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#TW: Dubious Consent
diejager · 4 months
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Stepdad!König taking a call from your mother while she’s at work - and while he’s brutalizing your sweet pussy in your room, his hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speaks to your mother over the phone like normal 😊
Phone cw: p in v, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, smut, rough sex, creampie, exhibitionism?, tell me if I missed any.
Your heart jumped out of you chest when his phone rang, you panicked, but König looked unbothered, reaching over to pick it up as he kept up his pace, driving his hips forward roughly and ruthlessly. He chuckled lowly, showing you the caller: your mother. Your breath hitched, teary eyes widening and mouth agape with drool rolling down the corner of your lips, you struggled against him, begging for him to ignore the call or to stop if he wanted to answer it.
“You can keep quiet, can’t you, Schatz?”
“No no- please-!”
His hand came down on your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers, pleading for him to adhere to common sense. Despite your cries, he answered the phone, clicking on speaker - to antagonize you - and your mother’s voice rang out in the room. He greeted her with a normal hi, his tone calm even through the strenuous session, rocking into you, his thick girth and throbbing cock milking your cunt of the load he left this morning after she left.
“I’m sorry for calling so suddenly, hun,” she sounded tired, spending the day working until 7pm.
“It’s okay,” König hummed, placing the phone down beside your head, beside your covered mouth and tear-streaked cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll be home later than usually,” she sighed, oblivious to your muffled whines. “I’m going to swing by that Italian place, do you want anything?”
Unlike your choked mewls and breathless keens, your stepdad was still, chest puffing up and pressing down on you, shifting your legs over his shoulders as he drove himself deeper. He was rough, thrusts hard and words degrading, cooing in your ear harsh, degrading names. Telling you what a slut you were for you stepdad, how you were a bitch for whoring around him and Horangi in skimpy shorts and baggy shirts, and how your sweet pussy was so wet and loud for him.
“Could you ask (Name) about supper?”
“Give me a second, ja?”
He flashed you a mean grin, putting the call on mute for better acting, playing the scene of him walking towards your room or where ever you were. His hand moved down to your neck, giving you a hard grip and holding you down, folding you in half, knees bent to your shoulders and feet jerking over his head. Seeming satisfied with his manhandling, the wet slaps of his hips hitting your thighs louder and the head of his cock ramming your spongy cervix, he picked up the phone, unmuting it and pressing it to your ear.
“Dear?”
“H-hi mom-” you gasped, the heavy curve of his cock and the bulging veins rubbing your back wall, you spasmed around him, teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip.
“You remember that Italian place we went last week?”
“Ye-ah-yeah.”
She paused, her silence ringing louder than every slap that made your stomach bulge. You feared that she heard your slip up, the high-pitched mewl and pants you let out; you feared that crooked grin on his scarred lips and that proud and scheming gleam in his eyes. He changed his fast and rough pace for a deep and precise one, repeatedly aiming for that spot that made your eyes roll and back arch, finger thumbing your engorged clit.
“Are you okay?” You hated the worried tone mixed with that exhaustion, it picked at your heart.
“Yes-!” It came out harsher than you intended, pearly tears slipping from your squinted eyes.
König’s manhandling and pointed hits made your walls clench around him, the coil in your navel tightening to a delirious amount, making your head spin and mind dumb.
“Okay… Do you want anything for tonight?”
“Ro-rosé, please.”
“All right, I’ll see you tonight then.”
Any later and she would have heard you scream your mind off, you let moans roll off your tongue without restraint, nails digging into his back and back arched upward. He lowered your legs to his elbows, opening your legs to watch you come, your cunt swallowing him to the base, pumping in and then back out with a white ring around is cock from your shared pleasure. He made a sound of satisfaction, hands wandering down to grip your hips, riding out his pleasure leisurely and yours a fiery white blaze that burned through your body.
“You heard her, ja? Looks like we have more time to play.”
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973
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tallulah477 · 5 months
Text
Hunting the Tawtute
Kinktober Day 19: Threesome
Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader x Lo’ak
Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, AgedUp!Lo’ak, Dark!Neteyam, Dark!Lo’ak, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Primal Kink (Hunter/Prey Kink), Oral (female receiving and male receiving), P in V, Fingering, Handjob, Breath Play, Dirty Talk, Size Difference, Belly Bulge, Alien Genitalia, Slight Knife Play, Multiple Orgasms, Bukkake, Hair Pulling, Slight Humiliation, Slight Thigh Riding, Knots/Knot Play (but no actual knotting), Marking Kink/Biting
Word Count: 5.4K (of pure self-indulgent fantasy)
A/N: I don’t even know what to say about this. This one kinda like so fucking much got away from me. It’s like I went crazy, blacked out, and this happened. Hopefully some of you guys will like it too as much as I liked writing it.
Summary: When the Omatikaya raid an RDA outpost, you just barely escape the carnage with your life. You're stumbling through the forest when they find you, and the dark grins on their faces make shivers run down your spine. You try to run, but they’ll catch you - they’re little beautiful prey. 
Extra: Pretty, But Not Stupid
**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**
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Translations:
Tawtute -  Human
Mountain Banshee - Large, dragon-like aerial predators
Sevin - Pretty
Vrrtep - Demon
Paskalin - Sweet Berry (term of endearment)
The ground is shaking underneath you as you run, booming with the force of the explosions and gunfire racking the now nonexistent RDA outpost. You can still hear the screaming, both war cries and cries of terror, echoing through the forest as your tired legs carry you further and further away. 
You’re gasping for breath, heart feeling like it's going to pound out of your chest as you sob. You hated the RDA, they were mostly all power hungry assholes anyway, but some people in the outpost were good - innocent people who fled Earth just to get away from the horror there, only to be met with a fate possibly crueler here. All the cooks, cleaners, and medical professionals who just wanted a chance - all dead within minutes of the start of the emergency alarm that blared through the base. If not by the explosions, then currently being picked off without mercy by the Na’vi. 
You’re lucky to even be alive right now. 
You shake your head, trying to ignore how your heavy, panicked breathing is fogging up your mask and how you can barely see through your tears. You need to keep going. You can’t think about it now. Can’t think about the carnage you're running from and the people you’re leaving behind. You need to find safety. 
You run a little further, trying not to trip on any more upturned roots. You fell over one a little ways back, and your ankle protests the more weight you put on it, but the fear of being found and killed keeps you going. You quickly round another tree and stop, bracing your hand on the bark of the massive trunk and lifting your hurt ankle up a bit just to relieve the pressure for a moment. Your eyes hurriedly scan the area, trying to keep an eye out for danger you wouldn’t even be able to defend yourself against. Even if you did have some kind of a weapon (which you don’t, you barely had enough time to sprint away with your life as it was, let alone grab any kind of form of defense), you wouldn’t be able to win against the strength and prowess of one of the natives anyway.
A sharp gasp leaves your lips when your eye catches movement a few trees down from you. There’s a male Na’vi standing there, long braids still swinging around his shoulders from his abrupt movement, and he has an arrow notched and pulled back, strong muscles and chest bulging behind the bow as he steadies the arrow - the arrow that’s pointed directly at you. 
“Wait!” You yell, hands instinctively coming up to protect your face as if they could ever stop the Na’vi sized arrow. “Wait! Please, don’t shoot!”
The male stops, curious amber eyes locked on your trembling figure, and to your complete shock, he lowers the arrow. Why isn’t he killing you? The Na’vi kill humans on sight, they don’t hesitate. You should have been dead the second he saw you. But you’re not. He lowered his arrow, and for a brief moment relief and hope flood your chest. 
“I mean you no harm,” You call, voice shaking. “Please, don’t k-kill me,”
The male tilts his head at you and you watch cautiously as he puts his bow away, reattaching it to his back, before reaching up to touch his throat. From this distance you can just see the outline of a necklace. A throat comm, you think. He has his fingers pressed against the buttons and you can’t hear what he’s saying, but you see his lips moving as he talks to whoever is on the other line. 
A dark smirk curls at his lips as he speaks. He’s looking directly at you and whatever hope you had disappears as dread fills your entire being. 
You are going to die. 
You can’t stay here, staying still even as he’s watching you is a risk. If you’re going to die, you’re at least going to go down trying to live. 
You turn to run, making it just a few steps away from the tree before the canopy bursts above you, a roaring shriek piercing your ears as a large blue and purple mountain banshee descends down towards the forest floor. You scream, falling back on your ass as the dragon-like animal lands just feet from you, the wind from its strong wings beating over your body and making your hair whip around your face.
The banshee’s rider descends from its back, landing on the ground with a thud and disconnecting his neural queue from the animal. He stalks towards you, golden eyes gleaming behind a few loose braids falling in front of them, and he grins, long pointed canines biting into his bottom lip.
“Where you running to, sevin tawtute?”
With another terrified sob, you scramble to your feet. The second Na’vi’s low chuckle, despite being fairly quiet, rings loudly in your ears, and you can hear the footsteps of the first’s getting closer and closer to you each second. 
“Don’t do it,” The second warns, and you don’t even have the mental capacity to realize that he’s speaking to you in English. You’re already spinning and darting away in the opposite direction. 
You run as fast as you can through the dense Pandorian forest. They’re chasing you, you can hear their footsteps pounding against the forest floor behind you. They mock you, first just making quick yipping and whooping calls, communicating with each other in a way you would never even begin to understand. And then they switch to your language.
“Better run faster, human!”
“Getting tired already, baby?”
“Can you feel my breath on the back of your pretty neck?”
“We’re going to get you!”
Your sobs get louder, terrified as you try to push yourself harder. They sound so close, like they’re right behind you, like they could just reach out and grab you. But they don’t. They’re playing with you. They’re faster than you, their legs significantly longer than yours and more adept at running and navigating the forest terrain. They’re letting you keep going on purpose, finding glee in your terror and enjoyment in chasing their prey. 
Your ankle is aching, pain shooting from the twisted limb, and your running is quickly turning into panicked hobbling. You can’t do it anymore. Can’t do it - they’re going to get you. Without thinking, you dive under a slightly uprooted tree - the tilt of the base giving you just enough room to crawl under the trunk, thick roots caging you in and separating you from the two male Na’vi. 
The second you make it through, there’s a burst of movement as the long haired male slides in front of the opening, long arm sticking through the roots and reaching for you. You whimper when his fingers brush your mask and you try to scoot yourself further back against the dirt, but there isn’t much room. 
“Come out of there,” He says, voice soft like he’s trying to coax you out, but the underlining reverb of a growl taints the attempt. “It’s dangerous under there,”
“Yes, tawtute,” The other says, long legs visible from behind his brother’s upper body. “Much safer out here with us,”
You can’t help the anger and frustration that wells inside you as you hear the absolute lie they are trying to tell you. 
“Bullshit,” You spit.
