired with that fake smile she flashes or the sarcasm that drowns her every word that tested your patience, not to mention the heat— the sun's rays becoming hotter and hotter each day, the air drier and thicker with an ever-increasing tension. You truly were hanging on by a thread.

“Just stay away from her today, please.” Natalie had whispered to you this morning, just as the first peaks of sunlight hit the horizon— her fingers working through your hair to put it up and out of your eyes, pressing soft kisses to your sleepy face.

Of course you tried— really you did. The last thing you wanted was to trouble your girlfriend further; she already had enough to deal with it. Yet here you were, daring to step closer to Shauna, mustering up the gentlest, friendliest tone so you could ask her for help even if it nearly damn kills you to do so.

Despite your best efforts, you're shot down by her narrowed eyes. “Can’t you do anything for yourself?” She sneers, teeth bared, and itching for a fight. “Or are you just gonna be Natalie’s lap dog for the rest of your life?”

Shauna doesn’t stop and wait for your response, instead, she pushes past you— shoulder slamming into your own with all that high school soccer force, and well you snap, shoving her back with a scoff and it felt good. Awfully good. The way she spins around to face you, the shock on her face, the flicker of anger in her eyes. You shoot back a murmured— “Bitch” beneath your breath loud enough for her to hear, feeling far too cocky.

Short-lived. Because her elbow is flying into your face, the bone hitting your nose making your eyes go all teary— a burning sensation tingling through your skull. Everything else is a blur of adrenaline as you surge into her like you’re suddenly an MMA fighter, smack bang in the middle of camp.

“Hey— hey, what the fuck?!” Natalie breaks through the small crowd of girls, fingers curling into the collar of your shirt to yank you back whilst Tai pushes Shauna away— everyone’s voices blending together in one big, dull jargon of complaints.

Natalie’s hands are rough against your hot cheeks as she tips your head backwards to take a look at your nose— red, thick blood trickling down past your lips and over your chin, smudged across your jaw. “What happened?” She demands, turning to catch Shauna’s glare.

“You need to get your fucking dog a leash.” There's a mean scowl over her face and an even meaner bite to her tone, rolling her brown eyes as Natalie continues to fuss over you before storming into her teepee— Melissa at her heels.

“Err— everyone just go back to what you were doing.” Natalie huffs awkwardly before turning back to you— face pinching into a frown as she practically drags you back to her own teepee.

“Nat—”

“Don’t. Not right now.”

It’s a losing fight so you shut your mouth, giving her time to cool down, head still tipped back as blood continues to thickly trickle from your nose— some of which has now dried uncomfortably against your skin which she gently begins to wipe away with a wet rag, bowl of water beside her. The silence is nearly deafening, occasionally broken up by your pathetic attempt to sniffle and water sloshing around in the blow.

Your eyes dare to flicker up to meet her own, dark, frustrated slits, full lips curled downwards. A frown that made you practically twitch with nerves, you let out a heavy sigh from your lips— your nose completely clogged up.

The air between you both is cut, sharply by her sudden words— “What did I tell you?” she was pissed if it wasn’t painstakingly obvious before.

The whole “she started it!” argument is trapped behind your clenched teeth because you know for a fact it’ll only serve to dig yourself a deeper hole— even if you were completely right, you’d have to bite your pride on this one so you settle for a meek— “Sorry, but she was pissing me off.” your sheepish smile softens her hard gaze, ever weak to that pretty face of yours.

“You’re such a dumbass.” Despite her words, her tone is a lot gentler, which makes you visibly relax, shoulders dropping.

You fail to bite back a smirk. “Hey, you chose this. Says more about you I think.”

She rolls her eyes, nudging her knuckles against your jaw gently to correct your posture as she continues to clean your blood up— “Yeah, that I apparently have horrible taste in women.”

“Dick.” You give her a nasally chuckle, eyes following hers as she gently presses a clean piece of fabric under your nose, the blood thankfully slowing down— a soft grin breaks out across her lips at the way you lean into her touch. “Is it broken?”

“No, but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch for the next few days.” She sighs, letting her thumb brush along your warm cheek as she adds— “And you’re gonna have a killer headache.” That was given, considering the fact it feels like someone has just stuffed cotton into your brain.

The words in the back of your throat melt away as she brushes a kiss to the bridge of your nose— sore and aching— her hands holding your face and it’s enough to make your frustrations melt completely, smiling to yourself. Natalie truly could never stay mad at you, even if you could be the biggest idiot known to mankind at times.

“I can’t lose you out here.” The vulnerability in her voice hits you hard, making your stomach churn— hands resting over the curve of her waist as she presses her forehead to yours. “Not after everything.”

The weight of her words linger, rattling around in your mind and a tiny part of you felt oddly warmed by them— she really did love you. “I’m hard to get rid of,” you reply and it would be a tease if it weren’t for the way your voice quivers. “I’ll be careful, no more fist fights.”

You seal the promise with a kiss to her lips and it seems to be enough for now, the coppery taste of blood making her pull back as your nose begins to bleed once more— “C’mere, you mess.” She smirks, voice a little rough, cleaning you back up again in between tender kisses.

[hazelfoureyes]

HAZELLLL OH BOY DO I HAVE A GOOD IDEAAAA

OKOK so what if doe! Reader is with vox and readers in heat right right????

But vox can't help reader break it (he's been trying for hours)

So he has to call alastor to help you since he's the only deer vox knows of

Oh my goddd

Hohoho good night awquar 💖

Cucking Vox

「warnings/promises: Vox x Female doe reader, Alastor x female doe reader, smut, Cucking the TV man, knotting, heat, pussy flooded, Alastor says “good girl”, hell is heaven now, you’re engaged but meh, drones were not made for this, Breeding???, humilation of the flat headed prince, Vox loves you, but your pussy love Alastor」

Minors I stg! DNI!

It had been all morning. He didn’t mind the stamina required, but his love was still suffering. Nothing was satiating your needs, even when he went out of his way to transform his typically human male prick into something more akin to the wider based cock you needed …. It was still not enough.

As you laid supine and open, the artificial knot full and stuck in you, the whines didn’t stop. It didn’t have the heat your cunt knew a proper mate would have. His load was too small, your womb quivering in need with every pathetic release he buried in you. A real knot would pulse with the heart rate of the buck claiming you. 

“Nothing?” Vox’s voice was high and worried. 

“I mean… it’s something.” Grumbled into a pillow. You ground against him but it was useless to calm your burning walls. Ever hour that passed without being properly fucked became torturous. 

“What does it feel like? Not getting, ya know,” suddenly he felt shy, voicing the thing he was lacking, “knotted.”

You considered sparing him the truth but your animal brain said it before your human one could stop it, “It hurts. It feels like my pussy is on fire. Do you know how sometimes the roof of your mouth itches and you can’t scratch it? That. For fucking hours.”

Seeing you in pain hurt him, deeper than he could handle. How could he have so much money and power and feel so worthless for you now?

Did he truly have no resources? No recourse? No remedy? 

As he watched your large doe ears press back into your skull, the solution came to him.

“One minute babe, you just…” Vox halted as you rolled on your side, fingers coming to your center to have some friction, “Keep doing that…”

· · ─────── ·📺📻· ─────── · ·

When the drone approached his patio table,  he didn’t look up. 

When Vox’s voice crackled through the small speaker, he didn’t look up.

When the question, “How much for you to fuck my fiancée?” was shouted at him, he admittedly choked a little on his coffee and finally acknowledged the device.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Alastor set the mug down to keep from breaking it in his hand.

“To humiliate me.”

A beat.

A hum.

A twirl of his staff.

“Well in that case, for free!”

Vox blinked twice as he stared at the monitor, “Wait, really?”

Alastor mulled it over seriously now. Did he want to have sex right now? No, not really. Did the idea of making Vox’s future wife scream his name sound hilarious? Yes absolutely. 

He shrugged, getting up from his chair as the drone spun around him, “Shit, I didn’t expect you to agree.”

“So you don’t want me to bed your gal?” Alastor smiled, “Then I’m definitely in.”

Vox chewed on a claw, “Fuck! Fine just get down here. And I don’t owe you any favors for this, so don’t even fucking ask.”

“Oh Vox, favors? You’re hardly the one I’d go to when in need. You’re not even the first Vee I’d approach! Ha!”

Before he could crash the drone directly into that smug face, he heard your whimpers from the bedroom down the hall and paused. 

“Just”, Vox cradled his screen in his hands, “hurry up.”

It became immediately clear why his former partner had called him of all people when Alastor exited the elevator into Vox’s personal floor.

The living quarters were swimming in the heady scent of arousal. Specifically, a doe. 

Alastor rolled his eyes, of course Vox found one of the few other deer demons in the pride ring to marry.

“Ooh, you are in a pickle, huh?” He leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of the overlord rubbing your back as you groaned. His eyes fell immediately to the downturned tail above your bare cheeks. “Poor thing.” He cooed.

You couldn’t find the will to turn your head to look. A growled, “Voxy?”

“He’s here to help, babe.” His hands sped up their massaging swirls.

“Who, exactly?”

“Alastor! The radio demon. A plea-,” He began but couldn’t finish. 

Vox laughed nervously, “He’s a deer demon! Like you!” 

“You grabbed a random deer demon off the street to-,”

“No! Not at all! Though, admittedly, the only other deer demon I know.” As you made a noise of disapproval, he added, “He’s an overlord! An old pal, even.”

You heard the strange man guffaw. Finally, you rolled over to lay eyes on the supposed cavalry your beau had summoned.

Oh. 

“Hmm.” Something in you unspoken yet still demanding made you roll into your back and drop your knees open. 

He hadn’t anticipated a fellow deer in heat. Vox had offered him more than just fucking his girl, it turned out. Alastor had come mostly expecting to laugh in Vox’s face as a second best humiliation and head to cannibal town, but seeing how Vox was so desperately in love, well, how could he say no? What more delicious of a meal could exist than splitting open Vox’s ego while splitting open his doe with the same effort.

Still on the bed, Vox felt the air shift as he stood between Alastor and you. 

“Well, I uh, guess I’ll leave you two to it.” His screen flashed a pink haze of embarrassment.

“Oh? Abandoning her already?” With a snap and a flourish of his fingers, a plush reading chair materialized on the opposite side of the bed. “Take a seat, old chum.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

Alastor loosened his bowtie, “You’d really leave your vulnerable and needy betrothed all alone with a man? Tsk tsk.”

Vox laughed, “You’re not a man.”

“Ooh, correct.” Alastor reached the bed, undoing his belt, “I’m a buck, right little one?” When his hand reached out and slid down your calf you trembled. Even his skin on yours felt different than Vox’s. “Now take a seat.”

His flat face turned to you, who could only nod as a long claw dragged down your shin.

Vox settled into his chair and crossed his arms. He wanted to say something snotty about how he would make more money on his cell during the little romp than Alastor could dream of, but the sound of Alastor’s zipper made his throat close.

“I’ll need a little assistance to catch up to you, sweetheart. Mind lending me a hand?” Alastor rested his knees on either side of your thighs,  body hovering over you as he knelt.

You briefly considered arguing, but as his other hand pulled his still soft cock from his pants and the scent of him hit your heightened senses, you found your body sitting up. Your hand went into his as he placed it around himself. His fist around yours as he showed you how to stroke him.

“Is that really necessary?” Vox’s voice seemed to glitch.

“Of course! I’m only capable of knotting when in rut. And a rut can only be triggered by a doe in heat. I’ll need her touch and scent to … get the show started, so to speak.” Alastor’s hand left yours, index finger coming to lift your chin. The first eye contact of the evening, funnily enough coming after skin met skin. 

Deep red eyes shone down on you behind a widening smile, “Good girl. I’ll take care of you.”

“You’re obnoxious.” You slurred, a second wave of his uniquely virile musk rolling off his heated crotch. “Good girl? You just met me you….Old timey…”, the lights in your brain shut off, “fuck. Fuck.” Your mind was a blank piece of paper, the word ‘breed’ scrawled haphazardly as your hand felt the weight of his erection. 

Vox had never seen you make that face, nor your eyes lose focus and dilate quite like that either. He couldn’t help but glance at the thick appendage in your fist.

A look shot to his own lap, he hadn’t considered girth into the equation… 

Your mouth opened, saliva pooling in your cheeks as you brought him to your lips. Alastor’s hand snaked back to grab you by the hair and gently keep you off of him, not needing someone’s spit slathered on his skin. 

“Okay now-“ As Vox interjected Alastor’s hand sat still on your head.

“I’ll allow it.” The radio demon had a change of heart at the upset tone of his former friend.

Your tongue blanketed your bottom lip to welcome Alastor in, cheeks hollowing from the size of him alone. Why did he taste like that? Like someone you should only view from your knees? A power to his sweat that made your pussy clench. 

Just a few bobs of your head and he was pulling you off, the job done when Vox seemed to slouch back into the chair in resignation. Large and warm hands guided you onto your back and then onto your right side. Your line of sight was your husband-to-be, claws digging into the fabric of his summoned chair.

It was nice to be handled in your heat. To have strong hands move you around your bed as they wanted you, that alone nearly distracted you from the throbbing of your pussy now showing behind your thighs. Alastor lifted your left leg and used it to pull you to him, a wanton whimper from you when he lined up.

His chuckle was more than annoying, but you were in no position to argue. The sound of impatient tapping momentarily took your focus away; Vox’s foot hitting the tile floor. Your eyes followed up his body to meet his stare just in time for you to let out a loud, shakey gasp. Another came before you could catch your breath, the stretch burning as Alastor pressed in.

He began small incessant thrusts, your slick lubricating his intrusion with each withdrawal.

Vox watched entranced as your body seemed to melt into the bed with every snap of the deer man’s hips. You had spent the morning tense and sweating, so to see you so lax and comfortable was momentarily reassuring. But as your head lolled back with Alastor bottoming out, a flame of jealousy began to roar in sincerity. 

“Fuck,” you tried to keep the commentary down to spare your love, but you could feel your walls spreading around Alastor in a way you’d been praying for since you woke up aroused and pained. When he was fully sheathed you had to grip your pillow to keep from rolling onto your back and spreading yourself wider for him. The baser part of your brain urging you to give yourself over to the more-than-suitable mate. 

“You sweet doe, you’re burning up inside. And so swollen. Feeling better?” Alastor said it with such a clear voice you wondered how he was unaffected by your twitching pussy. 

With a nod you buried your face into the pillow clenched in your fists. His thrusts slowed. “Yes,” you ground out. The rhythm picked up again.

“Better than Vox could manage?” He side eyed Vox.

Your left foot came up and pushed at his chin, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Hmm, afraid I can’t do both,” Alastor pulled out entirely, lower head rubbing side to side as he spread his own precum along your folds. 

Closing your eyes to not see Vox, you mumbled, “Yes.” He wrapped his arms around your left leg for leverage and thrust back into you with a single push. With a shift of his hips his cock hit against your g-spot with every entry. Your breaths quickly devolved into raspy gasps.

You felt a rush of slick as your body responded to the stimulation. The sound of Alastor’s cock sliding in and out of your arousal reached Vox despite being a ways away from the bed. The previous flame in his chest began to lower. Watching your body rock along with the obscene sounds of you being fucked was having an unexpected effect on him. With a gulp he let his hand rest on his lap, a gentle pressure as he palmed his growing erection.