The long haired male removes his reaching arm and peers at you through the roots, eyes alight with mirth. “Oh, you hear that, brother? Our little vrrtep has a mouth on her,”
The other male chuckles and squats down to peer at you through your self imposed cage. “And what a pretty mouth it is. Can’t wait to see what else it can do,”
Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. That sounded . . . suggestive. That couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like, right?
“What do you say, sevin? Want your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock?” He asks, playful fingers lifting up the front of his loincloth slightly as if to tease you. And then, suddenly, there’s a new fear taking over. 
They don’t want to catch you to kill you - they want you. 
“My name is Lo’ak,” He continues, lifting his hand from his loincloth to wiggle his fingers at you in greeting. Five fingers, you notice. “You know, just so you know what to scream out later when I’m fucking you,”
More tears well up in your eyes, cascading down your flushed cheeks. “P-please. Don’t hurt m-me,” You beg, wide eyes pleading with the large blue men holding you hostage to show you mercy. “I’ll leave! I promise! You’ll never see me again,”
“She begs so beautifully already,” The other male says, nudging his brother’s arm. “She’s gonna sound so good when she’s crying in pleasure. Go ahead and try it out for me, paskalin. Let me hear you say it: Neteyam,”
Neteyam looks at her expectantly, golden green eyes dark from where his pupils have nearly completely taken over. 
“Fuck you,” You hiss. You try to put as much malice and ferocity in your words as you can muster, but Neteyam only grins at your curse.
“Yeah, tawtute. That’s the idea,”
Lo’ak suddenly moves, shifting over to the side of the tree and you panic at the abrupt movement, scrambling over and pressing your back against the roots on the opposite side just to be as far from him as possible. 
“Come on out, baby,” He purrs, eyes hooded as he stares at you. “Don’t you want to take a ride? Feel some big alien cock in your pretty, tiny pussy?”
You open your mouth again to shoot some more choice expletives at him, but all that comes out is a scream when the roots behind you rip and a large hand grips at your hair, dragging your body from its hiding spot and into the dimming light of the forest.
Neteyam hauls you up on your feet, fist tangled in your hair keeping you from running and grabs one of your swinging arms, pinning it behind your back. Lo’ak steps in front of you, tall and imposing at nearly twice your height, but you still try to fight, fight for your life and your freedom, and your hand smacks as hard as it can against his hip.
It doesn’t do anything to him obviously, you’re not even sure if he felt it, but all the fight leaves you in an instant when the large knife the size of your forearm waves in your face.
“You’re gonna be a good girl for us now, okay?” He says, tapping the glass of your mask with the tip of his knife as if he were trying to boop your nose. The tip of the knife travels down your neck, over your collarbone, and towards the center of your chest. If you were able to think correctly, you would be amazed at the control he has over the blade to not let it cut you despite your chest heaving with your frantic breathing. “Stay still now,”
The knife travels towards the valley between your breasts, taking the neck of your t-shirt with it and pulling it down and down until Lo’ak just cleanly slices through the whole front of it. Neteyam releases your arm now that you're not fighting against them anymore, but still keeps a firm grip on your hair. The ruined shirt slips from your shoulders and Lo’ak brings the knife back up to hook underneath the band of your bra, slicing through the material like it was paper and pushing the remnants of that off of your body as well. 
“Such a pretty little thing,” He muses, running the flat of the blade across one of your exposed breasts, the cool metal making you shiver as it presses against your heated skin. Lo’ak twists the knife and places the very tip of it at your nipple. The sharp edge makes you gasp, the bud starting to harden immediately at the feeling and you can’t help but feel mortified when you feel wetness pool in your panties. 
Lo’ak’s nose twitches, a wicked grin pulling at his lips as his large amber eyes catch yours, but it’s Neteyam that digs the metaphorical knife deeper, furthering your humiliation and making your face burn.
“Aw, is the cute little tawtute getting wet for us? We can smell you,” Neteyam laughs, dragging your head back further so he can get a good look at your face. “Look, brother. Look how flushed she’s getting,”
“You think that flush is going all the way down here?” Lo’ak asks, the tip of the knife leaving your nipple to tease your clit over your shorts.
“Rip them off and find out,” Neteyam suggests, and you start to wriggle again in his unrelenting grasp. 
“Wait!” You shout. Your neck is still craned up towards the sky, so you only feel rather than see Lo’ak undo your button and zipper. “Wait, please. I’ll do anything,”
“Yeah,” Neteyam agrees, looking down at your pleading face. His fingers latch onto one of your hard nipples and pulls on it, eliciting a sharp gasp from your plump lips. “You will,”
In an instant, Lo’ak yanks your shorts and panties down and Neteyam moves behind you to kneel on the forest floor, one knee pressing into the ground while the other acts as a stabilizer, foot flat against the ground. Neteyam’s grip on your hair is released as he grabs you by your hips instead, pulling you up to sit on his thigh, bare pussy pressing against the bulging muscles. 
The feeling of his muscles tensing under you makes more heat pool in your stomach, and your pussy is wet and sticky already as you squirm against him. Your legs fall on either side of his and even with him kneeling your feet still can’t touch the ground, toes just barely brush against the grass and only if you’re actually stretching to reach it. But the additional stretch just makes you push your cunt harder against his thigh and you whimper, not knowing what to do or how to move.
Neteyam wraps a restraining arm around your chest, trapping one of your arms under his and grabbing onto your other bicep, his large hand practically spanning the entirety of your upper arm and pinning it down. His other hand moves up to his mouth, long middle finger sliding between his lips, licking the long digit and pulling it out when it’s wet and glistening in the setting sunlight. He brings his wet finger to your core, dipping it between your folds and circling your clit. 
“So wet already, tawtute,” He whispers, lips brushing against the curve of your ear.
You whimper as he rubs you, dipping his finger down lower to gather more of your wetness and dragging it back up to tease small circles around your pulsing nub. When his fingers trail down again, it's to press at your entrance, and you can’t help the whiny moan that escapes you as his finger slips easily inside your leaking hole.
Lo’ak’s been watching you this whole time, crouching down to get a good, clear look at your glistening pink cunt, and the sight of his brother’s finger sliding inside of you prompts him to have some fun of his own. He stands, fingers moving quickly to untie his loincloth, the material loosening and sliding down his legs, flittering to the ground below him.  
You’re distracted, Neteyam’s finger is rubbing against your gummy walls, sliding in and out effortlessly while his thumb plays with your clit, so you don’t realize what’s so wrong with Lo’ak’s body until he’s directly in front of you - naked pelvis and even more naked center only a foot away from your face. 
Your eyes widen as you look at it, confusion written all over your face as you stare at the empty, flat space where his member should be. Lo’ak laughs at the bewildered look on your face and Neteyam mouths at your shoulder to hide his own grin. 
“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” Lo’ak says. “I’ve got plenty of cock for you. It’s just hidden. I’ll get it out for you since you're a little tied up.”
His fingers reach down to rub at the empty space and you watch in fascinated awe as he plays down there, fingers pressing in harder and sliding against the hidden slit you hadn’t seen before. His fingers dip inside, eyes closing in pleasure for a moment before they flick back open, sultry hooded orbs locked on your own. 
“What the f–ahh!” You cry, eyes squeezing shut, back arching in pleasure against Neteyam as another of his fingers pushes inside you. They’re long enough on their own, the combined thickness enough to feel like a cock inside you already. 
When your eyes open again, they lock immediately on what’s happening between Lo’ak’s legs. There’s something poking out from the slit and it takes your scared and pleasure hazed brain way too long to realize it’s his cock. It’s just the head peeking out, the mushroomed lavender tip like a bright, slick beacon between his dark blue thighs. He grins when your mouth falls open at the sight, fingers dipping back into his wet slit and pulling out another inch.
Every inch of his cock has your eyes widening, the long and hard length now fully unsheathed and bumping against his belly. Blue skin and even darker stripes litter the shaft, small bioluminescent freckles scatter towards the top and lead to the light purple tip. A fleeting thought has you thinking it's pretty, the colors blending in beautifully with one another, but when you see the textured bumps decorating the entire length, the panic hits you again.
“Let me go!” You scream, fighting against Neteyam’s hold, but hold is firm. “It won’t fit! You can’t! It won’t fit!”
“That’s why we have to stretch you out first,” Neteyam mutters, mouth pressed against your shoulder. His third finger nudges at your entrance and you stop breathing when it pushes against your already stuffed hole. The stretch is intense, your small body struggling to take the invasion as his long finger pushes in beside the others. His thumb rubs lovingly at your clit, distracting you from the stretch and working up the pressure starting to build in your belly. 
Lo’ak strokes at his cock, shuffling forward until the weeping tip of it is inches from your face. 
“You wanna taste it?” He asks, his other hand gripping onto the bottom of your mask. 
You whimper, terrified at the prospect of him pulling your mask off, but can’t get out anything more than a stuttering, “P-please,”
“Be a good girl and hold your breath for me,”
There’s a loud hiss of air as the seal around your face breaks, and then you can’t breathe. Can’t even make a sound when he pulls the mask halfway up your face to free your mouth, letting the bottom of it sit below your nose as he pushes his fingers into the hinges of your jaw to pry your mouth open. 
The lavender tip of his cock pushes between your lips, the underside dragging along your tongue. You can feel every bump and ridge as it pushes in further, the texture both unusual and intimidating as it slides against the warm wet muscle. 
And then it’s gone, your mask replaced and the burst of oxygen rushing into your lungs makes you feel even more lightheaded than without having any oxygen at all.
“Good girl,” Lo’ak coos, hand once again gripping the bottom of your mask and leaning down to press a sweet kiss against its glass. 
Neteyam’s fingers are still working themselves in and out of your stuffed pussy, and you see Lo’ak’s ears twitch a second before you even hear it: the horrible squelching sounds your pussy is making as it rocks against his three fingers.
“Such a good girl,” He grins. He stands up, holding his cock steady and pulling your mask up again, the hiss of air mingling with the wet sounds coming from your drenched cunt. “Let’s go again,”
His cock pushes inside of your mouth again, barbed length sliding against your tongue and nudging the back of your throat. You gag, choking from both lack of oxygen and Lo’ak’s thick cock, and you can barely register the light and strangely sweet taste of his precum as it coats your tastebuds. 
Neteyam’s fingers are ruthless inside of you, curling and dragging against your gummy walls with skilled expertise and his thumb is practically a blur on your clit. When Lo’ak replaces your mask and air once again fills your lungs, it's only there for a second before you’re screaming and gasping, the coil in your stomach almost too much to bear as it tightens, threatening to rip you apart when it snaps.
Your screaming is cut off again when Lo’ak lifts the mask away, shoving his cock harder and deeper into your mouth until the glass of your mask is pressing against his pelvis and his cock has slipped down your throat. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you take it, legs shaking against Neteyam’s thigh. When it's replaced this time and air is once again allowed into your lungs, Neteyam’s teeth latch onto your shoulder, sharp canines digging into the tender skin. The bite brings about a sharp pain immediately followed by a flood of intense pleasure - your body jerks in his hold, shaking violently as the coil in your belly snaps. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, gushing against his hand as your orgasm rips through you without mercy. 
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Lo’ak grunts, fisting his cock with one hand while checking to make sure your mask is secure with the other.
You mumble a weak reply, but the words don’t make sense, they don’t even sound like real words to your own ears - and your ‘not words’ turn into a forlorn whine as Neteyam pulls his fingers from your still pulsing pussy. 
He tilts your upper body to the side, sliding most of you off of him except for your leg still draped over his thigh at the knee while your other foot presses onto the ground, leaving you spread wide. His free hand falls behind you, somewhere around his hip where you can’t see, and then something large and round shaped is nudging between your folds and prodding at your entrance.
“No,” You mewl. “Won’t fit,”
“Shh, be quiet, ma sevin tawtute,” He grunts, pressure pushing at your hole as he starts forwards. “It will fit,”
You take in gasping breaths as the pressure intensifies, dripping hole resisting the push as much as it can before relenting to the large male Na’vi’s wishes and the thick mushroom head of his cock pops inside. Neteyam groans when he breaches you, unwrapping his arm from your upper body and gripping both of your thighs with his large hands, hauling you up and in the air as he stands up.
Your back is pressed tightly against his chest, thighs spread open and vulnerable to Lo’ak’s hungry gaze as gravity pushes you down further on his brother’s cock. You whimper loudly, hands desperately gripping at Neteyam’s forearms as he impales you on him. The bumps on his cock drag without mercy against your sensitive walls, and your right leg shakes in his grip from the overwhelming intensity. 
It feels so good, so devastatingly good inside of you, the barbs and ridges sliding just right against your gummy walls and you toss your head back with a silent scream as he bottoms out, tip nudging against your cervix.
You’ve never felt so full before. It feels like he’s all the way in your stomach, cock barreling through your important organs and rearranging your guts just to make enough room for him to fit. You chance a look down, letting out a wailing cry that’s half pleasure, half horror when you see the large bulge protruding from your abdomen. 
“Fuck,” Neteyam moans. “She’s so tight,”
Lo’ak grins mischievously as Neteyam lowers his mouth to the side of your neck, pressing gentle kisses there as he starts to rock into you. One moment he’s in front of your face, sending you a cheeky wink when you gasp as the cock inside of you hits just the right angle to brush against your special spot, and then the next he’s crouching down, textured tongue lolling out of his mouth and licking against your swollen clit. 
You squeal at the feeling of his rough tongue, textured similarly to that of a cat’s, lapping at the sensitive nub. 
“T-too much!” You cry. You can’t close your legs, Neteyam’s hands holding them firmly open as he thrusts harder inside you, and your hands push against Lo’ak’s head, but he doesn’t budge - large head staying put while his tongue continues to swipe against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 
When Lo’ak decides he’s had enough, he lifts his head, trailing kisses up your stomach starting just above the disappearing and reappearing bulge in your belly and up your chest, tongue laving over the swell of your breast and latching onto your nipple, sharp teeth nibbling on the hard bud as you yelp.
His lips wrap around it, suckling on it for a moment before pulling off with a pop. 
“You taste so good, baby,” He murmurs, reaching down to play with your clit. “Like the sweetest little treat,”
“Feel so good, paskalin,” Neteyam grunts, lifting your body up and slamming it back down on his cock to fuck into your harder. “Snug little pussy squeezing me so well. You were made to take Na’vi cock, weren’t you?”
“Oohh my goooooood,” You moan, eyes rolling back into your head from the overwhelming stimulation. “C-can’t t-take i-itt,”
“Sure you can,” Lo’ak teases, face so close to yours that in your haze all you can see is his bright golden eyes. “Didn’t you hear what he just said?”
Neteyam’s thrusts are getting sloppy, moans and grunts a constant source behind you, and he hisses a quick “Fuck, take her,” at his brother. Before you know what’s happening, you’re suddenly pressed against Lo’ak, chest pressed tightly against his and Neteyam releases one of your thighs in favor of gripping your hip. Lo’ak’s hand cradles your released thigh instead, keeping you steady against him as his brother uses his new found leverage to pound into your tight cunt. Your arms instinctively wrap around Lo’ak’s neck, holding on for dear life as you moan and whimper loudly with the cool glass of your mask pressed against his collarbone. 
You can feel the knot in your belly tightening again, and you can’t think about anything other than how impossibly full you feel and how good the ridges and bumps on his cock feel as they scrap and drag inside of you. Neteyam’s grip turns bruising, fingers digging into your hip and thigh as he fucks you harder. 
“Who’s pussy is this?” Neteyam growls, mushroomed tip pounding into your cervix. “Go on, tawtute. Say it!”
“Neteyaaamm,” You moan. “Please, please, please,”
Distantly, even through your hazy, fucked out brain, you can feel something thick and round prodding at your entrance, bumping and stretching you out even more with each thrust. You cum, sobbing as you contract tightly around him, body shaking in Lo’ak’s hold as his large hand rubs up and down your back soothingly. 
Neteyam pulls out of you with a tortured groan and your eyes flutter shut, pussy still contracting and squeezing and wanting - wanting his long, hard length inside of you again, wanting it splitting you open, and now that it's gone, you can’t believe how empty you feel.
Lo’ak lowers you gently to the ground, resting your exhausted body on the soft moss. You feel the way he pulls your thighs apart again, settling himself between them, what’s left of the setting sunlight filtering in behind your eyelids getting blocked as he hovers over you. 
“Stay awake, vrrtep,” He says, smacking your thigh lightly to wake you back up. Your heavy eyes peel themselves open, watching as Lo’ak braces one hand above your head while the other guides his cock to your core. You whimper as he drags the head of his cock through your dripping folds, teasing the tip against your clit before running it down your slit and lining it up with your entrance. “It’s my turn,”
The slide is easier this time as he pushes in, but still no less intense. Your tired and overstimulated body tenses at the intrusion, tightening around him as he spears you open with his thick girth. 
“Such a pretty demon,” He moans, pleasure shooting through his veins at the feel of your tiny body hugging his cock like it never wants to let him go. “Tempting us the way you did,”
His hips start up a gentle tempo, rocking inside you to help you get used to his size and letting you feel the pleasurable drag of his barbs against your oversensitive walls. 
You whine, denying his comment. “D-didn’t do anyth–”
He silences you with a sharp snap of his hips, upping the rhythm of his thrusts and leaning down further so his pubic bone grinds against your clit with each thrust. Already you can feel another orgasm barreling towards you, threatening to rip you apart the same way his cock is splitting you open. 
“Fuck!” You squeal, back arching as your pussy squelches between your bodies. “Oh my god, fuck!”
“Say my name, baby,” Lo’ak grunts. “Wanna hear you moan it,”
“Looo’aaaaak,” You moan, bliss clouding your judgment as your hips buck into his in return. 
Out of the corner of your eye you see Neteyam, standing just to the side, watching as his brother fucks your very soul from your body as his hand strokes along his raging length. Your eyes catch on something unusual towards the base of his cock -  a thick, round bulb that shouldn’t be there and he smirks as he sees you gaping at it, hand stroking down to the base and squeezing the thick engorged knot of tissue tightly, moaning at the sensation.
Lo’ak thrusts in you harder and you feel that same thick, round ball bumping at your entrance that you felt when Neteyam was fucking you. The same bulbish ball of tissue that must be the same as the one you're looking at right now.
“Great Mother,” Lo’ak groans, face scrunched up in pleasure. “I wanna knot you so fucking bad,”
“Don’t,” Neteyam growls, jerking forward as if to pull his brother away from you, but Lo’ak curls his body around yours protectively, a deep hiss of warning ripping from his throat as he bares his teeth at his brother. 
Neteyam freezes, hands up in surrender but he glares at the brother inside you all the same. “Don’t. We don’t know if her body can take it yet.”
Lo’ak grunts, resuming his thrusts. “I know. Just back off,”
His cock pounds you relentlessly, kissing your cervix and his hand reaches down to caress the bulge in your belly. He presses down on the bulging bump firmly at the same time that his teeth sink into the still unmarked side of your neck, making you scream, the blissful agonized cry echoing through the forest as you cream all over his cock.
He pulls out, groaning woefully like his brother did, and fists his cock furiously, aiming the leaking tip directly at your puffy, spent pussy. Neteyam does the same, crouching low and close, stroking his cock beside you as he aims for your chest. 
They cum within seconds of one another, shooting hot, thick stripes of pearly bioluminescent cum all over your body, covering your chest and lower half with their release. 
You can barely feel your body anymore, can’t move a single limb on your own, and, despite not having any use of anything, your body won’t stop shaking - oversensitive and overstimulated and completely satisfied in a way you never thought you could be. 
“Ready to head home, sevin tawtute?” Neteyam asks, breathing heavy as he recovers from his orgasm. He just came but his eyes are still dark and sinful, looking at you like he wants to eat you whole. Your exhausted eyes flick to Lo’ak only to see the same desirous expression. 
There’s a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach as you close your eyes, listening to their dark chuckles as your body forces you to rest. The last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is a low, deep voice say . . .
“You’re ours now,”
Extra>>>
**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!
Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife
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thaleleah · 25 days
Text
𝓗𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻
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Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Academy!Reader
Warnings: Dub-Con, Seduction/Manipulation, Oral (female and male receiving), Handjob, Food Play (feeding each other/licking stuff off bodies, but its more of a seduction tactic), Finger Sucking, Ruined Orgasm, Slight Overstimulation, Slight Dacryphilia Kink, Reader is spoiled and delulu, Sub!Coriolanus
**Based off this irl porn post (takes you to Twitter/X).
Word Count: 10K
A/N: Literally just started the book today so Coriolanus is probs wayyyy out of character but . . . just go with it lol. I wanted him to be ✨subby✨
Summary: When you find out that the great Coriolanus Snow is not as financially well off as he makes himself out to be, you can't help but take advantage of his vulnerability.
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Hunger is a weapon - every Capitol citizen knows this. 
It’s the most useful piece of knowledge used when carving down an enemy. The people in the districts need to be taught fear, obedience for their devastating betrayal to the Capitol. If they thought they knew oppression before the First Rebellion . . . well, they just didn’t know how good they had it. 
Things are back as they should be now. The Capitol stands at the top of the hierarchy, the districts fumbling below in their failure as they suffer their punishments and try to make amends in order to have the favor of those in charge. 