The deep reach of the radio demon’s cock churning up your insides was felt by you and seen by Vox.

“You’re doing so well, dear. Look how wet you’ve gotten.” One hand came down to run past your clit, “I promise to have you dripping.” He turned his head fully to Vox now, “That’s why I’m here, after all. To breed you.” Vox opened his mouth to shout when Alastor rolled you onto your back. The curve of his dick resumed hitting your inner spot, wide cock dragging against every inch of your walls. A pleasured cry, your pillow lost. Bringing your legs up and out you let instincts take over.

The yell died in Vox’s throat. His hand shifted to rubbing his cock through his pants. “Are you done yet?” He saw the swelling bulge at the base of Alastor’s own cock.

You didn’t hear the question, only processing sticky flesh slapping together and your own loud moans.

“My knot needs to be bigger. I want to make sure I plug her up well.” Alastor knew he could finish now but he just needed a few more moments of fucking with the overlord. His eyes came to watch himself disappear into your seemingly too small hole, “Is that what you want? To be stuffed with my knot?” 

You vaguely registered his gaze had moved from where you two connected up to your face. A hand coming to tug at your tail and grip it from the base tore an answer from you, “Please. Please, Please.”

“Do you remember my name in that brain fog?” He took both ankles now and pushed your legs as wide open as they’d reach.

Vox could see the shine on Alastor’s growing knot as he seemed to push more and more in with each thrust. His palm felt the slight damp of his precum soaking through his pants.

He had a name? Right. Yes he had a name. You dug through the mess of your thoughts, an empty room of smoke and sensations, and found it. “Alastor. Alastor please!” Vox had entirely disappeared, it was just the thick cocked buck pounding into you in your bed now. 

“Aww, that’s a good doe. And are you ready for my knot?” Your legs struggled in his grip as you attempted to thrust back onto him to take all he had for you. He hummed, hips slowly as he fought back the pending release, “But you’re still so tight… did Vox even try to fuck you?” 

Vox cried out a small, “Oh, come on. Jackass.” It didn’t stop his hand though. He couldn’t argue Alastor was thicker than he was, even his knot seemed unfairly large.

“Fuck you,” you managed, stomach muscles tightening and drawing your body toward him as the pleasure ratcheted up by leaps and bounds. 

Alastor pulled out entirely again, releasing your legs. The whimper you let out momentarily softened Vox’s cock. “I’m sorrrrry,” you pouted, “Come baaaack.” You thought you would cry, as soon as he was out of your cunt the painful throb was creeping back in. You needed his skin on yours. His body in yours. 

You were rolled onto your stomach, his hands wrapping around to pick you up by the hips. On all fours, he sunk back in. “Shh,” big palms stroke down your back, “don’t forget to breath, sweetheart.” Your body was meant to take a knot during heat and you knew you were capable of taking it, but a small panic made you crawl up the bed as the large, throbbing bulb threatened to tear the delicate skin of your opening. Those same powerful hands you praised before now dug fingers into your hips and held you still. Bruises he hoped Vox would have to see for days. 

A small sob as he mercifully forced the rest of himself in with one harsh thrust, his crotch finally coming into contact with your ass. Again, without thinking, you pulled away and saw stars. It took just a second though for your brain to flood your body with the feel good chemicals it had been withholding all day. The pulsing knot vibrating against your puffy g-spit, wide cock head just barely breaching your cervix and flooding your womb and walls with thick cum; it was everything you needed. Your vision went white as your orgasm made your thighs give out, body going limp entirely.

Vox knew very well what it meant as your entire body trembled, hips stuck against Alastor as the rest of you went boneless.

Alastor took a deep breath. It was oddly refreshing, a form of stress relief he hadn’t considered before. Long claws made barely there lines up and down your thighs.

Pressing his chest into your back, he carefully grabbed your body and rolled you onto your side again to face Vox, him still behind you.

Vox stood up, saw the tenting of his pants and sat back down, throwing one left over the other, “Well! That’s finally done with. You can get the fuck out as soon as your freak penis goes back to normal.”

Alastor laughed, your mind entirely having checked out in your blissful state. Your stupid and content smile spread wide as his body shook slightly behind you. He propped himself up on his elbow to look at Vox.

“You went through all the trouble of finding one of the few other deer demons in hell to replace me, yet didn’t bother to learn about her biology.” His grin morphed into a smirk so wide his black gums were showing, “Heats last several days, Voxy.”

༻Masterlist༺

Added July 15th Luci x GN!Angel reader - Yes (Continuation of Lucifer x GN!AngelReader (fic based on Griftwood by ghost))

Added July 14th A Very Hazbin Happy Birthday imagine (Alastor, Luci, Angel, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Vox, Valentino)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies ,

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @whateverlololo

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

, @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain ,

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby ,

@dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 ,

@star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

,

[sugarfairyteez]

This or That?: BJ or HJ?

Pairing: Ateez x Reader

Warning: Involves mature content containing vulgar activities and language. Minors do NOT interact.

Includes:

Blow Job and Hand Job + Pet Names

Disclaimer: These are my opinions/imagination used here. Do not bash or advise me how it should’ve been wrote according to your standard. Respect my opinions and creations how they are written.

————————————————————————

HongJoong:

Blow Job

• He can never resist when you’re using your pretty mouth to pleasure him

• Intently watches

•Hypnotized by how his cock slides past your lips— it drives him absolutely insane

• Resists buckling his hips up in your mouth too much

• Praises in the softest tone ever— Dirty talks in the deepest, raspiest tone

• Growls when he close to releasing

• “Promise you’ll swallow it all for me doll?”

Seonghwa:

Hand Job

• Ravishes the feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock— it’s irresistible

• Sometimes will rut his hips in a way that makes his face scrunch in pleasure

• Loves it when you go at a steadier pace— he saviors every moment

• Will wrap his larger hand around yours to help guide you if you’re feeling lost

• Praises the living life out of you

• Goes absolutely ballistic watching his cum ooze over your hand

• “ Your hand looks so pretty glistening with my cum sweet angel~”

Yunho:

Hand Job (Preferably)

• Not too picky yet cannot resist the view of your tiny hand working on his huge girth

• Loses his composure every time you swipe your thumb over his fat leaking tip

• A sucker when you use both hands

• Mentions how tiny your hands looks wrapped around his cock

• Wouldn’t mind if you incorporated a little mouth action

• Compliments + Dirty Talk

• “Your hands look tiny wrapped around my cock Princess…How adorable~”

Yeosang:

Hand Job

• Flat out loves it when you give him a hand job

• Becomes easily flustered watching you take him with your hands

• Not too shy to dirty talk— hence, it makes you become the flustered one

• Soft curses with his deep voice

• Will rut his hips in your hands because he likes “fucking your hands”

• Whines slightly when he’s about to release

• “You love it when I move my cock in your hands, don’t you?”

San:

Blow Job

• Intense Blow Jobs for Choi San

• Intently watches you swallow his cock— he’s so engraved, he barely blinks

• Mutters swear words along with your name

• His composure will leave his body the moment he feels himself slipping down your throat

• Praises in one breath— Degrades in the next

• He will fuck your mouth in a slowed fashion to watch every inch of him slip in and out

• “Swallowing me whole like the good slut you are, aren’t you kitten?”

Mingi:

Blow Job + Hand Job

• Song Mingi simply cannot resist the combo

• Sanity leaves the moment your mouth joins to accompanied your hands (vice versa)

• Goes wild when he hears you moan around him— the vibrations make his head spin

• Will dirty talk your ears off

• The deepest sigh will come from him when he’s about to release

• Gives clear instructions on where he wants his cum to be

• “Gonna cum in your pretty little mouth this time. Understand?”

Wooyoung:

Hand Job (Plus Slight Blow Job)

• Similar to Yunho, he does not mind either one— yet, your hand jobs are truly special

• Giving his cock an occasional slight squeeze will make him growl

• Occasionally glance at you to capture your eyes focused on pleasuring his cock— adorable

• Will tell you to pick up the pace if that’s what he wants from you

• Throws his head back and rolls his eyes when he’s about to release

• Very bold to tell you if he wants you to finish him in your mouth

• “Need your mouth doll face. Wanna cum in it”

Jongho:

Blow Job or Hand Job

• Doesn’t have a picky bone in his body— he’ll take what you give him

• Intensely watches everything you’re doing

• Hand Jobs + occasional licks on his sensitive tip makes his eyes roll in the back of his skull

• Refrains not to wedge his dick down your throat every single time you decide to use your mouth

• Allows you to take control despite how shy you can be sometimes

• His voice gets softer when he’s about to cum

• “Just like this baby. That’s going to make me cum very soon~”

————————————————————————

[jazzyoranges]

Recognizeable

Wednesday Addams x fem!shapeshifter!reader

Summary: based on this ask!

Words: 1.4k

A/n: this kinda doesn’t have a plot 😭 whoopsies

Warnings: blood, wounds, i swear it’s not angsty R just takes a small tumble lol

“Did it hurt?”

“What, when I fell from heaven?” You crack a smile at your very hilarious joke, but Wednesday does her version of a huff and an eye-roll

“Apologies, I should have elaborated better.” You wince a little in pain as Wednesday disinfects the open wound on your knee and the smaller cuts around your body

The Addams girl was taking Thing and her pet bird, aka you, for a walk outside Nevermore in the forest that surrounded the academy as she watched you loop around in circles. She’d assume you were training for some competition if she didn’t know your personality enough, but Wednesday ultimately came to the conclusion you just had the bird equivalent of zoomies

You squawked at other birds as you passed them by in their trees, and Wednesday made a mental note to ask you if you could actually talk and understand them. Her hypothesis was that you couldn’t and you were just making animal noises for your own amusement

Either her hypothesis was true and you had no idea what you said, or you knowingly called a bird a slur. The previous was probably true due to the horrified expression on your face as a murder of crows you were “talking” to started chasing you down. You must’ve squawked something real bad for all of them to come after you.

You miss the smirk Wednesday has on her face.

The crows must’ve overwhelmed you pretty bad, because next thing she knew you were hitting every single branch of a tree in human form. Was that intentional? She’d have to ask you about it later. After she made sure you weren’t dead, of course

Wednesday arrived just in time for you to almost slam straight into her head, but a simple side step caused you to eat shit instead. There was a very noticeable and loud thump when your head hit a tree root. Wednesday would’ve been more concerned if you didn’t immediately curl into the fetal position, mumbling about how you’d take a nap right then and there

Either shapeshifters were gods, or you just had a really fucking thick skull. Wednesday internally smiled at the thought.

The Addams girl was well aware of the smelling salts in her backpack for times like these, but she looked at Thing for what he wanted to do to get you up. You could wait… probably.

After some inspection, Thing decided it was best to call Enid to carry you back to their dorm. The wound on your knee would only make you limp and cause more pain.

Wednesday made sure to keep you alive, though. She poked you with a stick here and there and gave you reassurance, which she saw you smile at.

You were prone to accidents. Both of the Addams knew you were fine. Truly, it was just another Tuesday. Wake up, go to class, take girlfriend and Thing on a walk, you break a bone, it was all a part of the schedule

It wasn’t even a shapeshifter thing either, you just refused to die. Which the Addams was ultimately grateful for, but your ability to visit death like a close friend had Wednesday just a little jealous

A groan of pain from the back of your throat brings the shorter girl back to the present

“Why did you turn human in the middle of the sky?”

“Whenever I shift I have to really concentrate on it the entire time, so I guess those crows just really fucked me up and messed with my focus” You sigh

“Is it hard? To keep concentration, I mean.” Wednesday starts to wrap the bigger wound on your knee with a bandage wrap

“I’ve been doing it forever, so it’s kinda easy. Not when you’re getting jumped by crows, though…”

“Could you not just shift a pair of wings for yourself?”

“I was already focusing on having the thick skull of a ram.” You knock on your head for effect. “How do you think I haven’t died yet?”

Oh so it was a shapeshifter thing. She was right about your thick skull, though

“Perhaps you should tell Enid that,” Wednesday gets up from her kneeling position in front of you. “She almost fainted carrying you on the way here and I have reason to believe it isn’t because you’re heavy.”

“Maybe I should get her something as compensation…” You mumble to yourself as Wednesday helps you out of the bathroom, using her as a crutch so you can flop onto her bed

The Addams girl sits beside you, your face buried in her sheets. Both of you fall into a comfortable silence as Wednesday continues to stare at you, her mind coming up with endless questions about your abilities.

If concentration was a constant concern, was Wednesday not giving you not enough credit? To focus on multiple tasks at once, surely it was hard for someone as air-headed as you. But then again, you have been doing this for your entire life. Did your concentration come as easy as breathing? Was it so natural you barely noticed it?

And surely the process hurt, right? Your molecules were repositioning themselves to fit the look of an entirely different being. What was there a difference between you and Weems?

What were your limitations? Wednesday would like to test them. Maybe if she’d ask kindly enough you’d-

“Ask your questions, Wens” You mumble into her soft bedsheets, your voice snapping Wednesday out of her thoughts

“Pardon?”

“We’re girlfriends. You can read my mind as much as I can read yours”

“And your logical explanation for that, is..?”

“Girlfriend magic.” You hold up your hands while shaking them, and Wednesday immediately recognizes the jazz hands you had quite an addiction to

“Another day, it’s best you rest.”

This makes you turn your head to look at Wednesday, a smile threatening to take over your face

“I don’t understand why people don’t believe me when I say you’re the romantic one” You gush

“Unless you want me to bombard you with questions until morning rises, I’d suggest you stay quiet.”

“Yes ma’am” You pull down Wednesday on her bed, shoving your face into the shorter girls collar.

From that day forward Wednesday asks you one question a day about your abilities, and you make sure to answer them as best as you can. It was something Wednesday appreciated about you.

Answers would span from 15 minutes to almost 2 hours long. There were some days you had to pull out the whiteboard that was collecting dust in the bee shed, writing and drawing out key information

At first it was casual, it really was. But a month later it was almost like class with how the Addams had a book and a half filled with information about you. A class Wednesday could actually get behind.

She’s learned every shapeshifter is different. Some turn into people, some turn into animals, and others can turn into both. So the book and a half was really just information about you, which Wednesday wasn’t exactly opposed to

Meditation seemed to be a pretty big thing to you. Whenever Wednesday was writing, you’d be meditating. At first the Addams questioned if you were compatible being in a room with her loud typewriter, but you insisted the noise was necessary for you to tune out

Another thing Wednesday learned is that you couldn’t exceed four limbs. Which, you made sure to voice your opinion on. The dreams of being a four-legged and two-winged western dragon was impossible, so unfortunately you’d have to make your peace with being a wyvern instead

Small snores came from you curled around Wednesday under a tree as a tiger. She could only focus on how you always somehow resembled your human face

Turning to a new page of her journal, the Addams girl starts to sketch the face of your tiger next to the one of your lion. No matter what form you’d take, Wednesday would be able to recognize it.