Your family was lucky, surviving the war with minimal losses and maintaining your excessive wealth in the process. It’s a life of luxury for you - one of comfort and ease. You want for nothing, desire for nothing that you can’t have in a split second with a snap of your fingers or a hopeful, doe-eyed pout at your father.  
Nothing, except one thing. 
Him. 
Coriolanus Snow.
He walks with such confidence, lean body moving gracefully and an air of arrogant smugness following him around as he vies for the Plinth Prize. He’s smart, very smart - top of the class at the Academy, and you can’t help but admit that you find his intelligence extremely attractive. 
He’s beautiful, angelic blond curls always strategically fluffed, the perfect contrast to the Academy’s rouge uniforms. And sometimes, when he’s leaning down to scribble in his notebook during class, a few rogue curls will fall across his forehead and into those eyes - those eyes that sparkle despite his constant controlled and put together facade. You want those eyes on you. Want them to see you, follow you around as you walk the halls of the Academy, never leaving your visage as you sit prettily in class, back straight and legs crossed under your desk - your posture a solid reminder of your high stature within society. 
You want them wet with tears, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you while you ride him, hard and fast as his mouth begs for mercy despite his pretty blue eyes begging for more.
You’re a prize, he’d be lucky to have you - and yet, whenever he looks your way, it’s with disdain. 
You’re a fucking goddess, beauty unmatched. He should be falling at your feet just to get a second of your time. But no, instead he ignores you, never once looking your way other than when studiously listening to your response to a question asked during class before those blue eyes make their way back to the professor. They never linger, never once. And that realization makes your blood boil.
He’s smart, but you’re smart too - spite and bitterness reenergizing your academic drive. He wants the Plinth Prize and you want him. So you do the only thing that you can think of that will ensure his focus lands on you no matter what.
You go for the Plinth Prize too.
You’re on his ass in academics - every test and every project leading you closer and closer to over taking him for the win. His eyes can’t leave you now, always following you, narrowed and hateful as you smile smugly back at him. Sometimes you think you can see fear in them, like he can physically feel your sharp, manicured nails digging into the vulnerable balloon of his dreams and can hear the shallow hiss of escaping air through the punctures. 
You hope he can feel your metaphorical breath on the back of his neck.
The mid semester review comes around and classes are canceled for the rest of the day as professors meet with their students to go over their academic standings. You walk into the building just minutes before your scheduled meeting time, bag slung over your shoulder and a dried fruit bar in your hand as you climb the stairs towards Professor Rosebloom’s office. Normally, you would be at least 15 minutes early, punctuality and proper time management drilled into you from a young age. However, Professor Rosebloom likes her schedules, the exact measurements of time, and plans out each class and meeting down to the minute. It’s useless to assume there’s any wiggle room for early arrivals or dismissals. It’s not beneficial - not when the door to her office won’t open again until the very moment it hits your scheduled appointment time. So you take your time climbing the stairs, taking a bite of your snack bar when you see him. 
He’s leaning against one of the pillars in the middle of the hall, back pressed against the rounded edge as he bites into a cookie. He looks stressed, body rigid as he chews, the back of his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth after each bite. You smirk, eyes narrowed in glee as you stalk towards him like a predator sneaking up on her prey. His mind is elsewhere, completely unaware of you coming up next to him until his gaze falls to your shadow overtaking his own along the glossy floor. 
He has only a second for his brain to register your presence before you speak, a smooth and sweet, “Coriolanus,” that nevertheless has him jumping in his spot against the pillar. 
You watch as he fumbles the cookie in his hand, the half eaten treat falling to the ground, breaking into smaller pieces under the impact. His face is rather comical as he stares down at the ruined cookie, eyes wide and mouth agape, and you swear you see his hand twitch just the slightest bit as if he was going to pick it up off the dirty floor before he takes a deep breath and those piercing blue eyes cut to you. 
“What?” He asks, voice sharp.
“Aw, sorry to make you drop your snack,” You say, feigning sympathy. “It looked yummy,”
His eyes fall shut for a moment, long eyelashes creating shadows along the top of his cheeks as he fights for composure. “It was,”
“You should have saved it for after your meeting,” You say, stepping closer to him, just far away enough to still be considered a proper amount of space, but close enough for him to have to tilt his head downwards to maintain eye contact. “As a condolence for when you hear that I’m the top student and a shoo-in for the Plinth Prize and not you.”
A low rumble bursts from his throat and he pushes off of the pillar to tower over you, glaring down at your shorter figure as he growls, “That’s not going to happen,”
His closeness makes your heart race, and you want nothing more than to drop the fruit bar from your hand and tangle your fingers into his fluffy hair. You’d do it too - would risk everything, the perfect image you’ve cultivated and the resulting embarrassment of seeming needy - if only you knew he would reciprocate. But he’s stubborn, you don’t know, and your pride gets in the way of any impulsive decision you might make, no matter how hot the desire burns through your veins. 
Instead, you bring the snack bar up to your mouth, perfect white teeth sinking into the sticky bar as you keep your eyes locked on his. Your intense focus on him is the only reason you see how his eyes falter from yours, the furious fire in them dimming into a softer need as they fall to your mouth. 
Your glossed lips pull into a smirk. Finally, finally, he’s getting the picture. You knew it was only a matter of time. He was a man after all, and men are weak when it comes to the wiles of women. It was bound to happen, no one with eyes or any sense of a brain would be able to resist you for too long - Coriolanus was just a slight exception. 
But you’ve got him now, can see in his eyes how badly he wants you. His eyes are locked on your lips, following the movement as they press together and move as you chew. The bright light in the hall is probably glittering off of them right now, making them look even more plush and enticing as it glistens off the thin layer of gloss that coats them. He’s probably thinking about how much he wants to kiss them right now. Imagining them wrapped around his cock and how soft they would feel as you plant sweet and teasing kisses along his shaft before taking him completely into your warm mouth. He’s probably kicking himself, wondering how he could have been so stupid as to push you away for as long as he has when he could have had you all to himself this whole time. 
All the time he’s wasted because of his pride and ego. 
The hand holding the fruit bar lowers slightly, teasing words of victory on the tip of your tongue as you open your mouth to gloat about your obvious success and his pathetic loss as he succumbs to his own desire for you. But you freeze when his wanting gaze doesn’t stay on your lips like you expect. Instead, they fall with the snack bar, following the food source like a puppy waiting for its master to grace them with a treat, and your words die before they can make a sound. 
The food? Seriously? He was looking at the food?!
As if on cue, his stomach growls. He snaps out of his daze at the sound, a hand shooting up to press against his belly as if trying to quiet the noise. 
You stare at him incredulously, eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Hungry much?”
He scoffs. “I missed breakfast this morning and now you’ve made me drop my snack. So, yes. I’m hungry.”
His words come out confident - practiced and dismissive in the way they would lead someone to believe his verbal jab in a heartbeat. But you’re too close to him right now for it to have the same effect that it normally would. You’re too observant, too eagle-eyed when it comes to all things Coriolanus, and now you're kicking yourself for not noticing it sooner. 
The way his eyes flash with a moment of panic before they roll in annoyance, feigned annoyance, because there’s still nervousness clear in those beautiful blue orbs. The way they can’t help but flick just for the quickest of seconds towards the bar still in your hand and your own snap down to the movement of his stomach as he sucks in his belly, an obvious attempt at trying to use the muscle movement to starve off another growl. 
The buttons on his shirt aren’t completely round, you notice. They do a good job at pretending to be, but under further inspection you realize that some are more oval than round. A couple are even slightly jagged. They remind you of the tesserae tiles you’ve seen in the maid’s bathroom - nearly a perfect match. Your critical gaze follows the rest of the length of his body, looking for anything else that suddenly seems off about the only son of the great Crassus Snow. Years ago, your father had mentioned rumors that the Snow family might not be in the most opulent financial standing. You hadn’t believed him at the time, the Snow family had always seemed very well off whenever you would see them around the Capitol or at events. Coriolanus had never once let on that they were living in anything less than a life of luxury during all your shared time at the Academy. 
And yet, when you reach his feet, it becomes an undeniable reality. There, on the feet of the boy who you’ve been lusting over for the better part of two years, is a pair of too tight and just this side of too worn shoes.
You’re just barely able to hold back your gasp at the realization. He’s always been thin, but you chalked that up to him just being tall and lanky. But this? This is so unexpected. 
Coriolanus Snow is . . . impoverished? Penniless. 
Needy. 
The idea comes to mind before you can even think about it, eyes sliding back up to meet his as you take another slow and mocking bite of your fruit bar. 
“What will you do?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in question, slowly chewing the sweet treat. “When I win the Plinth Prize,”
“You won’t,” He answers quickly, and the raw determination in his voice makes you grin.
You take another quick bite of your bar and offer a small shrug of your shoulder. “Why don’t we be smart about this, Coriolanus? Put aside our teeth gritting rivalry in exchange for some good old fashioned, friendly competition.”
“What are you suggesting?” He asks, suspiciously. 
“You can come to my home this weekend. We can study together. Make it a fair fight for our next exam,” And then, casual as ever, you add, “I’ll make sure we have lots of snacks at our disposal. Fuel for our brains, yes?”
Coriolanus pauses, clearly torn, and it’s unbelievable how someone who's always put on the face of confidence and self-assuredness can have their mask slip so carelessly so many times within a few minutes of interaction. 
The door to Professor Rosebloom’s office opens and out comes a disgruntled looking Festus Creed. He glances at you and Coriolanus standing just feet away from the door, but surprisingly has nothing to say for once as he walks past and down the hall towards the grand staircase. Professor Rosebloom stands at the door, calling your name and gesturing inside her office with a sharp nod. 
You look back at Coriolanus, a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you walk backwards towards Professor Rosebloom. “Tomorrow, okay? See you then!”
The feeling of his eyes boring into you as you turn and disappear into Rosebloom’s office makes you feel unstoppable. 
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Coriolanus arrives at your house the next day around mid-morning. 
He greets your parents respectfully, sharing a firm handshake with your father and nodding kindly at your mother, thanking them for allowing him into their home for the day and politely ignoring the looks of displeasure they both send him behind their masks of well-mannered hosts. 
You guide him up the stairs to your bedroom and sit yourself on the bed, smirking when he stands awkwardly in the doorway, one hand gripping the strap of his messenger bag. 
It’s so interesting to see him out in public, without the guise of an event or school trip to dictate what he wears. Today he dons a regular pair of pants, nice fitting around the waist and legs, but just a little too short around the ankles. You’re not sure if you would have noticed it had you not been looking. His sweater is a deep burgundy, thin lines of golden embroidery stitched around the collar and wrists to give an otherwise simple garment a taste of class. You don’t even want to look down at his shoes. If his nice dress shoes were looking tight and worn, you don’t want to see what his casual shoes look like. 
It doesn’t matter anyway, everything he’s wearing is going to be on your floor in a little while anyway. 