[sweetkiitsunez]

HI I'M THE ONE WHO REQUESTED THE RECENT SMUT, IF U WANNA MAKE IT PUBLIC UR GONNA HAVE TO POST IT AGAIN I THINK, I SEARCHED IT UP AND I DON'T THINK U CAN MAKE IT PUBLIC, I'M SO SAURI

PLS TELL ME U HAVE A COPY OF IT

❞𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭 - synopsis: being sandwiched by two kings

❞warning: nsfw content (18+) + sub!Gender neutral!reader + threesome + dacryphilia + double penetration + degradation and praising + Dom!Lucifer and Dom!Levithan + unprotective sex + size kink (?) + deepthroat + creampies + dubxon(?) + errors + being slap by Levithan

a/n: repost bcs I literally had a major panic attack when my smut was accidentally privated anyway!! problem fixed!! now I can relax now _(´ཀ`」 ∠) _

"ngh...ah...ah..." the sound of moans coming from your mouth as you're being sandwiched by two kings. King of Pride, Lucifer is holding your thighs as he is licking your tears. King of Envy, Levithan is thrusting his hips destroying your hole. Your back is leaning on Lucifer's chest as he opens your legs wider for Levithan to thrust.

You don't remember how you got yourself into this mess. You remember being cornered by two powerful kings and then your clothes are gone or ripped into shreds.

"Fuck... you're tight..." the King of Envy groans as he thrust his cock inside your hole. He has gone into a quicker and faster pace. In and out of your hole

"Hmm... look Solomon of Descendant. You're doing good..." Lucifer praised as his sharp black fingernails poked your cheeks, so he could taste your tears. You could feel Lucifer's crotch rising from his pants. Levithan is the only person that is fucking your hole.

"Ngh... s-slow down. N-ngh, a-ah! ah!" You moaned as you placed your hand on his chest, groping his right chest as he let out a husky moan.

You can feel the tip of Levithan's cock hitting your g-spot as you couldn't help letting out a loud cry, although that makes Lucifer ten times more excited to hear your cries. His crotch raised as it hit your buttocks.

"Hmph, you're... ngh, sensitive, slut..." Levithan scoffs as he slowly pulls out his cock halfway into your hole. Hearing your whiny cries makes Lucifer hard. He loves hearing your cries and your moans. It sounds like music to his ears. He wants to know how does your insides feel like? Is it tight...?

"Let's not bully, Solomon of Descendant, Levithan," Lucifer said as he leaned his chin on your right shoulder. While the tip of his fingernails drawing circles on your perky nipples as your body trembles.

Levithan made a scrawl look on his face. His jealousy is slowly hitting him as he gives Lucifer an intense stare. You're already worn out for some reason.

"Let's share our little Solomon of Descendant, King Levithan, how about that?" Lucifer wraps his arms around your naked waist as he looks at Levithan. Of course, the King of Envy wants you, all for himself. He hates sharing with other Kings or other Noble Demons. Lucifer seems to see his hint of jealousy as he gropes your chest, twists and pulls your nipples and you let out a squeal. Your head is leaning against Lucifer's shoulder as your eyes roll back to your skull as you stick your tongue out.

"Hmph, I would like to see you try..." Levithan gives Lucifer the same scrawling look. He doesn't want to give up on you for Lucifer nor want to share with others. Does sound like a challenge to him. He would love to see your fuck face with his cum all over your face and insides.

"Your tongue is truly extraordinary..." He lifts your chin and his thumbs open your mouth as he rubs his thumb on your tongue. You look amazing when your dazed eyes look at his cold ones. "Open your mouth for me, slut."

You could tell that Lucifer and Levithan were switching positions and you were onto all four positions. You were immediately been slapped in the face by Levithan's angry dick in front of your face. Slender and beautiful... there's his pre-cum appearing on the tip of his cock. So delicious... your jaw trembled as you opened your mouth wide for him, just like Levithan requested. You could feel Lucifer's sharp nails holding onto your hips. You shift your gaze to Lucifer...

Your eyes widen when you see his size compared to Mammon. There's no way that "thing" will fit into your hole! He will break you apart!

"T-Too big, Lucifer!" You cried. "Y-You're gonna break me apart!"

"Stay still, don't move your hips, love..." Lucifer's soft words spoke. The tip of his large cock kisses your walls as you let out a closed whine.

Levithan doesn't seem to like it when your attention is focused on Lucifer. He grips your hair as he shoved his whole length into your mouth, completely deepthroating you as you gag and choke on his cock. He loved your fucked facial expression as he grips your hair hard enough to pull some strands. He let out a pornographic groan as his whole length is into your mouth down to your throat.

"Your mouth... oh... it's warm..." Levithan groans as he leans his head back.

"I'm putting it in, Solomon..." Lucifer leaned in as he whispered into your ear. He isn't rough like Levithan as he gently pushed his length through your walls and into your insides. Your eyes roll back in your skull as he is inside your hole. Oh god... he is big...

"You're tight... ah... be good for me, okay?" Lucifer chuckles as he rubs your bums.

Levithan is busy fucking your mouth as you couldn't answer Lucifer. The sound of your gag and choke and Levithan's moans as he is deepthroating your throat. Lucifer seems gentle as he moves his hips against yours. You could feel the tip of his cock kissing your g-spot every time he moves. It's good... It feels so good..

However, it didn't last long as Lucifer is starting to pick up the pace as he roughly fucking your hole. Levithan takes it as a challenge as he continues to deepthroat your mouth at a faster pace. Your jaw feels so sore. Lucifer continues to stretch your walls as he continues to ram your insides.

"F-fuck... you're taking me so well, slut..." Levithan groans as his dazed eyes look into yours. He is covered in sweats and his cheeks are flustered soft red. Lucifer is loving this... you're so much smaller than him. He wants to eat you... or take you away from Levithan and continue to destroy your hole.

"J-Just a little more..." Lucifer mumbled. "Ah... Look how good you take it."

Levithan let out a scoff as he gave Lucifer the coldest glare. He is praising them? How pathetic... You are just a slut for him. A good cumdump or a fuck toy where Levithan can, "hang" you.

"U-ugh! Mm-! Aah-!" Levithan could feel his orgasm was reaching. Your teary eyes... too bad that Lucifer couldn't see it as he is behind you. He just wipes it with his black gloves. "Fuck... your throat... A-ah! Mm...! I-I'm cumming... be still s-slut!" He let out a heavy moan as he thrust his hips into your mouth.

"I'm cumming... Aah... nngh! God, you're so tight..." Lucifer lets out a shaky moan as he continues to thrust his hips against yours. The sound continues to thrust his hips against yours. The sound of wet skin slapping echoes throughout the room. Your eyes roll back as you feel warm semen enter your body. You just let out a muffled cry as you feel Levithan's semen. Lucifer is filling you with his cum as he slowly pulls it out after his orgasm. Levithan pulls out cock out of your mouth as he harshly cup your cheeks.

"Open your mouth for me, slut." He commends with a cold, sultry voice. You slowly open your mouth as your tongue sticks out covered in his cum.

"Drink it, whore. I want it gone." He said as you closed your mouth as you swallow his cum, before showing it to him. He seems satisfied.

You're so tired all of a sudden... you wanted to close your eyes until you heard Levithan spoke up.

"I don't care if it takes all night, you will submit." You could see his eyes glowing as he met yours. You knew that you were good as dead meat.

"Aah! Nngh! O-oh god...! F-fuck! A-ah!" The sound of your high-pitched moan as you are being sandwiched by Lucifer and Levithan. You are leaning on Lucifer's chest since Levithan is still giving dirty glares at Lucifer while he fucks your hole and giving your attention away to Lucifer. He luckily gives in, since he doesn't want to deal with Levithan's envious as long he is taking you, very well. Two cocks are deeply inside you while Lucifer is supporting you as he spread and held your thighs wide while they're fucking you. You had no idea how long they had been penetrating your holes. You already feel so full... You could see your stomach bulge due to Levithan''s cock is moving in your walls.

"N-ngh!! W-wa! A-ah! M-More, please! Mmm!! Aah!!" You scream while Lucifer and Levithan are destroying you as they are thrusting roughly. Being fucked on the bed, then now you're being lifted or carried. You don't remember how many times that you had come. Your thighs are already wet, and now you're hearing loud sloppy wet noises of skin slapping.

"Did you come already? Tsk, such a whore." Levithan scoffs as he looks into your faced face. "So weak..."

"Solomon, you did so well..." You hear Lucifer whisper some praises in your ears as he leans into licks your tears. His tongue is sharp like sandpaper.

"Tsk, why are you praising them? They're such a crybaby..." He taunts Lucifer, but he doesn't seem to care as he is much more focused on your delicious tears and your cries that turned him on.

"N-nghm...! N-no more...! S-so full..." You moaned as you placed your hands on Levithan's shoulders as he held your thighs to spread it wider.

"Hmph, you seem more sensitive than usual." Levithan pointed it out as he continued to thrust his hips against you, his hand gripping harshly on your sore cheekbones to make him look into his eyes.

"Be gentle with them..." Lucifer let out a sultry groan as he continued to grind his hips against you.

You couldn't answer them as they're fucking you really good. They're so big... as if they're ready to rip you apart. Being fucked by the most beautiful demons in Hell. Your orgasm is approaching behind you. The light is so bright that you feel like your eyelids are getting heavier. You were immediately being slap on the face by Levithan with annoyed look on his face.

"Pay attention, slut." He said with a sultry voice as he pulled your face closer to his and his lips pressed against yours. Hearing your muffled moans and cries when his tongue swirls against yours.

"Hah... ngh...! L-leaving me behind, heh... ah..." Lucifer chuckled with a smirk as he leaned against your neck and gently blew your marked neck covered with bite marks and hickeys from Lucifer and Levithan. Lucifer's bite mark was the painful one, but he liked it when you cried out loud, turning him on, again. Levithan pulls away from you and leaves a trail of saliva as he ignores Lucifer's remarks. "Hmph... ngh!"

Levithan and Lucifer are close as their thrust is getting more intense. You have no idea how much you came as there is your sex liquids are now dripping from your hole onto the floor. Your legs is on Levithan's shoulders.

"You like it that much, hm?" Levithan groans as his eyes are focused on you. He felt envy for you being pressured. He is gonna come as he let out another grunt. "If you want to cum you'd better beg."

"You look good all soaking wet..." Lucifer hums as he leans forward from behind as he licks your tears. "Such a good human..."

"G-gonna c-cum...!! N-ngh!! A-ah!! Ah! pleaseplease! L-let me cum!! A-ah! Aaah!!" You babbles as you look at Levithan with a pleading look your head leaning against Lucifer's sweaty chest.

Lucifer looks at Levithan who doesn't look pleased. "Let them cum." The fallen angel said as he snuggled between your neck and shoulder.

Levithan could only roll his eyes as he let out, "Fine, let them cum... We're not stopping anyways... Ngh! Aaah...!"

Lucifer doesn't say anything as he is focusing on his orgasm and yours too. "F...fuck... you're good... cry for me. Cry for me, Solomon..." Lucifer groans hearing his heavy breathing.

You could feel cums shooting your insides as you release your orgasm and leans on Lucifer's sweaty chest, all tired. Lucifer and Levithan seem to release their orgasm when they shoot their cums in your fucked hole. Hear the panting in the room, but their cocks are still inside you as they want to keep their cums deep in your hole preventing them from spilling out.

You felt Levithan grab your arm as it shook you. His eyes is still filled with lust as if he is possessed.

"We're not done, yet Descendants of Solomon..." Levithan let out a sadistic smile. His grip is tight.

"Bare with us, Descendants of Solomon..." Lucifer places his hand on your shoulder while the other one is supporting your hips.

This is gonna be a long night...

[thebigbadbatswife]

The Mask... Take It Off...

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary - You ask Ghost to take the mask off.

Warnings - 18+ ONLY! Smut. Vaginal sex. Rough Sex. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Blindfold.

A/N - An old one shot I found in my backlog. Enjoy 💜

Word Count - 1.4k

The small room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, skin slapping against skin and soft moans. Each roll of your hips brings you closer and closer until you are teetering on the edge of what truly feels like insanity. Your body is hot. Pleasure is burning through every nerve in your body while sweat drips and runs down your skin; the taste of salt filling your mouth. 

Ghost has been working you all night. Bringing you toward the edge over and over again, but never actually letting you reach it. You are starting to get the feeling that he does it because he likes to torture you.

His back is against the wall. While his hands rest on your thighs. Occasionally they move from their place to slap your ass or roughly play with one of your tits. 

Those deep brown eyes of his, framed by equally dark eyelashes, watch you intensely. It’s the only part of his face that you can see. It’s the only part of his face that you have ever seen. Except maybe Soap. He’s always wearing a some sort of balaclava or skull mask. It drives you mad. All you want is to feel his lips and tongue on your skin. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples or his tongue lapping at your drooling pussy. 

With how hot and bothered you are you have no freaking clue how he’s even still able to wear the damn thing. If it was you underneath that balaclava you would feel like you’re suffocating. 

Out of breath, with your legs aching, you slow your movements down, but don’t stop completely. You lean forward and press your forehead against how, doing your best to ignore how much you hate the feeling of the material against your sweat soaked skin. Your hands come to rest on the tops of his pecks.

“Ghost?” 

“Yeah, lovie?” he asks. His voice sounds strained. It comes as no surprise to you considering how hard he is inside of you. His cock twitching each time your walls flutter around him. He’s got to be as close to his own climax as you are to your own. 

You hesitate for a moment before taking a deep breath and asking the question you always ask.

“The mask? Take it off? For me?” 

You don’t expect anything to come from your asking. It never had done before. He usually flips you onto your front and fucks you into the mattress until you’re shaking from the after effects of your own orgasm and dripping with his. Before he unceremoniously pulls out from you and leaves you to deal with the mess all alone. Usually avoiding you for weeks afterwards until the next time he needs a release.

He looks at you for a moment, completely silent. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t quite recognise. It’s a long moment. One where the only things you can hear is your heart beat thumping in your ears and the squelching noise that your cunt and his cock make together sounds even louder than it did a few minutes ago.

He’s never looked at you like that before, you quickly realise. There’s no time for you to question it or figure out what that look means as he reaches for the bedside cabinet. Where his knife is laying. Ghost uses it to slice a strip of cloth out of the bedsheet and sets it aside. He brings the piece of scrap cloth up to your eyes and covers them, tying it behind your head. 

You can’t see shit now, but you don’t question it. You trust him and that extends to whatever the hell it is he is currently doing.

“How many fingers am I holdin’ up?” 

“The fuck am I suppose to know?” you whine. Your pace slows further and you can feel your incoming climax fading away. Your legs are really starting to kill you.

“Just checkin’.” He slaps your ass, hard. Making you yelp.

The next thing you know there’s a rustling and you hear something hit the floor. Ghost takes hold of your hands and brings them up to his face. 

Holy fuck. He actually took his mask off for you.

Your fingers trace his face, mapping out every little detail you come across. You want to commit all of it to memory. While you can’t see him, this is certainly a step in the right direction. 

Ghost has pleasantly full lips and a sharp jawline. Already you’re thinking about how nice it will feel to kiss him. Those lips moving with your own in perfect harmony. 

You move away from the thought and continue your exploration. His nose is crooked and there’s a bump in the bridge from where it’s been broken countless times in the past. And you know exactly where his scars are from the way his skin is raised and rough in places. There’s not as many as you thought there would be. The biggest one that captures your attention is on the side of his face. Starting at his forehead, snaking just past his eye and down his cheek, toward his mouth. 

None of them shock you. At least, not completely. And you don’t think that they take away from how handsome you think he must look. 

As you’re tracing his face, you can feel Ghost shifting and moving beneath you, adjusting your positions slightly. Before you can ask what he’s doing he roughly thrusts up into you.