“Sit down, Coriolanus,” You instruct, pulling a book from your own bag and laying it out on the bed in front of you. “Don’t be shy.”
He takes a quick look behind him, checking to make sure your parents aren’t trying to spy from the hallway to catch them in the act of anything inappropriate despite this being a genuine study ‘date’ - at least on his part anyway. They won’t. Your father will be leaving for a lunch meeting in the city soon, and your mother will use the time to meet with her lover in one of the barely used guest bedrooms while he’s away. 
Coriolanus clears his throat before walking over to the bed, sitting tall on the edge, one of his legs bent at the knee to twist himself to face you while the other leg hangs off the side.
“We should start with the top three points that we think are the most important of each chapter,” he says. He pulls his book and a small notebook out of his bag before placing it on the ground next to the bed and out of the way. “And then we can discuss and expand on each point together.”
“Sounds good,” You nod. “Let’s begin.”
Studying has never been difficult for you. You find yourself blessed with a remarkable brain and an even more determined sense of spite that makes remembering factual information simple. Thoughts of Coriolanus often plague your mind during your study sessions. He is, after all, the reason why you study so hard in the first place. But when the thoughts get too much, thoughts of kissing those plush lips of his, whispering dirty things in his ear and having him moan filth back to you - wanting to thread your fingers into his golden hair and push his head down so it fits between your thighs where it belongs . . . A power break, you call it. A moment of respite from studying in order to take power over your overflowing desire for the only man who’s been able to resist your temptations so far. Your hand would find its way inside your pants or underneath your dress, fingers dipping into your drenched hole and rubbing furiously at your clit imagining it was his until the pent up release sets you free and you're able to focus on your work again. 
But with him actually being here, here in front of you, it’s a bit more difficult. Your pen stopped writing a while ago, eyes locked on the way his lashes flutter against his cheeks with each blink as he focuses on his notes. He bites his lip sometimes, teeth pressing into the plump flesh before he seems to catch himself and releases it, leaving behind twin red marks in the skin that you wish were imprints of your teeth instead of his. Your eyes travel down further to his throat, wanting to taste the smooth skin there under your tongue, and you can feel how wet you are already in your panties. 
After about an hour, a maid enters the room with a tray of snacks. She’s right on time, entering through your doorway at the exact moment you had instructed her to, but you're so worked up from Coriolanus just existing a couple feet away from you on your own bed, that you glare at her like you want to bite her head off. 
She doesn’t waste time, even more so when she sees your expression. The maid deposits the tray of food on the bed between the two of you and places a bottle of wine with two glasses on your side table before hurrying out of the room. 
Coriolanus looks up from his notebook the second the food is placed in front of him, eyes immediately locking onto the tray. It’s obvious how badly he wants to go for it, but he holds himself back. 
“Looks yummy, right?” You say, slyly, nodding to the small assortment of bread, cheeses, jams, and fruit. “Great brain food,” 
He nods, throwing in an indifferent shrug as he responds, “Yes, it’s—it’s fine.”
You grab the wine bottle from beside you, uncorking the bottle with practiced efforts. “I also asked for some tastier things too,” You say, gesturing to the wine and the small bowls of chocolate sauce and whipped cream also adorning the tray. “A little reward to us for all of our hard work this semester.”
It’s funny watching him just sit there, struggling to appear calm and collected in the presence of such delicious foods. What do poor people even eat anyway? Maybe nothing. Maybe he survives on water and the lunches the school provides. What a shame, he’s too pretty to suffer. But if he is going to suffer, you're excited that you at least get to reap the benefits. 
You pour two hefty glasses of wine, handing one to Coriolanus and bringing the other one between you, signaling for a toast. “To study dates and good food.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up in an aborted smile, and, to be honest, you’re not sure if he means it or not, but nevertheless he clicks his glass against yours anyway. “To study dates and good food.”
You watch his face from behind your glass as he brings his own to his lips. His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of wine against his tongue, and you wonder how often, if ever, he’s had the experience before to make him make such a euphoric face. He licks his lips, catching the stray drops of wine on his upper lip before he clears his throat.
“It’s nice,” He comments, nonchalantly. “Sweeter than the wine I’m used to.”
“Oh, yeah?” You grin, swirling your wine gently in the glass. The wine aerates under your nose as you breathe in the sweeter notes of its smell. “The Snows prefer the taste of drier wines, huh?”
“Yes, we do,”
He cuts the conversation short, looking back down at the plate of food. He still has his pen in his hand, the other hand occupied by the glass of wine, so you take the opportunity to put the next step of your plan in motion. 
“Keep writing,” You say, waving at his pen. You place your wine glass back on the side table and grab a small slice of bread from the tray. “You’re on a roll. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this.”
He clears his throat again, pressing the pen to the paper, but he can’t write anything. His eyes are glued to where you're prepping his snack, spreading a thick layer of creamy cheese on the bread before topping it with a few swipes of spiced jam. You want to laugh at how his mouth practically waters for it, lips parted in want and his pupils are unusually large against the bright blue canvas of his irises. 
“There we go,” You coo, holding up the savory treat between you both. “Open up, Coryo. The jam on top is to die for.”
You watch in glee as he opens his mouth, letting you bring the bread to his lips before he bites down on it. It’s quiet, too quiet, but the room is quiet too - so no matter how concealed he tries to hide his small moan of pleasure, you hear it anyway. And the sound shoots right to your dripping cunt. 
You feed him another bite, and then another, and you’re a little shocked that he’s even letting you feed him at all without protest or a show of pride, but you don’t complain. There’s a small smudge of jam smeared at the corner of his mouth. His pretty blue orbs never leave yours as you slowly trace along the sticky corner with your thumb, gathering up the bits of jam and popping it in your mouth letting out a small moan of your own at the taste. 
“So good,” You say again. He gulps, trying to hide his nervousness behind another long sip of wine. “You know what else is really good? This chocolate sauce,”
Your middle finger dips into the chocolate bowl, chocolate coating your finger as you pull it out, the excess dripping back into the bowl. You pop your finger into your mouth, humming at the rich taste as it soaks into your tastebuds. Coriolanus’s eyes follow your movements, still dark in want but also colored with confusion. Poor baby, you think. If you were a better person, you would feel guilty about manipulating him so badly.
But you’re not, and the bitch inside you roars in delight at how well you have him exactly where you want him. 
“Hmm, so good,” You whisper, slowly dragging your now clean finger back and forth along your bottom lip. “It’s William Dean, the best chocolate connoisseur in all of Panem. His chocolates are the best luxury, I’m sure you know, but I always prefer the chocolate sauce to the chocolates themselves.”
Your finger finds its way back into the chocolate before hovering it in front of Coriolanus’s slightly parted lips. “Don’t you wanna try it?”
There’s hesitation on his face, eyes flickering with uncharacteristic uncertainty from yours to your dessert covered finger and back again as he thinks. In the end, the want wins out, and he opens his mouth more to let you slip your finger inside. The inside of his mouth is warm and wet, the strong muscle of his tongue licking along your finger as he sucks off every single bit of chocolate offered on it. His tongue vibrates under your finger as he moans, louder this time than the last, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. You wonder if it’s just from the taste of the chocolate or from the combined taste of your skin and spit too. 
“Delicious, right?” You ask, slowly pulling your finger from between his plush lips.
When his eyes open again, his pupils are blown wide - only a thin band of blue around the edges - and you can’t help but smirk at yourself in their reflection. 
He nods, as if dazed, letting out a low “mhm” in agreement.
“Here,” You grab a strawberry off the tray and coat it with the melty chocolate just like your finger. “Try it with this.”
He doesn’t even hesitate as you bring it up to his mouth, lips parting as his teeth bite into the red fruit. You almost can’t believe how blissed out he looks, just from a few bites of food. His chewing is slow, like it’s purposeful - dedicated to savoring every second as he enjoys what he never gets to have, eyes hazy with an almost far away look to them. 
Poor Coriolanus Snow, how the mighty have fallen. 
You quickly bite the other half, barely registering the sweetness of the fruit mixed with the richness of the chocolate before tossing the green leafy top back onto the tray. Instead, the visual of him licking the leftover chocolate left on his lips from the bite into the fruit sears into your brain. 
“It’s probably the best you’ve ever tasted, huh?” The dig comes out without your permission, but it doesn’t matter because while normally his clever and quick mind would have had you scrambling for a response to whatever his snappy comeback would have been, he doesn’t seem to catch on to your implication.
He’s too drunk right now. Too drunk on the few sips of wine and small bites of food he’s had. Too drunk on savoring everything, desperate in the way his gaze drops back down to the small feast in front of him. 
“Hey,” You call, bringing his attention back to your face. He looks like a puppy waiting for his next command. “Are you going to thank me for being such a gracious host?”
“Thank you,” He whispers. 
“No, Coryo,” You say, a wicked grin pulling at your lips. “Thank me,”
Your previous dig might have gone over his head, but the unspoken demand doesn’t. Hazy blue meets your own hooded ones, a breathless moment between the two of you as your words sink in, and then he’s leaning forward - soft, pouty mouth pressing against yours gently. 
Victory burns through your veins like fire. The urge to scream like a madwoman, the sound feeling stuck at the back of your throat, urging you to let it out just so you can relieve some of this overwhelming excitement that runs through you. But no, you have to be calm about this. Strategic. Don’t fuck this up, you remind yourself. Don’t scare him off. 
But your hands itch to bury themselves in his hair, wanting to grip the golden strands between your fingers and tug hard enough to make him whine against your mouth. His lips feel like heaven against yours, the soft press of his bottom lip fitting between yours before he pulls back, breathing into your space for a moment, before coming back in for another kiss without you even having to tell him. 
His lips move against yours with an intoxicating combination of shyness and want. He’s still gentle, way too gentle for your liking - you didn’t wait to have him for this long for him to be soft about it. You want the roughness, the passion, the desperation where he wants you so much that he can’t bear to not have his hands on you for even a second. But there’s also power in the shyness, in the nervousness that you have erupting from every pore of his body. 
When he pulls back again, you don’t hesitate to move your lips to his cheek, kissing across the cool, smooth skin. His hand has long since dropped the pen by now, now choosing to fist into the lush fabric of your very expensive sheets while the other somehow still holds onto his half filled wine glass. His breathing is starting to get shaky - unsteady shallow breaths puffing out next to your ear as your lips trace the line of his jaw. 
Without even having to look, you grab another strawberry, dipping it into the chocolate and bringing it to where your mouth is pressing hot, open mouth kisses to Coriolanus’s jaw. 
He jumps at the first touch of the tip of the fruit against his neck, a confused grunt escaping his lips as he mutters a quiet, “What are you doing?” But he doesn’t move away, doesn’t pull back from the way your lips nibble at the sensitive spot behind his ear. 