You moan loudly as your hands slide up to grip his hair. It’s a little bit longer than you were expecting it to be, but that makes it perfect for grabbing and tugging on. And you imagine it to be as dark as his eyes.

Ghost sets a hard and fast pace and builds your pleasure back up tenfold. Your moans quickly grow into cries as he fucks you. The grip that you have on his hair tightens as you desperately try to ground yourself. After being edged all night long you honestly feel like you might spontaneously combust. 

Suddenly you feel as if you are falling. With another yelp, this time out of fear not surprise, your fingers leave his hair to grab hold of his broad shoulders as your heart skips a beat. Your back hits the softness of the mattress and, for the first time ever, his lips meets yours in a passionate kiss. Even now you take note of how this is your first kiss ever with him and it’s completely and utterly perfect. You moan into the kiss as his tongue pushes past your lips and into your mouth. He tastes like peppermint gum. 

His pace remains just as relentless as before. The bed starts to creak with every thrust that he gives you. Your body jumps as the pad of his calloused thumb presses against your clit and he starts rubbing it in time of his thrusts.

All of that tension that has been building up inside of you all night long finally snaps. Euphoria rushes through every inch of you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your back arches and a wordless cry, muffled by Ghost’s mouth, leaves you. The feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock has Ghost falling over the edge straight after you. His hips stuttering as his cock twitches and he fills your pussy to the brim, so that you’re overflowing with his cum. He collapses against you, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

With the absence of your bodies moving, the room is now only filled with the sounds of heavy breathing.

“Thank you. For trusting me, Ghost.” you finally say as you run your fingers through his hair.

There’s a pause. You expect him to pull away and to leave. Like he always does. But tonight is a night of firsts apparently. 

“It’s Simon.”

It’s your turn to pause for a moment. A part of your brain almost has you looking at him before you remember the makeshift blindfold you still have on. 

“What?” you ask, not sure if you had heard him right.

“My name,” he replies. “It’s Simon.” 

You truly feel honoured by the amount of trust that he is showing you tonight. First with removing his balaclava and letting you feel his face and now with telling you his real name. You know that it must take a lot for him.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Simon.”

[jinxvex]

PLEASSSSEEEE SOME MEL APPRECIATION!! I WANT SOME SMUTTY SWEATY SMUT WITH AFTERCARE PLSOSL

♱ insatiable. ♱

I LOVE THIS REQ!! TY!! + i am still alive, i promise! i've been lazy w/ writing but i'm getting back on the grind!!

(ALSO! i'm not ignoring your asks (i swear!!))

syp. messy tribbing with mel....

cw: nsfw content!!, tribbing/scissoring, dirty talk, sub-ish!mel, dom-ish!reader, praising/sweet sex, lil bit of teasing, lil bit nasty, vulgar language, AFTERCARE!!! she’s needy for u!

mel medarda is insatiable when it comes to you—completely, utterly, and truly insatiable.

mel is usually one to be perfectly put together. you marvel at how perfect she is; not a hair out of place, no stains on her designer clothing, and not a single piece of gold jewelry twisted or mismatched in any way. she takes pride in her appearance and how people view her as a spectacle; someone to admire and strive to be.

oh! what the people would think if they saw her now…

mel is perched comfortably above you, having found the perfect position to pin you down and grind her sloppy wet pussy against yours. her hands grip your shoulders while yours dig into her hips so she can't run. she’s propped one of your legs up on her shoulder to get as close as possible, mouth open wide in the shape of an O. she’s dripping wet, cunt sensitive, and stretched out from the various ways in which you fingered her, fucked her with the strap, and then some.

she still can’t get enough.

“god! f-fuck, you feel incredible. s-so good,” she’s repeating herself over and over, brain blurry and filled with only images of you and the way you make her fully feel. the way your pussy, which is almost as wet as hers, feels against her has her mind reeling.

your shared wetness is leaking down onto the bed, creating a large, cold wet spot below you. you're groaning at how her pussy kisses yours, a short string of cum gathering between you two each time you meet. her pace is slow, and calculated. like everything she does.

you laugh, enthralled at her desire, “yeah, baby? you fuckin’ like grinding your needy little cunt on me? after all the times you came? you’re all stretched out ‘n you’re still begging for more, ‘s cute.”

the tone in which she responds is nothing short of pleading.

“hmph. mhm! fuck yes, babe. i need you. need you to let me come all over you. wanna make a mess f’you."

“p-please…”

her need—her longing ignites a new sense of urgency in you. you need to make her gush, make her pussy cream over yours, and create something so fucking messy but still beautiful nevertheless.

you want to paint her in you.

you quicken your hips that hastily move upwards to meet hers and find your head lifting off of the bed to stare deeper into her eyes. your grip on her hips grows slightly painful. mel lets out an abrupt yelp, resembling a scream, signifying her surprise.

“keep goin’, melly. wanna feel that pussy cum. you’re gonna fucking make a mess all over me, princess.”

you continue.

“make yourself cum. gimme that shit, babe. yeeeah, gimme that pretty fuckin' pussy.”

she stills, hips stuttering and eyes rolling to the back of her skull.

“f-fuhh- oh my god! m’ cumming!”

“me too, baby, fuck! can feel you throbbing.”

and with those words alone, she’s gushing against you, clutching your leg in her hands in a silent scream and mouth wide open. she rides out her high, broken moans and cries falling from her lips, breaking her pleasure-induced silence.

“that’s it, melly, f-fuuuck. give it to me."

miraculously, her pussy is drenching your lower half in her cum—mixing with yours and it’s beautiful.

white clouds her vision, droplets of sweat dripping down her brows as she collapses on top of you. she quickly wraps her arms around you and she’s breathing heavily.

she’s definitely done for the night.

as she buries her head into your shoulder, your arms cage her in and wrap around her back. you break your own silence to praise her, worship her like she deserves.

“mm, good girl. you did so good for me, gorgeous.”

“you came so hard, didn’t you, baby?”

she nods, unable to speak.

“yeah, babe. you deserve it.”

mel then looks up, eyebrows furrowed and capturing your eyes with her fucked-out gaze. her lips part.

she inches closer to your lips, “kiss, please.”

“of course, c’mere.”

when you kiss her, you do it softly by cupping her smooth face in your hands and gently guiding her lips along yours. she can still taste herself on your tongue and that makes her close in even deeper, appreciating the closeness and intimacy of truly feeling herself within you.

you break the kiss to look at her, you smile and stifle a laugh at her disheveled state although you still see her as the most beautiful, magnificent gift the world could ever offer you.

“wha-what’s so funny!” she jokingly accuses you of nothing and everything all at once.

“nothing, you just- you’re beautiful, melly. i love you.”

“and, i love you, sweetheart.”

your smile deepens, “good. now let’s go shower.”

…

lmk if y'all want more aftercare for future writings... i need to practice with it!!

[diejager]

may i ask stalker!simon taking advantage of his sweetheart with a gun? 👀

Stalker!Simon, hmmmmm :)

Surprise Visit

Pairing: Stalker!Ghost x reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, stalking, gun, obsession, rough oral sex, blowjob, face fucking, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1k

You’ve walked this path multiple times, every night and every morning, over and over again. You knew this path like the palm of your hand, having taken it all your life. Granted, you had changed street from time to time for a change of normalcy, but it was always the same block or side of the city you took to get to and fro work and home. You were comfortable with your little life, slightly bored by how inactive you were, but you wouldn’t trade it for any kind of trouble.

So it was a surprise - was it truly? You’d grown so comfortable that you stopped keeping your guard up - when you were toughly pushed into your apartment the moment your locked clicked open. You tumbled in, eyes widened and ready to scream out for help, when the man covered your mouth, pressing his weight on yours. You shook, fearfully breathing through your nose as the door closed behind you, your only escape blocked by a heavy mass over you, hand clamped around your cheeks and holding you down. 

You hear him shush you, a deep, baritone voice that cooed at your teary eyes, his small praises at your frightful expression. His words dripped with adoration, a sickly and dark affection that made your skin crawl. You should have looked before opening your door. You should have been more caution in a world where both men and women prowled to attack one another, those disgusting and desperate ones that would do anything to get a taste. If he wanted money, you’d give it all to him, you valued your life more than—

“Stay quiet for me, love, ” he rasped, his hot breath hitting your ear, feeling your side before he slipped a hand under his jacket, “Behave, yeah?”

He pulled a gun, the dreadful click of the safety acting as a warning to you, a deterrent to stop you from acting out —from misbehaving. He cocked his gun rather than repeating his words and you nodded hastily, or as best as you could with his bruising grip on your face. He turned you around and peered down at you from his crooked nose, his dark chocolate eyes seemed almost black, a devouring pit that drew your eyes to his. Gun pointed at your head, he motioned you to your knees, kneeling between his spread legs, running his other hand through your mess of locks. 

“Good girl, ” he groaned, pulling you to face his growing bulge, his cock tenting the seams of his pants. He ground against your lips, rutting your face with low huffs and pants, hissing when your nose nudged it, “Pull my cock out.”

You swallowed down your hesitance when you caught the red gleam in his eyes, shaky hands palming his jeans for the zipper, pulling his pants down his hips and watched the wet patch growing on his grey briefs. He grunted at your slow pace, impatiently pressing the muzzle to your temple and only loosening his hold on your hair when he cock bounced out, the heaviness of it making his length hang between his thighs. 

“Suck.”

Having no choice, you licked your dried lips to ease your anxiety, wrapping them around his leaky tip and running your tongue over his slit, tasting the salty tang of his pre. Your stomach rolled in disgust, the threat of food and stomach acid running up your throat screaming louder in your mind. Willing yourself to finish this quickly, hoping he’d leave after you gave… gave him a blowjob, you sunk further down his length. Staring up at his masked face, locked between his legs with his skull-painted mask and dangerous eyes.

He was thick and veiny, the burn of it’s throb churning your stomach as you took in more and more until you almost choked. He huffed at your inability to take more than half of him, narrowing his eyes at the tears running down your cheeks when he abruptly thrust down your throat, head thrown back at your choke, throat swallowing around his twitching head. 

“Fuck, ” a low moan slipped from his tongue, his hips moving back and forth, taking in your desperate cries and gagging while he took from you, “Always knew you had a hot mouth. Bloody tight.”

You could hardly breathe with the rough drive of his hips, ramming his cock so deeply that you could taste him on the back of your throat and in your guts. You could fight and struggle, but wouldn’t be able to stop him, to escape his treatment or run away when he had a hard grip on your head, a gun in his hand and blocked the door. All you could do was cry and take it, appease him in hopes that he wouldn’t kill you if he was satisfied.

And it seemed he was, taking such a liking to your tear-streaked face, swollen lips wrapped around the girth of his cock and nose buried in his messy bush while he took and took, bartering your throat until it’d bruised. He came down your throats with a few more thrusts, staring you down his nose while he slipped as deep as he could. You choked on his heady cum, roped spurting from the tip and filled your stomach with an uncomfortable amount, it was hot and bitter, and there were so, so much that it spilled from your lips, dripping down your chin and staining jeans. 

You gasped when he pulled out, somewhat happy that you had swallowed his cum. You cough and sputtered, folded at his feet as you sobbed, babbling pleas to be let off now that you’d fulfilled his sick fantasy. He only crouched down, running his hands through your hair like he wanted to comfort you, tenderly petting you for the favour you did.

“You did good, love, ” he praised, a chuckle rumbling off his shoulder, proud and gleeful. He even put his gun away, “This stays between us, understood? You can keep our little secret, yeah, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, ” you rasped, signing your soul away to the devil in a balaclava.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[emmg]

“I will be but a moment,” Emmrich says, gracing her forehead with a smooch like he’s heading off to grab milk and not vanishing into the depths of the Grand Necropolis. Off he goes to do whatever it is necromancers find utterly fascinating(debating the emotional integrity of femurs, cooing at runes, reorganizing skulls by sentimental value) while the rest of the world collectively shits its pants at the mere idea.

It is absolutely not just a moment.

It’s a whole cascading avalanche of moments. Hours, really. She’s done everything short of starting a one-woman interpretive dance routine to keep busy, and she is so done. It’s cold. It’s dark. Everyone here is approximately seventeen ancient tomes smarter than she is and smug about it. She’s not even sure they breathe oxygen.

She wants to go back to the Lighthouse, curl up on her unfortunate green settee and pretend the only dead things in her life are the flowers she keeps forgetting to water.

Eventually, she finds Vorgoth.

"Hey, Vorgoth," she says. "Do you think you could, I don't know, send Emmrich a heads up that I'll be heading back soon? I really can't keep waiting for him."

"HE ENTWINES THE FLOWS OF UNSPEAKABLE RESONANCE BENEATH THE SEVENTH STRATA OF THE CHARNAL PYRAMIDS."

"All right," she says, not even listening, "that’s great, I’m thrilled for him, truly, but I am also incredibly hungry, so like I said I’ll be—"

"IT IS DISAGREEABLY CURSED. THE GATES OF BONE MUST NOT GAPE IN THE PRESENCE OF UNVERIFIED WILL. THE SIGILS REMEMBER WHAT THE LIVING HAVE FORGOTTEN."

She takes a moment to stare at Vorgoth, at the tendrils of smoke, or shadows, or possibly some kind of sentient ennui, spilling from beneath their hood.

“Amazing. Well. I don’t plan on poking around in any cursed pyramids, disagreeable or otherwise. I do, however, plan on returning to the Lighthouse and collapsing onto something soft, vaguely clean, and deeply un-haunted. So could you please—"

She’s already turning away. She knows exactly how many steps it takes to reach the eluvian; has counted them, loathed them, prayed over them. Maybe the Caretaker will be in a talkative mood, or at least let her loiter without judgment while she waits for it to ferry her back to the Vi’Revas. She really wants to gossip about that horrendously attractive Antaam stomping around the Crossroads.

Vorgoth catches her off guard.

"THE VESSEL OF FLESH REBELS. HIS BODY PURGES THE RESIDUE OF THE INNER ROT. HE MUST NOT BE DISTURBED."

She falters.

"...What the fuck? Is he—are you saying he’s on a toilet?"

"THE THRONE OF AGONY KNOWS MANY FORMS."

She takes a full step back. “All right. All right, but you’re saying a throne. Like, metaphorical? Or are we talking a literal, haunted latrine situation? Does he need tea? A compress? A medic? A priest? A bucket?"

Should she get Lucanis? Wait, why Lucanis? What is he going to do? Sneak up on the diarrhea and assassinate it? Whisper menacingly to Emmrich’s lower intestine until it falls in line?

Maybe Davrin, then. Maybe he could lend her Assan, and the griffon could majestically swoop through the Necropolis to deliver Emmrich a roll of paper and a heartfelt “get well soon” screech. She could even pack a snack basket. Some dried fruit. A scented candle. A handwritten note that says “please stop being like this.”

Why is she thinking about this? Why is she building an entire rescue operation in her head? Why is this the hill she has chosen to die on today?

"THE STENCH OF PURIFICATION IS UNYIELDING."

"Oh my Maker, he is on a toilet," Rook whines. "He's been gone for hours, Vorgoth. Hours. What did he eat? Was it cursed?"

"THE SACRED INTESTINES OF KORTH’S FALLEN BEASTS—"

"NO. Nope. I don’t want to know. Take it back. I un-ask the question."