You drag the fruit down the long column of his neck, leaving a line of tempting chocolate in its wake as you whisper a soothing, “Just relax, Coryo. I’m eating,”
Your tongue finds the bottom of the trail, pressing flat and wet against his neck as you lick away the chocolate in one long seductive lick. You're quick to repeat the process, dragging the fruit down the column of his throat, a delicious line of sweetness you can devour while tasting the distinct flavor of him underneath it. His head tips back to allow you access to the trail of chocolate on his throat, and you reward his cooperation by holding the fruit above his upturned face so he can sink his teeth into it while you sink your teeth into him. 
His throat bobs underneath your lips when he swallows. 
The whipped cream still sits untouched in the bowl, and your neck still stays untouched with Coriolanus’s kisses. So you grab his chin, dragging his face back down to yours once again.
“You hungry, baby?” You ask, your eyes locked on his. “You wanna eat, too?”
“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding frantically against your grip. “I’m starving.”
Whipped cream sticks thickly to the spoon as you pull it out of the small bowl. The white substance sticks to your skin as you drag it down along your neck, your body heat melting some of it directly upon contact and small streaks of white drip down to your collarbone. The spoon isn’t even moved away yet when he leans forward, pink tongue laving eagerly against your skin as he licks up the cream. 
His tongue is so soft, wet and hot against your neck, warm breath fanning across the wet skin as his tongue follows the scattered drippings down lower. You're quick to add more whipped cream to your body, smearing it lower across your chest and over the swell of your breast peeking out from the top of your dress. The feel of his mouth on your breast makes your jaw drop, breathy sighs falling from your lips as you watch him lick the cream off your chest. His pink lips look beautiful on the round swell, thick lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks as he latches onto the top to suck gently, still trying to get every last taste of cream onto his greedy tastebuds. 
Gripping his chin again, you pull him back up to your face, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. He groans when your tongue pushes through into his mouth, sliding against his as you suck the taste of the whipped cream off his tongue. His hands come up to hold your face, one hand cradling your cheek while the other hand, still holding the glass of wine, reaches up to touch your jaw and helps to tilt your face up to his. 
Your fingers grab the thin straps of your dress, pulling them down over your shoulders and freeing your breasts from the cups. You hate to drag your lips from his, teeth digging into his plump bottom lip and pulling as you pull back, grinning at the groan it rips from him in return. You grab the glass from his hand, arching your back slightly to puff out your chest more as you spill a little of the wine over it. Coriolanus groans at the sight of the red drink running down your chest, cascading over your breasts and dripping down further to soak into the material of your dress. 
“F-fuck,” he whimpers, and immediately takes the hint, large hands gripping your waist to hold you still.
His pink tongue draws along your chest, cleaning the spillage from your skin as he nibbles along your breast. His plush lips wrap around your nipple, tonguing the hard bud with the tip of his tongue before sucking gently. 
“Good boy,” You coo. You’re trying for a taunting tone, but the words come out more gritted than you would have liked as you feel your panties completely soak through. “Clean it all up for me,”
His pretty eyes look up at you as he sucks, dark with desire as he stares up at you through his lashes. He pops off your nipple with a wet sound, tongue dragging across the swell of your breast as he makes his way to the other one. When he’s done, your chest and tits are wet with his saliva instead of the sticky wine, and you shiver when his warm breath fans over the damp skin. 
You lean back against the bed, holding the wine glass straight up as you lie down flat. His hands stay on your waist, seemingly unable to loosen their grip on your sides as he follows you down. He leans over over you, watching with wide eyes as you hike the bottom of your dress up so that it bunches up below your bust and out of the way. Your beautiful body is now on full display for him - soft, smooth, and well fed as his gaze feasts on the bounty now in front of him. His eyes lock onto your white lace panties, now practically translucent with how wet they are, but you steal his attention back with a quick call of his name. 
With his eyes now back on yours, you tilt the glass over you, pouring the wine into the divet of your belly button and letting it pool there. Some of the liquid spills over, tickling your skin as it runs out along your belly and sides. Immediately, his head is at your belly, catching some straying droplets before they can soak into your sheets before his lips suction over your belly button, licking into it and sucking out the sweet drink from its makeshift cup. 
Your fingers thread into his soft hair, locking into his fluffy curls, and when there’s no more wine to drink on your body, you push his head down further. His breathing is quick and excited as he allows you to push him down to your core, little pants of hot air hitting the drenched fabric of your panties as he peers up at you. 
“Please,” He breathes, and you can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips from the sight of him between your thighs.
“Go ahead and eat your meal, Coryo,” You say, leaning up on your elbow to watch him better. Your other hand casually keeps the still occupied wine glass upright and out of danger. “If you’re good, I’ll let you eat plenty more.”
He’s a good boy, you always knew he would be. Despite his air of confidence and ego he tries to emit daily at the Academy, you’re good at seeing through people’s disguises. Coriolanus is soft - a lost boy trying to find a place among the vicious sharks of Capitol people. 
Ready to follow your every command in hopes you deem him worthy enough to throw scraps to.
He licks over the lacy material of your panties, and you can’t help the deep shiver that wracks through your body at the tease. His nose presses against the lace, the tip brushing over where your clit sits beneath it before he hooks a finger under the material and pulls it to the side.
His tongue feels like silk against your drenched folds, the wet muscle flattening against your slit as it slides up the length of your pussy. His hands grip your thighs, using the leverage on them to keep you still as he circles your puffy clit. You briefly consider telling him to put his hands behind his back, just to add to the image of him serving you - being your ‘good boy’ - but the vision of him between your thighs, face finally pressed against your cunt where it always belonged, has you momentarily thrown for a loop.
He looks so pretty down there, blond curls messy where you had your hand in them. You’ve waited so long for this moment. Dreamed about how good he would look between your legs, disheveled and wanting as he begged you to let him eat you out. Begs you to grace him with the privilege of fucking you. And now here it is. The moment you’ve worked so hard for. 
And the payoff is gorgeous. 
His eyes are half hooded in pleasure, mouth licking and sucking greedily at your juices, moaning into your pussy like he was retasting the wine for the first time again. His moan vibrates through your entire body from where his lips are wrapped around your clit, more wetness leaking out of your soaking hole at the pathetic sound. 
You wonder what you taste like to him. Probably like honey.
The sweetest kind he’s ever tasted. 
“Do I taste good?” You ask, breathlessly. Coriolanus ignores you, seeming to not even hear you as he shakes his face against your puffy pussy, too intoxicated on your scent and taste for your words to penetrate through the fog clouding his mind. You grin, speaking louder to catch his attention. “Snow, eyes on me,”
Immediately, those baby blue eyes are focused on you and your breath catches in your throat in excitement. That’s right, gorgeous. Keep your eyes on me. 
“I asked if I taste good,” You repeat. 
Coriolanus nods, mouth never letting up on the suction around your clit as he hums out a little “mhm”. You squirm a bit, switching arms so your weight is being kept up by the elbow of the arm cradling the wine glass while your now free hand reaches out to nudge at his head to urge him down further. 
“Put your tongue in,” You demand, fingers gripping his curls again as you shove him down. “Fuck me with your tongue.”
His eyes flutter as he follows your instructions, ever the diligent student, and your mouth falls open at the feel of the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance before it pushes inside, spearing you open around the thick, wet muscle.
“Yes,” You moan, fingers leaving his curls to rub frantic circles around your pulsing clit. “Fuck me faster, Coryo,”
His fingers dig into the plush skin of your thighs, fingertips sure to leave bruises as he desperately pulls you closer, tongue digging as deep as it can into your depths as you clench around it. The coil in your belly tightens, pleasure ripping through you as you bite back the loud cry wanting to burst from your throat as the coil snaps and you cum on Coriolanus’s face, squeezing tightly around his tongue. 
You huff for breath, fingers still greedily rubbing at the sensitive nub trying to soak up every last shock of bliss from your orgasm, even as Coriolanus pulls his tongue from your insides, panting. His face is drenched in your juices - debauched and dirty because of you, and the sight alone makes you want to lock your fingers in his golden hair again and pull him back in for round two.
You sit up, listening to the desire to dig your hand into his hair, but instead of dragging him down again, you drag him up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before licking up the side of his face, tasting yourself on his skin as you clean him up. He’s still breathing hard when you get to his lips again, and your eyes meet his as you press small teasing kisses to his frowning lips. 
He’s confused, you can see it in his eyes. Can see the gears in his brain trying to make sense of what just happened and how he’s ended up in the position that he’s in. He’s thinking too much. Coriolanus Snow - always thinking himself stupid. And you're clearly not doing your job right if he’s still able to think after a session with you. 
“Hey,” You murmur against his lips. Your hand frees his hair, trailing down his chest and stomach before gently cupping the prominent bulge in his pants. A shocked puff of breath exhales harshly against your lips. “Just go with it.”
“Are you trying to distract me?” He asks, lips brushing against yours with each word. “Keep me from studying so you can with the prize money for yourself?”
“Oh, honey,” You giggle. “We studied plenty today, didn’t we? And besides,” Nimble fingers slide up the smooth line of Coriolanus’s throat, curling around his jaw as you kneel up, angling his face up towards you as you gaze down at him. “You won’t forget a single thing you learned today after I’ve finished with you.”
Your fingers dig into his jaw as you press another head spinning kiss to his lips, completely obsessed with the way they mold against yours, soft and yielding against your demanding mouth. When you pull back, it’s with a wild heat in your eyes that you can see reflected in his own. 
“Lie back,”
You watch in muted glee as he does, lying back flat against the sheets even as he scoots back further towards the center of the bed. Your legs move with him, following him back as you crawl over his sprawled out body, taking a small sip of wine as you settle on his hips. His cock pulses in its confines against you, pressed tightly against your soaked panties as you slowly rock your hips along the thick bulge. Pretty moans threaten to escape his lips, only muffled by sheer willpower to not open his mouth to let the sounds out to their fullest potential. His golden curls are unkempt, fanned out against your silk sheets like a halo, and you can’t help but think he looks like an angel like this.
An angel you can’t wait to ruin. 
“Hold this for me, won’t you?” You say, pressing the wine glass into his hand. He grabs it as if on autopilot, holding it up prettily with the stem between his middle and ring finger, like a proper gentleman. 
Impatient hands paw at his burgundy sweater, bunching the material up as far up as you can get it to reveal his long, skinny torso. Immediately, your mouth is on his skin, lips brushing lightly over his side, soft enough to tickle as they brush over the all too prominent ribs. You look up at Coriolanus, meeting his baby blues as he watches you kiss each individual bump along his side. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips parted as if wanting to say something, and you can only imagine the nonsense that could come out. He has to know that you know something’s up - normal, well-fed young adults don’t clearly have emaciated bodies like this. You have to admit, he’s done an admirable job at keeping the Snow family misfortune under the radar, but you’re not about to let his pride and ego get in the way of you and your prize. 
“It’s learning by association, right?” You say, cutting him off before he can form his excuse. You lick a long stripe across his belly, his very flat belly - warm breath fanning across the wet path as you pull back to speak again. “We’re in the classroom, right? And you’re stumped on a question. So you’ll look over the balcony and down one row to the left, where I sit, and see me sitting there all pretty and hard at work,”
Coriolanus lets out a shuttering sigh when you scoot further down his body, pressing another gentle kiss just to the right of his belly button. “You’ll stare at my glossed up lips, all shiny and tempting in the light, imagining them pressed against yours,” Another kiss to the opposite side. “And you’ll remember the date the Treaty of Treason was signed into effect.”
“F-fuck,” Coriolanus whines as you hold his hips, using your grip to keep him steady as you trail your kisses lower and lower towards the waistband of his pants. His cheeks are so flushed, red flaming at the pale skin even as he drags his hand over his face. He’s trying to hide - how adorable. 
“You’ll remember the various ecological disasters that brought about the creation of Panem everytime you think about my tits,” You continue, nibbling along his jutting hip bone. You draw a playful heart on his skin with the tip of your tongue. “About how soft and perfect they are,”
Your eyes drop down to the bulge straining in his pants, the dark material only made darker by the wet spot on them made from your own juices. 
“The five major economic benefits to a split District-Capitol government will pop into your mind whenever you think about how I tasted on your tongue,” Coriolanus moans desperately when you lick across his clothed erection, hips jerking despite your hold. 
Excitement fills your chest as you work the front of his pants open, quick fingers easing the zipper down over the thick bulge and working his gorgeous, gorgeous, oh so gorgeous cock free from its prison. You’ve waited a long time for this moment, and your greedy eyes don’t let it go to waste. 
His cock is every bit as magnificent as you knew it would be. It stands tall and hard, thick with the head already coated with precum as it springs out and slaps against his belly. He’s going to fill you up so good, fill you up until you’re so full you think you might just burst from it. You want it. You want it so badly that you almost hate that you’re going to make yourself wait for it. 
His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, body just barely trembling enough with nerves that you're able to see it through your own distraction. Your fingers sneak their way towards him, loving the way both Coriolanus and his cock twitch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around the heated length. 
“And when you need to remember which US states combined to make up the districts,” You breath, head lowering down, your breath fanning across his weeping tip. “Just think of my mouth sucking on your pretty cock.”
The sound he makes when your lips wrap around the head of his cock makes you want to laugh. It’s pathetic, a high-pitched gasp that rips from his throat as his back arches against the bed. But the taste of his precum coating your taste buds as you suckle on the reddened tip has you distracted. He tastes so good, so much better than you think is fair. He already invades your thoughts and dreams with his too pretty face and better-than-you attitude - he doesn't need to taste as good as he does on top of everything now that you’ve finally got him. 
There’s a moment when you consider reaching over to grab a spoonful of the whipped cream still sitting on the now forgotten tray. The food isn’t for you, it’s a means to an end - but there’s a part of you that can’t help but want to see what it looks like smeared against Coriolanus’s cock. You can picture it in your mind already, the flushed tip just barely hidden under the dollop of cream, the heated skin melting the topping just enough for it to start dripping down the sides of his cock before you can lick it all up. 
You don’t do it, not willing to part with the much tastier treat you’ve won. Your mouth stays happily in its place as you work your way further down his length, humming as his cock slides across your tongue and brushes the back of your throat. The sounds trying to erupt from him make you suck harder, sucking in your cheeks as you bob your head, tongue laving across the underside of his cock with each up and down motion, greedy to get its fill. His hand clasps over his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to muffle his moans of pleasure. A pang of irritation zips through you at the thought that even as he’s giving into you - giving you what you’ve always wanted - he’s still being a stubborn asshole and keeping you from fully enjoying your success.
Those sounds are yours. They belong to you. You deserve to hear each and every adorably pathetic whine and gasp that creeps its way up his throat. 
You’ve earned them.  
He’s trying, he really is, but even his palm can’t keep his tortured groan quiet when you press down just a little too deep, nose aiming for that soft patch of golden curls at the base of his cock but not quite making it there as your throat spasms around him - choking and gagging around the thick length as you use it to bully your own airway. 
Thick strands of saliva connect your mouth to his cock even as you pull off. Your hand strokes to make up for your missing mouth as you lean up, only pausing to press a couple of teasing kisses to the underside of the swollen head as you go. 
“Open your eyes,” You demand, waiting for him to comply before slowly teasing the tip of your tongue along the slit on the top, just to watch his eyelashes flutter as his pretty eyes roll back. The sight makes you grin, the smug pull of your lips present even as you sit up, hips straddling his thighs as you perch yourself up. 
Your nipples are so hard, pebbled and begging for his attention. You wish he could read your mind right now, so he would know to reach out and grab at them - squeeze your breasts in his large hands, message them and play with the tightened buds between his clever fingers. You wish he would pull on them, twist them enough to make you gasp and arch your back, and you’d reward him with tightening your grip on his cock, wrist twisting your palm around his tip in mimic of his own action. 
He doesn’t, of course, hand still clamped over his mouth like it is. Still muffling those pretty, clit-throbbing sounds that belong to you. 
Your right hand slides around his cock, using the copious amounts of saliva you left behind as a lube, spreading the wetness around his pulsing length and getting it nice and slick. His wet cock glistens in the overhead light of your bedroom, and, honestly - you never thought a cock could look so beautiful. Your other hand reaches out to grab Coriolanus’s wrist, yanking his hand away from his mouth so you can hear his sounds, undisturbed, as you jerk him off. 
“Stop that,” You hiss when he tries to pull his wrist from your grip. “Don’t hide them. Wanna hear you. Wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.”
“Ah-hmm,” he moans, wrist ripping from your grip. But he listens, and rather than going back to cover his mouth, his fingers twist into the silk sheets instead, bunching them up in his fist as he watches you with wild eyes. 
“Yeah, there we go,” You coo, fist stroking over his hot flesh as you work him faster. There’s a pearl of precum beading up on the tip of his cock, more pushing out the tighter you squeeze each time your fist gets to the top. Wet, slick sounds fill the room in time with your strokes, his pleasured moans cutting through the wet noises like a lewd symphony. “So much better, right?”
His thighs shake underneath you, hips stuttering and trying to buck up into your hold but the prison of your body weight on his thighs keep them pinned down. His moans turn into helpless blabbering - a endless string of ‘oh fuck, y/n, please, fuck, fuck–’.
The sound of him moaning your name sends a new gush of wetness into your already soaked panties. Your neglected clit aches for you to rub it, to grind the swollen nub on his thigh for relief - you think another wet spot on the dark trousers would look perfect. 
You double down on your stroking instead, your other hand curling around his hip to keep it pressed against the mattress as your hand speeds up on his cock. Every time the wetness making him slick starts to dry up, you add more, leaning down just a bit to let another long line of saliva fall from your wet lips and onto the red flushed tip of his cock. 
He’s so loud. The visual of you spitting on his cock is just way too much for his poor, inexperienced self to handle. The sounds coming out of his mouth are pure filth - hot and stomach clenching as you grin in satisfaction. It makes sense, you think. He’s loud and confident at the Academy, boisterous in his achievements as he speaks with a fake humility. It makes sense that he would be loud in the bedroom, unable to keep his voice down as he moans and whines like a slut. 
“So loud, baby,” You tease. The hand gripping his hip finds the forgotten food tray, two fingers dipping into the almost empty chocolate sauce bowl. “You’re distracting me. Shh,” 
Your fingers press into his open mouth, his lips automatically closing around your digits with a whimper. He sucks the chocolate off of your fingers like a good boy, eyes wide and wet making him look like he’s on the verge of tears. You want it. Want that push that’s going to make those pretty eyes spill out waterfalls over his flaming cheeks.
Just a little more.
Your hand moves faster on his cock, fist focusing cruelty on the top half of his shaft, palm twisting over the sensitive head with each stroke. The fingers in his mouth push back further and he gags, body jolting from the gag even as he moans around them again. The remaining wine in the glass sloshes from his jolt, but the crystal stays clasped between his fingers. 
And there they are: twin trails running from his red rimmed eyes. You coo at him while the overwhelmed tears become victims to gravity. Instead of trailing down his cheeks like in the image in your head, one trails across his temple and soaks into his hairline while the other pools up along the side of his nose - and your empty, aching hole clenches tightly around nothing at the sight. 
His cock throbs in your hand, hot and heavy as it twitches in the tight cage of your fingers, pretty red tip coated in a mixture of precum and spit disappearing and reappearing with each quick stroke of your fist. Fuck, you want it inside you so badly, want to feel him stretching you out. You’d make him cum within two seconds of being inside you, your pussy is just that magical. So warm and tight and perfect that men just can’t control themselves when they get inside of you - or so you’ve experienced with the other Academy boys who you’ve deemed worthy enough (although just barely) to have their moment with you. Poor pretty boy Coriolanus wouldn’t stand a chance. Frankly you’re shocked he’s even lasted as long as he has. You thought he might shoot his load in his pants while eating you out, although you’re glad he didn’t or this current playtime would have been unfortunately halted. 
He’s so close, just a hair away from falling apart in front of your eyes. And you’re so hungry - so hungry for him.
The whines are muffled around your invading fingers, but they’re a constant now, no time wasted between them as he babbles around your fingers. The words come out garbled, but they sound a lot like ‘I’m gonna cum, please, please, fuck’. So you giggle, light and airy as you breathe, “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me,”
You don’t want to stop touching him. It’s addicting, making him moan and cry for you with just a few practiced strokes from your hand. You’d never stop if it was up to you. But your hand stops stroking his cock the second his eyes roll back into his head, just keeping a firm grip on the base to keep it still even as his body shakes. His cock twitches for a second, reddened head glistening before the first spurts of his release shoot out of the tip. They travel far, dirtying his stomach and splattering the smooth pale skin with white, some even making it as high up as his ribs, just barely missing the burgundy of his sweater. He cries around your fingers and you're sure the lack of stimulation is absolutely killing him. But he made you wait. He made you stress and work hard and put in effort just to get him. He needs to be punished for his crimes against your ego and libido. 
He’s so pretty though, so so fucking gorgeous it makes you sick, and your willpower has just about been all used up. You stroke up his twitching length again, working him through the tail end of his orgasm, fist tightening and twisting at the top to milk out any lingering cum from the swollen tip. He’s still whimpering when you pull your fingers from his mouth, those same wet fingers moving to steal the glass from his hand, your eyes locking onto his as you finish the rest of the sweet drink in one last long victorious gulp.