There’s a pause. A long one. The kind of pause that suggests even the shadows are contemplating whether to kill themselves rather than continue existing in a reality where this conversation is happening.

"...HE PERFORMS THE RITE OF BINDING. THERE IS NO TOILET."

Her eye twitches so violently she briefly wonders if she’s about to have an aneurysm. She thinks she might be about to throw up. Right into Vorgoth’s hood.

“Why... Why would you say all that other stuff first, then?”

"THE MORTAL TONGUE LACKS PRECISION."

She feels something rupture in her brain.

"I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, VORGOTH!" she yells, just as Emmrich materializes from thin air and wraps his arms around her middle to start dragging her away from the robed figure.

"Ah, you found Vorgoth," he says. "Did they help?"

"NO."

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Bad at feelings but deep in love

Summary: He doesn't know how to flirt, he kind of just watches from afar. You try to flirt, but you stumble over your words. Is there hope for two fools?

It was painfully obvious that you liked Logan. It was also painfully obvious that Logan liked you. Alas, it was apparently only obvious to Wade.

Wade had been trying to help both of you with realizing the other's feelings. He cringed when he watched the two of you try to flirt. You were really trying; he will give you an A for effort but my god you have to get a F in accuracy. Every time you tried to talk to Logan you just stumbled over your words and turn bright red. It didn't help that he was glaring at you with a glaze that would strike a god down. The more you stuttered the brighter you became until finally you would go and hide from him for the rest of the night.

Logan would get flirty and give you praise and compliments, but they just flew right over your pretty little head. Wade rolled his eyes when he heard you try to argue back that he didn't mean anything by calling you beautiful and by giving you nicknames like princess. "That's just how he is," you tried to argue but were only met with Wade's eyes rolling far back into his skull, "how he is?!? Have you met the beast??"

Logan has been trying to get you to notice his feelings towards you, he didn't realize he wasn't doing a good job at that until Wade pulled him aside one night after you had left their place. "Do you not like her?" Wade asked, truly concerned. He was starting to get worried that he had read the situation wrong.

Logan furrowed his brows and tilted his head. That was the stupidest thing Wade ever asked him. "What are you talking about?" Logan grumbled, Wade looked at him with a sassy look on his face, "Look, wolvie, if you keep glaring at her like that, I think you might actually kill her. You just sit and glare towards her. If looks could kill, she'd be six feet deep already." Once Wade was done explaining, it clicked to Logan that maybe he wasn't flirting properly. Maybe it had been a while since he did all of this.

After everything clicked for Logan, he tried to step up his game. He could flirt, he could make you fall for him. He tried to keep that confidence while he waited for you to come over but once he saw you, he crumbled. Fuck why do you have to be so damn pretty? He felt himself starting to tense up again and his glare formed on his face. Fuck that's not what he wanted at all! Before you could come up to him, he rushed to the bathroom to calm down and gather his confidence again.

You were worried about him when you saw him rushing to the bathroom. You waited a few minutes and when he didn't come back you decided to go check on him. "Logan?" You asked meekly. Before you could knock on the door, the door flew open. You looked up at him and could feel a blush starting to form. He took a deep breath and gave you a smile, "Hey." He said in a whisper. You smiled at him in return, "Hi."

For the first time, things felt comfortable between the two of you. Everything felt right.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

[bankabb]

Sash

Fic written by @razildor

This is page 1 of 4. To view full uncensored comic Here

Fic written by @razildor for our mini-collab 💚

Tensions are high to say the least as the two enter Emmrich's room. The taller one removes his coat carefully, trying to control the bubbling anger deep within his chest, yet failing as he throws it onto the chair near his desk, hazel eyes never leaving the woman's tense back after setting his staff to the side.

“You should have taken the other path-”

“Oh Maker Emmrich! It's too late for that now! It's over isn't it? We did what we set out to accomplish: taking down that Venatori group.”

Dahlia rolls her eyes, sighing in annoyance, removing her own coat and throwing it onto the same chair as Emmrich’s.

“By you being so reckless? Just to shave a few seconds off? They SAW you coming! If it wasn’t for Davrin’s shield they would have-”

“Yet you never bothered to say anything before I told the team to take that path?! Why?”

“I… Well I thought you would make a far more educated guess! That’s why I didn’t say-”

“So you were being too nice to question my actions?”

“It wasn’t a matter of being ‘nice’. It was a matter of-”

The Mage grunts at the prod to his chest from Dahlia’s finger, glaring down at her. She doesn't back down, stepping onto her tiptoes to poke at his chest again, trying to match his height yet failing, being far smaller than him.

“If my recklessness is a problem then your niceness is a problem as well!”

“I beg your pardon? How is that a problem?”

Dahlia huffs in annoyance as she settles back onto her feet, crossing her arms to glare up at Emmrich, her anger getting the better of her.

“You’re too fucking nice with everything you do! And I mean everything!”

"Volkarin couldn't fight himself out of a paper bag! He'd be politely asking it to remove itself!" Johanna’s skull adds from her perch.

Emmrich sighs loudly, a wave of his hand silencing the skull with a spell. Looking back at Dahlia with a deep frown, his hands steeple in front of him, trying to gain some control of the tense situation, without the ‘help’ from the half lich.

“Now, without the ‘helpful’ insight from Johanna. Dahlia, please. This is not the matter of my so-called ‘niceness’ being the problem here, it’s clearly your ability to be reckless.”

“Right, as if you could be anything but nice.”

Dahlia rolls her eyes, turning to head towards the bookcase to find something to read. Anything to get her mind off the mission and the stupid argument the two were having, wanting nothing more than to relax for the rest of the evening before sleeping.

“I’m sorry… What did you just say?”

Emmrich’s tone is low, deeper than normal. Something in the air has changed, but Dahlia doesn’t pay much mind to it. She rolls her eyes again as she takes a book off a shelf, reading the title for a second, opening the pages as she replies, off-hand.

“I said: as if you could be anything but nice.”

The only warning Dahlia has is his fast approaching footsteps, followed by a hand on her shoulder forcing her to turn. A gasp leaves her lips at the sight of Emmrich’s disheveled look, his eyes aglow green. There is a deep growl from the Necromancer as he crushes his lips against hers, pushing Dahlia back into the bookcase, ignoring the books that fall from it and her hand.

“Too nice am I? Really?” He spits out.

A gold-ringed hand shifts to grab her neck, using his height to tower over her, strands of his silver hair covering his eyes. Dahlia glares up at Emmrich, reaching up to pull on the chain of his collar pin, bringing him even closer down to her. Lips push against his, followed by a bite, words slipping from her lips before she can think, truly being reckless.

“As if you can be anything but nice”

The Necromancer's eyes narrow at her challenge. He gives a grunt as he pulls her closer by the neck, lips once more pressing together, his teeth giving a sharp nip.

“Then allow me to prove myself, darling.”

Emmrich gives Dahlia little time to react, dragging her towards his desk by the arm, pushing her to lay flat on the cold surface. His ringed hands quickly strip her bottom half off. Falling to his knees, Emmrich pushes apart Dahlia’s thighs, diving between them. There is hunger in his eyes as the Necromancer slides a wet tongue from hole to bud, rubbing in small circles as her hands find their way into his hair. She pushes up into his mouth begging for more.

“Oh, Maker, Emmrich! More! Please!”

Emmrich pulls back slightly, a chuckle leaving his chest. Dahlia shivers from his warm breath, his chin already covered in her fluids. A clatter of gold rings land on the desk and a soft gasp leaves her at the feeling of a large finger sliding into her warmth. Pushing and pulling, twisting and turning, then more fingers, gradually picking up speed until the air is filled with the slick sound of her cunt. Her hips roll to meet each thrust, the tightening of pleasure building more and more, balancing on the brink yet missing that extra edge.

“O-oh… Fuc- Ahhhhhh! Emmrich please.. a little- mo-more!

The tongue returns over her swollen bud, dancing over it, sending spikes of pleasure running through her body, fingers holding on for dear life as Dahlia finally tips over the edge with a cry, back arching, chasing her climax, letting out a gasp of air as she collapses onto the desk.

Lilac grey eyes slowly come back into focus, just in time to see Emmrich licking his fingers clean of her wetness, one by one. His hazel eyes snap to meet her own as he ever so slowly licks the last finger, coming up to cage her between his arms on the desk. Dahlia’s own arms slowly sneak around his neck, a teasing grin on her lips.

“Oh, Emmrich. I knew you couldn’t be some brute. You’re far too kind for that.”

Dahlia slides her hand up his chest, coming to rest the palm over his heart, feeling it’s beat beneath it. As the Necromancer's lips part to speak, the younger Mage bites his bottom lip, a giggle leaving her at the sight of the dishevelled man.

Emmrich’s nostrils flare in annoyance, quickly pulling back ignoring the other Mage’s protest of him moving. He grabs her arm to pull her to her feet with him, crushing his lips to hers once more before turning Dahlia in his arms, pushing her over the desk with a growl.

“I see I still have much to prove to you then, my sweet.”

“Hm, you really do need to try harder, my love.”

Emmrich’s ringed hand on the back of her neck keeps her pinned, fingers tightening when she tries to move. There is the sound of cloth moving aside, then a gasp from the younger Mage at the feeling of Emmrich's cock sliding in between her legs, gathering the wetness between lips before sliding into her tight cunt, right to the base, making sure she takes all of him. As she lets out a scream, body arching upwards, she is quickly pushed back down, Emmrich giving a harsh command.

“Down. You will stay down until I am done with you.”

Her eyes widen at the feeling of something soft sliding round her waist, hoisting her hips in place, sharp thrusts giving her no time to react.

Dahlia claws at the table under her, trying in vain to get away from Emmrich's relentless thrusts into her. A cry rips from her throat as she's pulled back by the sash around her waist, each end held by gold-ringed hands.

“Oh you're not escaping.” Emmrich grunts out, emphasising his point with a sharp thrust that sends her forward, knocking her glasses askew. He keeps her hips high up by use of the sash, her toes barely brushing the floor.

“Ahhh!! Emmrich! I..I'm about to-”

Her climax crashes through her quickly, a hand quickly moving to reach behind in an attempt to halt Emmrich's thrusts into her cunt as she starts to become sensitive. He quickly snatches her hand, pinning it to her back with a dark laugh.

“We're not done yet, my dear.”

Emmrich quickly pulls Dahlia up to her feet, pinning her to the desk to give himself enough time to remove her glasses. He sets them to the side with much more care than he shows her in that moment, his hands bringing the sash up over her eyes, cutting what little sight she has off. Her breath hitches, a sense of dread bubbling in her chest as Dahlia’s vision disappears from her. A hand scrambles to the sash, trying to remove it, but a ringed hand catches her wrist. She gives a whimper at the sound of his voice near her ear.

“I will show you how ‘not nice’ I can be. You will take me deep inside, my Little Dahlia, you will take every part of me that I give you.”

The Mage quickly lifts her into the air, feet dangling as he thrusts back into her quivering warmth mercilessly over and over again, ripping screams from her throat as she comes again, squeezing around his cock, covering it with her seeping wetness. He doesn't relent, pushing her through the pleasure.

“Ohhh! Fuck! Emmrich, please!”

Her smaller hands feel their way up his arm, wrapping them around his much larger one that held her neck. Her head rests back on him, shivers running down to her core with each grunt of his into her ear. All she can do is feel him, the loss of her sight leaving her unsure on what to expect from the man that is her Emmrich. Her eyes roll back at the feeling as Emmrich’s cock hits the sweet spot that has her toes curling, mouth dropping open, a string of moans falling from her lips. Dahlia’s feet kick slightly in the air, unsure if she wants to pull away or try to push more back into him.

“Pleaseplease-”

“Take all of me, darling.”

“That's it, ohhh how exquisite your tight warmth feels around me.”

“Be a good girl and give me another, I want to feel you quivering over me until you have forgotten your very name.”

She comes crashing around his cock, squeezing tightly until her legs are quivering just as he desires, drool slowly dripping down her chin. Her cunt leaks over him and onto the floor, Dahlia’s nails digging into his arm, unaware of the marks she's leaving on him.

“That's it, take it deeper, just like that.” He mumbles into her ear, rocking his hips through her pleasure, each deep thrust pulling a gasp from her throat.

Emmrich slowly lowers Dahlia to her feet, letting her lean on him as her legs quiver. The air fills with their heavy breathing. Emmrich doesn’t remove the sash yet. Another gasp escapes her, his cock sliding deeper into her as he pulls the smaller woman closer to him, his ringed hands likely to leave marks on her hips, not that she minds.

“I thi-think you’ve proven your point, Emmrich…” Dahlia mutters breathlessly, turning to bury her face into his vest, trying to slow her beating heart. Little moans leave her lips as she squeezes uncontrollably around his still hard cock, shivering at the hot breath near her ear, her own hitching slightly at his words.

“Have I?”

Dahlia gasps at the feeling of his cold rings on her shoulder, pushing her roughly against the desk she was bent over a few moments ago.

“Emmrich! Again?!”

“Come now darling, you will take another, just for me before I fill you deep with my seed.”

Emmrich leans over her to grab her by the neck, smirking next to her ear.

“Perhaps keeping it inside you for the day will be a good reminder of what I am capable of.”

“Ha… Still waiting for you to prove anything, Emmrch.”

Emmrich thrusts back into her quivering cunt in one thrust, giving her little time to process the feeling. Each deep, rough thrust knocks the air from her lungs. Her head falls to lay on the desk, biting her lip to the point of almost breaking skin. All Dahlia can hear is the slapping of skin on skin, the wet slick sounds that accompany Emmrich’s grunts each time he thrusts in.

The wood of the desk squeaks to the rhythm of the Mage’s harsh movement, watching how his cock slips in and out of Dahlia, the way her ass ripples at each harsh thrust. A firm thrust sends the smaller woman across the desk, ripping a sharp grunt from his throat as her hands scrambling to grip the edge with a breathless laugh.

“Keep that up Emmrich, and I’ll- Ahh!”

A ringed hand in her hair pushes her down into the wood as a gloved hand pushes between her shoulders, keeping her perfectly pinned beneath the Necromancer. Her cunt squeezes around Emmrich’s hard cock as the pleasure builds within her again, as a boot nudges her legs apart.

“Legs apart darling. Oh, look at that: you can listen”

“Such a good girl.”

A whimper falls from Dahlia’s lips, eyes closing behind the blindfold as she feels her walls pulse around his cock, the praise hitting her without warning, doing such things to her body that she can never deny. Dahlia hears a breathless laugh above her, eyes shifting behind the sash, trying to pinpoint Emmrich’s next move. Her muscles stiffen at the warm breath near the tip of her pointed ear.

“Emmrich, don’t you dare-”

A long moan rips from her throat as the Necromancer’s lips brush against the tip, a small nibble before trailing lips down, being mindful of the gold piercings. She can feel the smirk on his face followed by his wet tongue slowly tracing her ear, sending shivers down her back. She can’t move, fully pinned in place by a huge gold-ringed hand that quickly grabs her by the neck again.

“I will very much dare, my dear Dahlia.” A whisper to her ear before quickly shoving her face back into the desk, hand threading through hair as he sets a brutal pace once more, ripping screams and moans of pleasure from the woman, the hand gripping her hip likely to leave marks, a sight likely to send the Necromancer feral later.

“I want another from you.”

“I-I don’t think I-ahhh can!!”

“Another. Now.”

The sultry growl from Emmrich’s voice near her ear sends Dahlia towards the edge, rolling tightness in her gut finally releasing, shockwaves after shockwaves bolting through her body, hands scraping along the wood of the desk. Emmrich’s relentless thrusts stop for nothing, pushing through the tight walls of her cunt, her fluids leaking down onto the edge of the desk, dripping slowly to the floor between her feet. She fully loses control of her body, mind starting to haze from the pleasure. The last thing she hears is a long moan from Emmrich, the last thing she feels is his seed filling her to the brim, their mixture slowly dripping out of her abused cunt.

“Emmrich… I…” She tries to call out to him, fighting through the fog that hazes her mind, resting her forehead on the desk, letting sore muscles relax, ears twitching from the sound of his voice. It sounds… Concerned? She isn’t too sure, unable to fully form a thought let alone words.

“Dahlia are you- Maker! Darling I’m so sor-”

Again she can’t fully make out anything, her head slowly swaying, not fully ready to give up the bliss that runs through her body and mind. A smile forms on her face as she slips fully into darkness, letting sleep embrace her.

Soft light across the sheets wakes the slumbering woman, lilac grey eyes fluttering open, squinting from the harsh light of the Fade outside the open windows. Dahlia groans softly as she shifts, the feeling of the silk bedding brushing against her skin as she slowly sits up, muscles all through her body feeling sore. Reaching for her glasses on the side table she places them on, blinking a few times as her vision clears. She frowns as she fails to spot Emmrich, before softly calling out to him below, hoping he is nearby.

“Emmrich?”

A scrape of a chair, a set of footsteps and the clinking of something making its way up the winding stairs.

“I’m coming, darling!”

Dahlia smiles softly as Emmrich comes to the top of the stairs, holding a tray of food and a pot of tea, still steaming. She watches him set the tray down, noticing the guilty look on his handsome face as he pours tea into a cup and gently hands it to her alongside a small plate of coconut macarons. Dahlia takes a moment to wet her dry throat, looking from the teacup to Emmrich, who slowly sits on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap. He doesn’t fully look her way, instead at the cup in her hand.

“Emmrich? What’s wrong?”

“I.. Oh, darling I’m terribly sorry for how I acted. I acted like some common brute more than a gentleman.”

He waves his hands around in worry as he tries to explain himself and his actions. All the while she slowly sips her tea, recalling the events with a blush on her cheeks. Looking at the Necromancer as he comes to the end of his ramble, he finally has the courage to look at her with shame in his eyes.

“I am truly sorry, Dahlia. I really should have-”

Dahlia sets the empty cup on the side table, reaching out to hook a finger under the chain that connects to his collar pin. She gently tugs on it to bring him forward and to also shut him up from rambling again. She wraps her arms around his neck, fingers running through the hairs at the nape.

“Emmrich, please stop before you pass out from worry. I’m fine.”

“But I acted like a foolish brute, Dahlia. I-”

“And what if…..I want that common brute again?” She mutters, feeling her cheeks becoming more heated as she looks away from him for a split second then to his eyes, laughing a little at his surprised reaction.

“You- You enjoyed it?” He timidly asks. He lets her pull him more onto the bed, caging her head between forearms, allowing her to pull him into a kiss.

“Very much so.”

Emmrich’s cheeks burn red at her words, a small chuckle bubble from his chest. He hides his face in her neck, kissing the skin gently before answering.

“Well… Maybe I could indulge once in a while, if that's agreeable?”

“Yes, please.”

[fireya-x]

AO3 Link || masterlist

John Price x Reader

As a sniper, you're not exactly known for close-quarters combat.

John Price wants to test your limits, and you both end up pushing each other beyond the point of no return.

[8k+ words]

tw: consensual non-cosent, choking, forced oral sex, power play, consensual violence

You were a bloody good sniper. Close-quarters combat, though? Not officially your speciality. And now, having finally earned your place in 141, Captain Price was determined to assess your strengths up close and personal.

You knew he had a reputation for being brutal during CQC training, pushing recruits to their physical and mental limits, turning them into weapons. But those qualities - resilience, patience, strength - were what had got you here. 

You may not have been built like the hulking soldiers that made up the rest of your team, but you had a quiet lethality that they, and even Price, had come to respect.  

He knew how well you could handle a sniper rifle, but hand-to-hand combat, survival on pure instinct - that was something else entirely. And as his gaze met yours across the mostly empty training gym, you knew he wasn't going to hold back. Neither would you. The board was set, the pieces aligned. It would turn into a game that neither of you intended to lose.

“What’s the safe word, Cap?” You asked, mentally preparing for your fight.

“Safe word?” A recruit on the side overheard your question. “We're not in some kinky club, Barbie.”

You rolled your eyes as the recruit’s words hung in the air. Price’s jaw tightened, those steely blue eyes hardening as he turned toward the sound.

“Oh, boy,” you heard Gaz mutter under his breath as he gathered his bag. Soap, never one to miss a show, grinned like an idiot, only missing his popcorn.

“You,” Price's voice, sharp as a whip crack, thundered through the room. He pointed a finger at the unfortunate trainee. “Get the fuck out of here and stay in your quarters for the next twenty-four hours. If I see you step one foot out of there, you’re going home.”

“Yessss…” Soap hissed, holding his hand out to Ghost expectantly. “Hey, now, I won the bet. Someone made a fucking stupid comment. I called it.”

Without saying a word, Ghost rummaged in his sweater pocket and shoved a few pounds into Soap's outstretched hand. You smiled at the exchange, shaking your head.

“Don’t listen to those losers,” a familiar voice said beside you. You turned to see Gaz, his expression surprisingly serious. “They wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

“I know,” you answered with a wink, “That’s why I'm on your team, after all.”

Gaz grinned. Not many knew that you were already part of their unit, maybe some would shut up if they did. But what kind of entertainment would Soap have then? 

The same went for your relationship with Price. Outside this team, nobody knew. It was better that way – no stupid speculation about preferences or sleeping your way to the top. It was the last thing you needed. Your team knew your worth, and your skills had earned you your place here. The fact that you’d found love with your Captain was just a happy coincidence.

“Good luck with the training. Don't die on me.”

“Never,” you promised, meeting his gaze with a confidence you truly felt.

Gaz patted your shoulder, then slung his bag over his shoulders and moved towards the exit, followed closely by Ghost and Soap, who waved goodbye with the earned money clutched in his hand.

You chuckled. He suddenly turned back, grinning mischievously. “Hey lass, you’re my training partner against these two idiots tomorrow,” he gestured back toward Gaz and Ghost, “make sure you can still… walk.”

Before you could retort, Ghost smacked him upside the back of his head and dragged him along. “Ouch! What -” His voice trailed off as they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned, gathering your hair, twisting it into a tight knot at the base of your skull. You weren't used to fighting like this - no scopes, no distance, just pure, raw instinct. And the awareness made you afraid, somehow, but you wouldn’t let that show. 

When you turned back around, the room was almost completely empty. You eyed John as he uttered a quiet dismissal to the last two recruits, then closed the door after them. It clicked shut with a heavy thud that seemed to seal you both in a world of your own.

"No more stupid comments from anyone," he said, his tone apologetic as he crossed the room towards you. “Sorry, sweetheart –”

“Nonsense. Their words don’t hurt me, John.”

He stopped directly in front of you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body. You could smell the faint scent of gunpowder and soap that clung to his clothes. “Still, they suck.”

Before he could say anything else, before he could even fully register your intent, you swung. Your fist connected with his jaw, a solid blow that would have sent a lesser man reeling. But Price just chuckled, low and dangerous, absorbing the impact with an ease that spoke of years of training, of a body honed for combat. He hadn't even flinched, but you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes.

The game had begun.

Taking advantage of his momentary hesitation, you used the momentum of your swing to pivot, stepping closer, your arm snaking around his neck before he could react.

"I like to be underestimated." You whispered the words against his ear, the scent of him filling your senses as your arms locked in a playful chokehold. It wasn’t a move to subdue, not really. It was a challenge, a tease, a way to show him you wouldn't be easily controlled.

He let you hold him for a heartbeat, but just a heartbeat, before he moved. With a swiftness that defied his size, he spun, reversing your positions so quickly that you barely had time to register the shift before you were trapped, your head locked between his muscular arms.

"Is that so?" His breath was hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. His grip tightened, a reminder that his years of experience outmatched your skills. “I’m not going to hold back from here on out.”

"Good," you choked out, your defiance unwavering despite the way his strength pressed against your vulnerable throat. This close, you could feel the breath of his chuckle against your skin, and the heat of that sound sparked a different kind of fire in your gut.

“Safe word is ‘whiskey’.”

You laughed, a breathless sound, as you pushed against his hold, testing the strength of his grip. “Was just kidding, you know. I don't need one.”

“We'll see about that, sweetheart,” he countered, amusement lacing his voice. “Say it. So I know you understood.”

“‘Whiskey’ is the safe word,” you forced out the words.

“Good girl.”

You pushed your weight down, using all your strength, and stomped on his foot. He grunted, momentarily thrown off balance. But his reaction was quick. He recovered instantly, a smirk playing on his lips. He wasn't surprised; he expected a little bit of fight from you. His grip tightened, the muscles in his arm flexing, and you felt a pulse of pain shoot through your neck.

“So you think you can break free from me, sweetheart?” His voice was low and dangerous, almost a purr against your skin. He enjoyed watching you struggle, pushing your limits.

You shifted your weight, using the pressure of your legs against his thighs to try to force him off-balance. He grunted as he tightened his hold. He was strong, he was prepared, and he knew how to use your own movements against you. 

He tilted his head back, meeting your gaze with a gleam in his eye. "You know, this is a good start," he said, his voice taunting, "But it’s going to take more than that to make me give up."

He continued to use your attempts to push him off balance against you, pulling you closer into his chest, bringing your bodies even tighter. It was a move to dominate, to make you feel powerless. You shifted your body to fight back, driving your knee into his groin.

It was a smart move, but Price had been trained to expect such a tactic. He’d weathered much worse.

With a growl, he drew back his free hand and slammed his fist into your stomach, the impact pushing you backwards. A sharp cry forcing its way out of your lungs, you stumbled back, gasping for air, your vision blurring with pain.

He circled you, his expression hardening.

You rushed forward, not with brute force, but with calculated, quick movements, like a cornered animal fighting for survival. You jabbed with your knee at his stomach, your fist connecting with his jaw, ducking under a blow, landing a kick that sent him reeling backward.

He staggered but was still standing, his face contorted with pain, but his eyes still burning with amusement, with a new sense of respect. "You’re tough," he mumbled, "But not tough enough."

He swiped his leg, catching yours as it lashed out. You lost your balance. You scrambled to regain your footing, adrenaline pumping, but he was faster. He slammed a shoulder into you, a solid wall of muscle that sent you spinning into the wall.

The air exploded from your lungs, pain lancing through your back as you slid to the ground. You fought the urge to simply stay down, to surrender. Instead, gritting your teeth, you planned to roll, using the momentum to try to spring back to your feet.

No chance. He was on you in an instant, his knee a crushing weight on your chest, pinning you to the floor.

You bucked against him, your muscles screaming in protest, but the force of his weight was overwhelming.

His chest heaved as he caught his breath, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. You saw the movement of his hands as they started to reach for his shirt. He yanked it off, flinging it aside with a grunt. For a moment, your struggle was forgotten as your gaze froze on the sight of him: his bare torso, a hard, powerful frame looming over you, the sweat running through the fur on his chest, glistening on his muscles, the veins in his arms bulging without effort.

He moved, leaning closer, and your survival instincts kicked in. You lashed out, your free leg driving up towards him with every ounce of strength you could muster. But he saw the move coming, twisting his body just enough to deflect your kick.

"Feisty," he said, swatting your leg aside as if you were nothing more than an irritating fly. His hand snaked toward you, fingers tangling in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. The move made you cry out, pain lancing through your shoulder.

You knew he had the upper hand. You were defeated. For now.

“I underestimated you,” he conceded, his voice a low rumble just above you. You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the faintest hint of his arousal mixing with the musky scent of sweat. “But I have a lot of ways to even the odds.”

He was going to make you understand, in the most primal way possible, that this wasn’t a sparring match. It was a hunt. And you were the prey.

“Get up then, love.” His command was a rough whisper against your ear. He released your hair, but you knew better than to relax. You were confused. This shift in his tactics was unexpected, almost unnerving. Was he toying with you? Setting a trap? He wasn't done. Not even close.

You pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees, bracing against the burn in your shoulder, every muscle in your body screaming in protest. Pride, defiance and the sheer need to prove yourself to this man drove you to rise. 

But before you even managed to get to your feet, you saw him move, his shadow falling over you just as you registered the intention in his stance.

Before you could fully react, he was behind you. You felt his hand fist in your hair again, but this time, there was no teasing, no playful dominance. It was pure possession.

"Let's see how you handle this," he growled, pulling your ponytail. The force of it nearly tore your scalp from your skull, but the pain was quickly replaced by a wave of dizziness as he shifted his grip on you, dragging you with him as he stood, your legs wobbling as you found your footing. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feel of his arousal pressing insistently into the curve of your ass. Then, just as suddenly as he dragged you up, he shoved you forward.

You stumbled, your knees hitting the hard gym floor with a jarring impact. You tried to catch yourself, but he was already there, his weight pressing you down, pinning you. His thick thighs straddled your back, caging you, his arousal a searing brand against your backside.

You couldn't see him, but you could feel him - a wall of muscle and heat. "You're going to enjoy this, I promise," he whispered. His hands, moving with a practiced ease like this was mere muscle memory, snaked around your wrists, securing them behind your back with a sharp click of zip ties.

You thrashed against his hold, twisting, trying to break free. But he was immovable. Of course, he was playing dirty, you should have expected nothing less.

“Don't waste your energy, love,” he breathed against your ear, his voice rough with amusement. “I like you better this way.”

He pulled back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe. But you still felt his breath, hot and damp, on your neck, his hand racing a path down your spine, making you shudder with both fear and arousal.

“Now, tell me,” he murmured, his voice a dark caress, “What are you going to do?”

You had no answer. He expected one, though. He expected a fight, maybe even a plea for mercy.

But you’d learned a long time ago that the best way to win a battle was to first convince your enemy they already had.

You remained silent, letting your body relax against his. You could practically feel his gaze on you, and you let him see the fear, the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

Let him think he’d broken you already.

He chuckled, a low, predatory sound. You were dancing on the razor’s edge of his control. But that danger, that risk, was exhilarating.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding slowly, possessively, underneath your sports bra. His fingers brushed the underside of your breast, a deliberate touch that sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core. You suppressed a shiver, biting back a moan that would give away the game you were playing.

"Don’t worry, love," he whispered against your ear. He mistook your stillness for surrender. “I’ll take good care of you.”

His fingers tightened on your breast, his thumb grazing your nipple. And then, with a groan that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him, his hand slid further. His fingers, rough and calloused, skimmed the sensitive skin of your stomach, sending a shiver of genuine need through you, threatening to shatter your carefully constructed composure.

His other hand snaked around your throat, the touch almost a tease against the hammering pulse beneath his fingertips. He was moving deliberately, slowly, testing you, savouring every flinch, every gasp of your breath.

You felt the cold press of metal against your back as he undid his belt with the hand that had explored your body. There was no rush. This was a controlled descent into his chaos as his fingers dipped into the waistband of his trousers.

His breath rasped against your skin. “I love seeing you try to fight me.”

“John,” your voice was a breath, barely audible above the frantic drumming of your heart. “The door –”

“Locked,” he cut you off, the single word a reassurance, a command, a confession all rolled into one. He didn't elaborate. He didn’t need to. The knowledge that he'd anticipated this, that he'd planned for it, it made your skin burn hot with need.

Anticipation simmered low in your belly as his pants slipped down, the rough fabric brushing against your skin. A searing wave of shame washed over you, yet a perverse thrill vibrated through your body. It was your submission, your weakness, and the way his gaze swept over you, dark and hungry, made it clear that Price revelled in it. His hand, still resting on your pulse point, tightened ever so slightly, as if mirroring the clenching in your core.

“These fuckin’ recruits,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice rough with a frustration that had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the pressure building inside him, “They never bloody listen.”

His hand around your throat tightened then, pulling your chin up. You gagged against the pressure, your eyes wide and desperate.

With a soft, insistent nudge, his thick cock laid heavy on your forehead. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the velvet-smooth head brushing against your skin.

“They all break so easily. Like fucking twigs.” He said the words as if to himself, a whisper barely audible above the pounding in your heart. “But you don’t, hm, sweet thing?”

The question was a challenge, an invitation, a dare. With one swift movement, he turned your head to face him, his grip on your throat unyielding. You braced yourself, knowing your neck might break if you resisted.

“Answer me.”

“I won’t break,” you spit back, the zip ties around your wrists digging deeper, the pain searing through you. You had to make him believe you were truly his, completely under his control. Just a little longer.

Then, gathering every ounce of strength you could muster, you shoved yourself up, your shoulder screaming in protest as you launched yourself at him.

He fell back with a surprised grunt, your weight landing on his chest, the air knocked from his lungs. You scrambled, your bound wrists a frustrating hindrance, until you found your target. Your fingers wrapped around his hard length behind your back, squeezing, and you heard a strangled groan escape his lips.

“You’re pretty cocky for someone who’s naked and vulnerable, Price.”

He looked at you, his expression a mix of shock and desire. You saw it clearly – the flicker of lust in his eyes, the way his gaze traced the lines of your sweat-soaked body with a hunger that mirrored your own. For a moment, you thought you’d won.

But Price wasn't a man who conceded defeat easily. If, at all.

Your grip around his cock tightened, your thumb deliberately brushing against his sensitive head, the entire chase making you bolder than you should have been. He growled, low in his chest, and with a swift movement, he flipped you over, pinning you beneath him.

Suddenly, you were the one on your back, his weight a crushing you. The pain of your bound wrists made you gasp, but you held on, the feeling of his hard length pressing into your thigh quickly replacing any pain.

“Then let’s even the odds.” He countered, a dark promise.

Before you could even process his words, he tore at your top. The fabric ripped with a harsh, satisfying sound, causing your breasts to spill free. He tore if off of you and tossed it aside.

You waited, biding your time. He leaned down, his mouth closing over your nipple, and the rough scrape of his beard against your skin sent a shiver through your entire body. You let yourself react, letting him think he was in control again, as his hands roamed your exposed skin. This was it. Your chance.

Gathering all your strength, you thrust your knee into his side, the impact jarring you as much as it did him. 

He doubled over, air choked out of his lungs in a gasp, the force of the blow reverberating up through his core. But then, a low laugh rumbled up his chest. “That all you got, love?” he rasped, straightening, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that was almost unnerving. He wasn’t angry. He seemed intrigued. Challenged.

"Try me," you gritted out, pushing yourself back to your feet, ignoring the way blood dripped from your wrists, staining the floorboards crimson. You were on him again before he could fully recover, fury giving you strength, your every movement fuelled by the weeks of pent-up frustration - having to prove yourself, again and again, to men who saw you as a delicate little thing. 

He caught your next blow with a grunt, blocking your punch, but the surprise had given you an advantage. You pressed forward, forcing him to step back.

He knew the game. He was the master of the board. But his queen? She wasn't playing by his rules anymore. Strength, determination, lust - they would be her weapons that he'd unwittingly unleashed.

You weren’t breaking. Not yet. He caught you in a headlock, his arm squeezing your throat, cutting off your air, again. “You know the word,” he reminded you, his voice smooth, vibrating against your skin. His grip tightened, the pressure unrelenting, as he yanked on your ponytail, pulling you closer, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Go fuck yourself," you spat, but the words came out as a strangled rasp.

He laughed, a low, cruel sound that did not prepare you for his next move. He didn't hesitate. His hand shoved into your pants, the sudden coolness of his fingers against your heated core a jarring shock. You arched, trying to pull away, but he held you fast.

"Look at that," he said, his voice a mockery against your ear, "Getting wet fighting me. You like this, yeah?"

For a fleeting moment, this scene could have been sweet and sensual. His fingers soft and sweet, his lips brushing your throat - but no. 

His touch turned brutal. He shoved your legs apart, tore your training shorts and panties down with a sharp rip that echoed through the silent gym. They landed in a crumpled heap beside your discarded top. He pushed you back down, one hand in your hair, yanking back your head, exposing the vulnerable curve of your throat. He forced you to meet his gaze, his cock a hard, insistence presence against your face.

“You use teeth and I won’t let you come.” He threatened. You couldn't even try to resist. He thrust deep inside your mouth, his moans echoing through the gym. The feeling was a searing fire in your throat, the taste of him both foreign and familiar.

He tasted of salt and sweat and something else, something dangerous. It was a taste that would linger on your tongue, a reminder of your humiliation.

You wanted to pull away, to gag, to spit him out, but his hand held you captive. He set the pace, his hips moving against your face with a brutal, unyielding rhythm. You were trapped, a pawn in his game, his pleasure your punishment.

His hips stuttered, his breath hitching in his throat. He pulled back abruptly, his cock slapping against your cheek. He stared down at you. His eyes, narrowed with a fierce hunger, locked on yours. 

Then, without warning, he thrust back into your mouth, deeper, more forceful. It was a silent demand, an unspoken order to take him all, to swallow your pride along with every inch of his cock. A tear, a traitorous bead of salt, escaped the corner of your eye, tracing a path down your cheek, only to be lost in the sheen of sweat that coated your skin. He held you there, forcing you to choke until your spit was running down his balls.

"You know the word," he taunted, his voice a low growl.

Your lungs burned, and the tears stung your eyes. But you would not speak that word, not while the fire burned within you, and he was the one holding the match.

The taste of him, the pressure in your throat, the brutal way he held your head — it was all-consuming, and your body began to betray you. The heat rose, tremors of unwanted pleasure rippled through your core. But you would not give him the satisfaction of breaking you.

"I can see you like it, love" he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I like that you’re fighting back, but you know I'm not going to let you escape."

He tilted his head, watching you with a predatory gaze. His thumb stroked the back of your neck, a teasing, insistent pressure. You held his stare, meeting it with a challenge and an intensity that unsettled him. He expected desperation, submission. But what he saw in your eyes was a calculated calm.

"You're making this too easy," he muttered, pressing his weight more fully into you. You could feel his arousal pulsing, hard and insistent, in your mouth. He was close. And that was your advantage.

You were not the damsel in distress; you were the wolf at the door, waiting for him to let you in.

The next move on the board was yours.

You shifted, subtly bringing his length up against the roof of your mouth, a delicate pressure that almost made him fall apart. He pressed closer, expecting your submission. He gasped, clearly lost in pleasure, awaiting a moment of bliss, unaware that you had already begun to enact your plan. As he did, you began to turn your head slowly, ever so subtly.

He felt it. The pressure of your teeth against his flesh.

With a sharp hiss, Price pulled back, his hand involuntarily clawing at your hair, pulling your head away. This moment of distraction, of pain, gave you the brief opportunity you needed.

You shoved against his chest, using the momentum of his withdrawal to propel yourself sideways, twisting out of his grip just as his other hand lashed out to grab you. You hit the floor hard, scrambling, every muscle in your body screaming. Adrenaline surged through you, throwing you to your feet as you ripped at the zip ties binding your wrists, the cheap plastic cutting into your skin.

Price stumbled back, clutching himself, his face contorted in pain. "You bitch!" he roared, his voice raw, the anger in his eyes blazing. But beneath the fury, you saw a flash of something else. Respect. Acknowledgement that he’d underestimated you.

“Surprised?” you asked, your voice a low purr, your chest heaving. “I told you to try me.”

He straightened, his gaze shifting from rage to something closer to fascination. You’d got to him. Riled him up. It was more than just a physical reaction. It was the shock of encountering someone who dared to push back, to challenge him on his own terms.

“That was a good move, sweetheart,” he admitted. He was already recovering, his hand slowly starting to fist his hard length as his eyes moved over you, tracing the curve of your sweat-slicked breasts and the tense lines of your muscles. He stepped closer, and you instinctively braced yourself. He wasn’t done with you, not by a long shot.

“I want to see what you’ve got, John,” you said, meeting his gaze with a dangerous smile, every muscle in your body humming.

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. And then, in a blink, he had you. His fingers dug into your biceps, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the musky scent of his arousal. His hands slid down your arms, tracing a path over your bare skin, the warmth of his touch electrifying against the cool air of the gym.

He leaned in, his chest brushing against yours, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, his fingers splaying over your skin. You inhaled sharply, the sound caught somewhere between a gasp and a growl, as he dipped his head, his lips ghosting against your ear. "I'll show you," he whispered.

He tilted his head as if to claim your lips, but you jerked your head back, a smirk playing across your face.

He growled in response, frustrated. And at that moment, the game shifted once more.

You lashed out, your knee driving into his side with a sharp, controlled thrust. The impact jolted through your leg, but you’d hit your mark. He staggered back, a surprised grunt escaping his lips. It wasn't enough to take him down, but it was enough. You’d seen the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, felt the momentary shift in his balance.

He stumbled back, and in that fleeting moment, something shifted in his gaze. You were no longer just the target of his desires. He saw you as a threat now. And that knowledge, that dangerous recognition of your strength, was more intoxicating than any kiss.

Fury replaced the emotion in his eyes. He lunged, grabbing your arm and twisting you, using your own momentum against you. You gasped as he shoved you back against the wall, his body a solid wall of heat that caged you in.

His hands gripped your upper arms, his face inches from yours. “You think you can –”

He never got to finish that sentence. You weren’t about to let him.

You pushed off the wall and shoved him back, your body moved on pure instinct and defiance. You heard the plastic of the zip ties rip, a sound of victory that echoed through the gym as you tore free, your raw wrists stinging.

Price stumbled, caught off guard by your ferocity. For a heartbeat, you just stared at each other, chests heaving. 

You found yourself standing before him, his eyes burning into you. You met his gaze, your chest heaving with exertion. Your bare breasts were slick with sweat, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. You knew you were a good shot, but this? He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t anticipated your relentless spirit. It intrigued him. It aroused him.

The only sounds in the vast emptiness of the gym were the rasp of his breath, the thud of your heart against your ribs, and the soft squeak of your sneakers as you shifted your weight, preparing for your next move. You were both waiting, predators circling.

He lunged first, a powerful, controlled strike, but you were ready. You ducked his fist, using your smaller frame to your advantage. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a rough embrace, your breasts pressing against the hard wall of his chest. It was a challenge, a provocation, a declaration of war.

He tried to throw you off, his strength a force you couldn’t deny, but you held on, twisting, shifting your weight, using his momentum against him. He grunted, surprised by your tenacity, the way your body moved with his, a perfect counterpoint to his every attack.

Your hand cupped the back of his neck, fingers digging into the tense muscles. You could feel the hard, insistent pressure of his erection against your hip, a living reminder of the desire simmering beneath this brutal dance. He was so used to being in control. And you, you were going to enjoy stripping him of it.

You kept going, moving with feral grace. You felt the blood pumping in your veins, giving you enough strength to press yourself against him, your hands digging into his shoulders, your leg forcing him off balance as he attempted to throw you. The rhythm of your body moved with his, and as the struggle continued, your grip tightened around his neck, a choking sensation that made him gasp.

You could feel him hesitate, a low curse escaped his lips, and a thrill of victory shot through you.

You were winning.

But Price, he was a storm that never truly died. He recovered with a speed that made your head spin. One powerful shove, and you were slammed back against the wall, his body caging you from behind. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer, until you could feel his arousal, hot and hard, pressed against your back. You were trapped.

But even as you braced yourself for his next attack, you noticed that he hesitated. He was confused. You’d broken through his carefully constructed control more than once, and the fire in your gaze – the same relentless hunger that burned inside him - both startled and intrigued him.

He was ready to break you, yes. But now he also wanted to possess, to consume, to make you his. 

But one thing he didn’t know; he wasn’t going to take you, you were going to claim yourself, and claim him.

Your legs shifted, finding their way into position, and as his hands ran across your hip bones, a low grunt escaped your throat, feral, triumphant. You moved before he could realize what you were about to do. Your hips rolled, grinding against his hardness, and the sound that ripped from his throat was pure, primal need.

Then, with a surge of strength that seemed to come from somewhere beyond you, you pushed off the wall, impaling yourself on him in one swift, deliberate motion. His hand, which had been poised to grip your hip, fisted in your hair instead, the intent to shove you away morphing into a desperate anchor.

He was the one trapped now, his control shattered by your bold advance.

“What are you doing to me?” he rasped, his voice raw, edged with a need he couldn't quite comprehend.

“Taking what I want,” you breathed back.

You set the pace, rolling your hips against him, savouring the feeling of him filling you, stretching you. The air thickened, heavy with the sounds of your ragged breaths mingling, of his grunts, and the slick, wet sounds of your bodies moving together

His head dipped, his lips finding the curve of your neck, his beard tickling your skin, his teeth grazing your flesh, sending a shiver through your body. There was nothing gentle, nothing romantic about his touch. It was all raw need and hunger. But even as you felt his restraint fraying, his every ragged breath a testament to the control you’d wrestled from him, you knew this game was far from over.

The wall was a cold, hard presence against your breasts, each thrust pushing you harder into its unyielding surface. His groan, a low rumble that seemed to reverberate through the very wall itself, was all the confirmation you needed – at that moment, he was yours.

But Price wasn't a man to be owned.

With a sudden, almost violent movement, he swung you around, his fingers digging into the backs of your thighs. He tugged, lifting you off the ground as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word ragged, his voice rough with something more primal than you'd ever heard from him before.

He didn't wait for any reaction. He slammed into you, filling you completely. A cry tore from your throat, not pain, but something wilder, something that bordered on agony and ecstasy all at once. The wall bit into your back, a solid, cold counterpoint to the searing heat of him filling you, stretching you, making you his.

You'd been with men before. You weren't a stranger to the act, to the pleasure, to the raw, physicality of it all. But Price, he was different. His thickness was an overwhelming, mind-numbing pleasure that stole the coherent thought from your brain.

You met his thrusts with a ferocity that surprised even you, your hips rocking against him despite the throbbing ache in your shoulder. His hands roamed, gripping, guiding, dictating the pace of your surrender.

Only that this wasn’t about dominance or control anymore. It was about two forces colliding, not to break each other, but to merge. The pressure was building, a slow burn that threatened to consume you both.

He slammed into you again and again, driving you both deeper into the heart of the storm you’d created. Every thrust was a declaration, a challenge, push and pull.

You felt your cunt clenching around him, milking him with every frantic movement. Your juices, already slick and abundant, mixed with the sweat that coated both your bodies, turning the encounter into a slick, messy, gloriously unhinged frenzy.

His breath hitched, a name – your name - a broken plea escaping his lips. The sound went straight through you, echoing the fierce thrumming between your legs. You met his next thrust with an answering move of your own hips. 

And then you felt it: the moment he was about to shatter. The muscles in his arms tensed, the wildness in his gaze, he was a heartbeat away from losing himself.

It was intoxicating. Terrifying.

He pulled back abruptly, his length withdrawing from your cunt, leaving you achingly empty, your body convulsed, demanding the friction, the fullness, him.

You cried out, a strangled sound of frustration, and before you could react, his hand shot up, his fingers circling your throat, cutting off your air. Your eyes flew open, widening in shock. The pressure wasn’t enough to hurt, not yet, but enough to remind you: he was in control. He always had been.

“Thought you could get away with that, did you?” he rasped, his words distorted by the press of his palm against your windpipe.

You first didn’t know what he meant, but then his breath was hot next to your ear. "Forgot about biting me, did you, sweetheart?"

You tried to shake your head, to deny, to plead, but he only tightened his grip, the smirk on his lips a cruel mockery of the smile you knew so well.

His other hand dug into your hip, pulling you hard against him, forcing your lower body to grind against his erection. The denial was exquisite torture, your own desire twisting into a desperate ache. You could feel his heart pounding against his chest, the ragged rasp of his breaths against your skin.

He shifted, angling his hips, dragging his cock across your sensitive clit, sending a whimper escaping your lips. You couldn't help it – the need was a living thing, twisting inside you. He growled out a laugh, a dark, rumbling sound, his grip tightening further, punishing you for your involuntary betrayal.

"Look at that," he murmured, bending his head, so his breath ghosted against your cheek, "So needy for me when I haven't even given you permission to breathe properly."

Even with his grip on your throat, a thrill shot through you, a mix of fear and the forbidden pleasure of being so utterly at his mercy.

His words were meant to shame you, to punish you. But all you could see was the way the muscle in his jaw jumped, the way his pulse hammered visibly in his throat. He was as lost as you were.

He couldn't even breathe properly himself.

His hips suddenly, without warning, hit against yours again, shoving his cock as deep as it could reach. He thrust deeper, harder, more desperate. The rhythm was chaotic, uncontrolled. He was so close, his control cracking like thin ice under a relentless sun. He was too far gone to keep his threat up, too consumed by the need for release that he no longer cared about the punishment he was supposed to enact.

You moaned, as loud as the hand around your throat allowed you to.

"Fuck," he breathed, his restraint clearly fracturing. “You're making this impossible.”

Impossible for him. He wanted to punish you. He wanted to break you. But his own body was betraying him, his desire a fire burning out of control.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Don't you dare move," he commanded, but his voice was distorted, almost making it sound like a plea, as if seeking solace from the very person he was supposed to defeat.

You held your breath, stopped moving your hips. But even as the words left his mouth, his hips betrayed him. The rhythm faltered, and his eyes clenched shut, his face contorted in a grimace of pure, raw need.

His chest heaved, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The hand on your throat was a present reminder of his lingering control, but you could feel the tremor in his fingers, they deceived him, giving away the battle he was fighting within.

Then, with a suddenness that took you by surprise, he pulled you even closer. His head burrowed into the curve of your neck, his body pressing into yours, seeking not just physical closeness but a desperate anchor. But his hand remained at your throat, his fingers tightening involuntarily as a wave of tremors shook his body.

"Whiskey," he rasped, against your throat, barely audible.

Your head snapped back, surprise broke through the haze of pleasure. That was the safe word. You should be pulling away, putting distance between you, as per the rules. His rules.

But he didn't stop. He didn't hesitate. He just kept moving, his hips a relentless rhythm against yours, his control, always so absolute, fracturing into something raw and uncontained. 

And as he drove into you again, harder, deeper, you understood.

This wasn't about surrender. 

This was about letting go. 

About relinquishing the need for control entirely, about meeting in that space where there were no rules, no winners or losers, just the overwhelming, desperate need to feel everything, together. 

The board lay between you, silent, its pieces scattered, black and white indistinguishable.

And then it hit - a shattering, breathtaking release that obliterated everything but the feeling of him, in you, his name a whimper on your lips as you clung to him, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders.

Waves of pleasure, each one more potent than the last, crashed over you, stealing your breath, blurring the line between pain and ecstasy until you were left gasping, clinging to him as if the touch alone was the only thing to keep you alive.

He was gone, lost in the same tempest that had swept you away, and you felt it - the exact moment his control snapped, his carefully constructed walls crumbling as the storm consumed him entirely. A low groan, primal and unrestrained, rumbled up from his chest, vibrating against you. His head fell forward, and you felt his release – not a gentle wave, but a force as primal and untamed as the man himself. A king stripped of his crown. Unthroned, meeting his queen on equal ground.

His hand left your throat, joining the other one on your hip. You held your breath, a silent witness to his fall. His body shuddered violently, a tremor that rippled from his clenched jaw all the way down to his powerful thighs, pressing you even harder against the wall. 

The aftershocks seemed to reverberate between you for endless seconds - the slick sound of your bodies still joined, the whisper of his ragged breaths against your ear. His forehead rested against the wall just beside yours. Neither of you moved. 

Finally, you let out a shaky laugh, the sound rough against the silence of the gym. "What was that? Someone piss in your cereal this morning, Captain?"

A slow smile spread across his face as he moved his head back to look at you. That rare, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made you forget he was a hardened soldier capable of such ruthlessness.

“You, love,” he said, exhaling sharply. “You did this to me.”

And then he was laughing, a vibration against your chest that resonated through you, chasing away the tension and leaving a warm, delicious ache in its wake. It was the Price you knew, the one you loved - the playful glint beneath the steel, the man who relished a challenge as much as he craved control.

He'd gone looking for a fight, maybe even a release. He’d expected a pawn. Instead, he found a queen capable of checkmating a king. 

And in his eyes, still hazy with desire but now reflecting respect, you knew you’d surprised him. He no longer saw you as an opponent to be conquered. You were an equal, a player on the board just as skilled and cunning as he was. The crown had fallen, not just from his head, but from yours as well. He’d taken it from you, not through force, but by the intensity of your shared need. And you offered it willingly, so you could fall together.

The silence stretched, no longer tense, but filled with the warm, drowsy afterglow of shared release. It was Price who broke contact first, albeit reluctantly, a soft groan escaping him as he shifted, his weight no longer pressing you into the wall.

He set you on the ground gently, and your hands instinctively reached for the raw feeling around your wrists, a physical reminder of the power play he’d orchestrated.

“You alright?” His voice, hushed and filled with concern, was a stark contrast to the primal growls that had filled the gym moments before. He turned to face you, his movement hesitant, his gaze lingering on the red welts and dried blood marking your wrists.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathed. “Did I hurt you too much?”

Sensing his distress, you caught his hand, bringing his calloused fingers to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. “Hey,” you murmured, meeting his gaze, “I’m good. More than good.” 

“Bloody hell,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over you, and then landing on the remnants of your clothes with a grimace. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over the bruised skin of your wrists. “I'm so sorry, love. I got carried away.”

He averted his gaze, a blush creeping up his neck, something so endearingly awkward in the usually stoic Captain that it made your heart melt. “I’ll - uh - I'll buy you new clothes. First thing tomorrow, promise.”

You lifted your hand towards his face, your thumb tracing his beard along his cheek, a silent reassurance. “Don’t worry about it, John. It’s just fabric.”

“It’s not just fabric,” he insisted. He grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and held it out to you, his gaze lingering on your face as you pulled it over your head, the soft cotton enveloping you in his scent.

“Feels good, to be honest,” you admitted, enjoying the way the shirt swallowed you whole. “To prove those idiots wrong. They think a sniper’s just fragile. That all we can do is hide in the shadows.” You paused, watching as he straightened, fumbling slightly with the button of his trousers, a rare show of clumsiness that made him seem all the more human. Your gaze lingered for a beat longer than necessary before you met his eyes. “They forget that shadows can move. They can be weapons, too.”

He laughed, stepping closer, his hands resting hesitantly on your hips. “Guess I learned a lesson today.” His gaze wandered down your body, and his cheeks flushed as he realized you weren’t wearing any shorts. "I, uh- Give me a minute."

He disappeared into the locker room, returning moments later with a clean towel, some gym shorts, and a first-aid kit. He knelt before you, his touch surprisingly gentle as he nudged your legs apart, wiping between them with the towel. His gaze was averted, a hint of awkwardness in his usually confident demeanour, but you couldn't help but appreciate the care he was taking.

He then reached for the black gym shorts and held them out for you. “Found these in my locker.”

“Thank you.” You stepped into the shorts, his hands lingering on your waist as he pulled them up for you.

As you pulled the waistband into place, he carefully took your wrists, his touch featherlight as he cleaned the wounds with antiseptic. You watched, captivated, as he gently wrapped a bandage around each wrist, his brow furrowed in concentration. His touch was so gentle, you’d never believed those hands had inflicted the wounds in the first place.

“So, tell me,” you asked, tilting your head as he stood up and straightened his back, a playful challenge returning to your voice, “Do all your training sessions go this sideways?”

“Only when you’re the opponent,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over the bruise forming on your throat, a look of genuine regret in his eyes. "Didn't mean to mark you up so bad, love."

“Just adding a little colour to my life, Captain.” You watched him, studying his face, the way his brow furrowed in concern, the gentle touch of his hand on your skin. It was a side of John Price very few ever saw, a side you'd always cherished. “What happened back there, it was kind of hot.” You winked. “Good training for the field, right?” You laughed before even finishing your thought. “You never know when we'll need to take down an enemy with creative tactics.”

He laughed, a deep sound that filled the gym, and leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. 

You tilted your head slightly. “Is it that bad? Guess I’ll be rocking a turtleneck for a while, hm?” 

His frowned, and he leaned to the side to press a soft kiss against the forming bruise on your neck. “I'll try to be more gentle next time, love,” he murmured against your skin, his voice heavy with regret. 

You sensed the guilt in his words and softly framed his face with your hands, your fingers threading through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, holding his gaze. “What if I don’t want you to be?”

“You're a menace,” he murmured, leaning close, his voice warm against your lips.

And then, finally, he kissed you.

It wasn't a rough, demanding kiss. It was slow, tender, a tasting and a cherishing that spoke of something far deeper than the lust and aggression that had been unleashed moments before. You melted against him, your arms circling his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

He tasted like whiskey and gunpowder and everything you’d ever craved. He was strength and tenderness, control and surrender, a perfect storm of contradictions.

And you were utterly, hopelessly, in love with him.

[mamayan]

hi can we get part 2 of ( RUN BUT DON’T HIDE ) toji fic

like what happens the next day, would he be a little nicer

Short answer Nonnie… yes but probably not how you think—

Yandere Toji Fushiguro x Fem! Darling

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Established Relationship • Dubcon • Cock warming • Praise/Degradation • Fluff/Comfort (sort of) • Somnophilia • Begging• Denial

Run Don’t Hide (Yan! Toji x Fem! Darling)

“Mmmm…”

You awoke to noisy slurping and a burning in your lower belly.

“Ya up, baby?” His deep timber murmuring right up against your heat had you dizzily lifting up for a better view.

His hulking frame had your thighs spread as wide as possible, fitting himself awkwardly between while keeping you open with two hands palming into the flesh of your thigh. His tongue languidly lapping at your clit, scar pulled taunt with his mischievous grin. “Thought the first orgasm would’a woke ya, but this slutty cunt is used to coming on my tongue it seems.” His dark eyes held nothing but wicked intentions, even as you whined for mercy and attempted to push at his head to remove him from your sore pussy.

“Toji please… it hurts,” he scoffs at your pathetic plea, and you’re rewarded with a sharp nip to your inner thigh that leaves a trail of blood from his canine puncturing the delicate skin. He ignores your yelp and struggle, only hushing you like one might a petulant child.

“It hurts, yeah? Then I won’t make you cum anymore sweetheart, wouldn’t want you hurting.” Despite his ominous tone, you’re relieved to be given rest today at least, sagging back into the bed where you’d once been tense. Your relief must’ve been to palpable as he chuckles and moves over you, your eyes watching him with confusion as he grips your hips and switches your positions.

Now you’re laid across the hard lines of his muscular chest, tense again as you feel his hot leaking tip kiss your entrance.

“…T-Toji…”

“Don’t look so nervous. I said I wouldn’t make ya cum anymore.” Then he’s pushing into your poor sore cunt, stretching the muscles still healing from their last round of vigorous exercise while you cry and writhe against his chest. He’s got you locked down with an arm around your waist though, and soon he’s bottoming out in your spasming tight pussy.

“Fuck, so tight,” he growls, hands moving to grip the soft globes of your ass and wiggle your hips on his meaty rod nestled in your warmth. “Alright baby, hard part over. Relax for me,” he murmurs, and you’re shocked when he stays completely still, hand moving up to pet and stroke your hair and naked skin of your back.

He’s making you cock warm him.

It’s… pleasant. Not as terrible as you first presumed, and you truly do begin to relax as he does, his chest becoming less angular and softer as he lets his muscles go lax. The even gentle petting making you sleepy, and soon the sting fades and you’re back to a drowsy even breathing.

He keeps you like that for what seems like forever. Only occasionally shifting and thrusting up into you, but it doesn’t hurt, no it felt good. The slow and gentle roll of his powerful hips, the way his thick fingers lightly dug into your muscles and relaxed you further, and the building heat in your leaking core that craved release.

Toji for all he was, and he was not a good man, kept his word.

Even when you slowly unraveled into a pathetic mess who couldn’t keep your hips still, he kept his word. Hands now gripping you tightly and holding you still, hushing you like a child and chuckling when you became infuriated.

“Fuck, please, Toji—,” he loves the way your eyes roll back into your skull when he lazily surprises you with a thrust against your cervix, halting your blubbering whines as you choke on your words in favor of moaning.

“Shh, I wouldn’t want to hurt you, sweetheart. Stay nice and still for me, or I’ll think you were lying earlier.” He’d already stirred you up though, to the point where you wanted a little pain to ease the ache drowning you right now. His balls hung heavy and soaked from your slick, little mouth swallowing his thick cock into it’s snug walls. Your forced to lay flat on his chest with him tucked away deep inside you, your clit pressed tight against his pubic hair and groin, so every little wiggle you managed to sneak past his iron hold only severed to rile you up further.

“I-I need to cum, please, it doesn’t hurt now—,”

“Oh? So you lied to me? Is that right?”

“I-It hurt earlier but now—,” he’d backed you into a corner, and while amusement painted his handsome features, his eyes were dark and predatory on you.

“Doesn’t sound like it hurt much then.”

Then you’re on your back, his wide frame boxing you in and pinning you down while he pretends to contemplate.

“I wonder how I should punish you for lying…”

“Toji, I didn’t—!”

“Since you said it hurt…” He’s pressing down against your womb, big hand warm and adding pressure until you feel him buried inside you from the front. No amount of begging or pleading will make him stop. He edges and teases you until tears fall and even then, he’s only licking them up and fucking you close to your climax before stopping once again.

He doesn’t want it to hurt after all.

Dividers/@cafekitsune