Both of his hands find their way to you as his orgasm comes to an end, clutching at your thighs as the pleasure subsides but your movements don’t. He tries to push your hand away with a tortured groan, the stimulation becoming too much too quickly, but you easily slap it away. He’s weak, poor pathetic baby is too weak to make you stop - bones like jelly and brain still malfunctioning, no doubt. So you take advantage of all he’s worth even as you remove the circle of your fingers from around his cock and switch to palming the oversensitive flesh where it sits against his stomach. 
“Ha- fuck, y/n, s-stop p-please,” 
Your hand finally leaves his cock, choosing instead to wrap gently around his throat. Stop, he says? No. There’s no stopping now that you finally have him. 
“You want me to back off the Plinth Prize, Coryo?” You rasp. “You’re gonna have to earn it,”
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konigsblog · 5 months
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Priest Simon is doing THINGS to me oml
priest simon and his controversially filthy plaything
༉‧₊˚. blackmailing (DUB-CON)
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priest!simon who forces you to grip a rosemary while he ploughs into you, fucking deep into you while whispering a verse into your ear – usually something about submission and modesty, trying to convince you to convert to christianity and become a perfect thing for him to use.
“dirty fuckin' thing...” he mutters under his breath, the seducing and attracting lingerie he found you wearing ripped off your soft body and thrown into a corner to forget about. your cunny glistens and throbs around him, pulsing while you arch your back and beg to be forgiven for your sins.
priest!simon just couldn't believe that the christian girl who came to his church every sunday was a stripper, and he sure as hell was going to use it against you. just get on your knees and suck his thick, fat cock while he humilates you for being so, so naughty... he'll whisper verses from the bible while you take him down your sore and strained throat.
priest!simon who adores fucking you ruthlessly before going to church, his cum oozing out your cunt while he palms himself at the sight of you when you walk in. forgetting all about the morals he forced you to obey.
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oreosmama · 2 months
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We’re not gonna talk about how I wrote this instead of finishing part two of what’s in a virtue. We’re not even gonna talk about what this is. I’m just gonna… yeah, here ya go.
!Trigger warnings: dubcon
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Body swap au with soap who just wakes up one day and says, “no fuckin’ way.”
Soap who thinks it’s the best fuckin’ dream he’s ever had.
Soap who solemnly agrees with you in the mornings that yes, the two of you do need to work together to fix this as soon as possible, but who spends his nights in front of a mirror stripped down to nothing, masturbating because it’s fucking you, and you’re so pretty when you’re panting. Soap who was always convinced that making you come would feel just as good as coming himself, and now he doesn’t have to figure that out anymore.
Soap who, fuck, has his cake and eats it, too.
Soap who grins so proud at the awkward way you stumble around in his body, too big for you. Soap who, after discovering you’d had to——ahem——relieve yourself for the first time, feels his skin fucking buzz at the fact that you can’t meet his eyes, your eyes, anymore without a schoolboy blush spreading across his own damn face.
Soap who knows you liked what you saw.
Soap who makes your body come again that night, not even thinking of your body anymore, but of your mind fumbling around in his body, experimenting with touches and caresses. Soap who imagines you knowing how to pleasure him inside and out when this is all over.
Soap who records the sound of your voice saying his name, because the lines are getting so damn blurry, and emails the video to himself. Takes pictures, too.
Would never blackmail you with them, no, no, no.
But he deletes them from your phone after sending them all to his drive.
Soap who, after everything is over, after you’ve both found your ways into your own bodies, trots after you like the dog he is wherever you go.
Soap who, after you check the deleted folder of your photos app, gets a good and proper scolding.
Soap who managed to record the entire reprimand, listening to the anger in your voice, the how dare you do that to me——to my body?! That’s so fucked up, Soap!
Soap who rewards himself yet again that night, teeth gnawing at the hem of his shirt that he hadn’t bothered taking off, just pulling up high enough to jack himself off with his back against his front door. Panting at the dash he’d made up his flat’s stairs, then panting your name, whimpering disingenuous apologies to your chiding voice.
Soap who doesn’t stop, who won’t stop until he’s got the real you screaming his name.
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justadeadreaper · 2 months
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TW: Hair pulling, DUBCON, Manipulation, Crying, Sadistic tendencies, "Experiments", Being a "pet", Hinting at further actions/NONCON, Past kidnapping, Kidnapped, Please tell me if anything that should be put as a warning was not, thanks.
Being the pet of Angel!König is not the worst fate you could have found yourself in. On one hand, you were guaranteed a spot in Heaven for the rest of eternity, which was a fate that most people dream of, while on the other hand, it meant you were never able to see your friends or family again unless they somehow made the criteria to make it into Heaven but knowing them you thought it to be impossible.
He is nice, well, as nice as he can be for an Angel who keeps you as a pet.
The Common Angels that cared for you when he was busy were the ones to gossip, and they gossiped loudly. You knew the jist of why you were there even if you did not have all the details. Apparently, most of the First Heirarchy Angels, such as Seraphim and Cherubim, tended to have a fascination with humans even if they were to never to act on it like previous ones, such as Lucifer had done. And this included Angel!König, who was the most fascinated by humans out of them all; you did not know what he had gone, but he had done something which allowed him to be granted one gift by the Almighty, and unluckily Angel!König only had his eyes on one human out of all of the ones that resided on Earth.
That human just had to be you.
You had been stolen away in your sleep and dragged away to a palace. It was grand and incredibly vast. At one point, you thought it was larger than all of Earth as it seemed never-ending as you continued to walk through its many halls. It was made up of a collection of star matter, clouds, and gold to form its walls, ceilings, balconies, staircases, floors, shelves, and anything else you could think of. You could never get bored inside of it as every time you opened a door; it showed you a room that was filled with anything you wanted to entertain yourself. Most of the time, you found yourself reading in the library as not only were their books in there, but the fanfiction you also enjoyed reading had been formed into books, and many series that you had wished to have finished were fully finished even if it would have never been possible on Earth. Another point that made the palace a dream was how the kitchen was filled with food. Like how the bathroom and closets were filled with any clothes you wanted or skin care items needed, the cupboards, fridges, and freezers were all filled to the brim with all the foods in existence that never seemed to go rotten or end. You could make anything you wanted, but most days, you would just open the doors to the dining room to find a feast already prepared for you.
You did not think as to why a being like an Angel would have all of those things as they should not need them, but you tried not to think about it. You had learnt that it was better not to think of such things.
Overall, your life seemed great. You were trapped like a bird in a cage. No matter how appealing the cage was or how glamorous it was, you were still trapped, and there was nothing you could do about it. The only thing you could do was accept your new luxurious life, as there was no point in fighting back.
In return, all you had to do was appease your new master, which was not too hard. Angel!König did not ask for much when he was around you after doing the duties he was appointed to do. For his size, he was surprisingly gentle; he never tried to harm you, at least not on purpose or if he was not doing one of his experiments. He had a few simple rules that you had to follow.
One: No asking questions, but if you have to, not too many.
This rule was only implemented due to how you kept pissing him off by asking him too many questions and screaming at him for what he had done. He banned you from asking questions after that point unless it was necessary due to you being an utterly clueless human in Heaven.
Two: Always listen to him.
Not too hard as most of what he told you to do were simple commands, but when he did start ranting to you and telling you everything about the things he found interesting, which mainly was just about killing Demons.
Three: Always do what he wants you to do.
It was the one rule you hated the most, but he somehow always guilted you into complying by saying how he was just curious and wanted to learn as he had never met a human before.
Four: Be nice and compliant.
You wanted to fight back, and at times, you tried to, but you packed that in once he had brought a Demon back to show you and told you what terrible things they would do to a human like you. You also learnt the valuable lesson of not trying to test him that day when you saw how easily he crushed that Demon’s skull in his hand.
Five: Never try to escape.
Probably the easiest rule to follow as it was impossible to escape the damn palace anyway.
The rules most of the time were not a problem. It was his experiments that were your biggest problem. They were not even real experiments, it was just his excuse to be able to do what he wanted with you.
It started off small, nothing much really. All he asked was that he could play with your hair, he said that he enjoyed playing with it as the texture was so different from Angel hair and the material that made up their wings. It was simple, just him holding a clump of hair in his hand as he seemed to study it. He even enjoyed styling your hair and helping you through your care routine for it. But, it progressed. After a while, he began to tug and pull at it, you would cry and ask why but all he would say was that he wanted to see what would happen when he did it. That was when you learned about his sadistic side as he never stopped pulling your hair, he just loved to see you cry.
From your hair, it turned into touches. He would fondle and squish at your body as he made demeaning comments about how soft and delicate mortals were compared to Angels like him. It made you feel pathetic but at the same time, it was relaxing. The heat in his palms would radiate into your muscles, helping them to relax, getting rid of all the knots that tended to plague you. He made you melt into his arms, making you complacent putty in his hands. But those touches moved to more intimate areas. It started with him toying with your nipples, pulling at the delicate flesh until you choked on tears. Then soon enough his hand went lower finding your most sensitive part. He would rub it, the callouses on the tips of his fingers made the feeling somewhat odd but it felt all the better. He would rub, flick, pull, anything he could at it until you were a crying, overstimulated mess who could barely say your own name as the sheets were covered with your own cum; he would stare at you with glossed-out eyes, deep in thought like this was all new to him.
Unfortunately, you did not know that soon he would take it further then you could have guessed. It would be an actual experiment. One to make the perfect hybrid.
Taglist: @frogchiro @diejager @suimon @konigsblog
I am so sorry for not posting in a while I have just been busy with a big project that has taken over my brain and is my main focus, plus I have had exams. Hopefully, I can post soon and start posting the project, warning some of you may be emotionally devastated or want to kill a certain character (*cough cough* like two of my friends who already are waiting in line to have a little "talk", you know who you are *cough cough*). I may come back and edit this later.
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m-ayo-o · 5 months
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seeingdouble ɘldυobϱniɘɘƨ
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KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k
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⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction
18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES
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When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself. 
Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him. 
Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.
Toji became invisible, so did Megumi. 
He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money. 
Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.
This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use. 
But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.
Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it. 
As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.
But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.
⁺⋆
Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.  
A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.
“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.
His son is unresponsive. 
Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck. 
She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness. 
“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–” 
“Wait”
The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.
And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman. 
His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body. 
“Megumi. We need to go.”
His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more. 
Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time. 
So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.
Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.
And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.
Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.
You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.
Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.
But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.
Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.
His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile. 
How could there be two of him? One was already enough.
“Meet my son.” 
Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken. 
His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.
You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.
Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.
You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting. 
“Got a girlfriend?”
“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes. 
You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.
“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least. 
“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”
“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”
“You don’t work with the public?”
“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.
You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.
“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”
How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet. 
“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.
“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing. 
“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?
“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers. 
“You change your mind or something?”
“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”
So you nod and sit down.
He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.
Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.
His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.
“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms. 
You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.
[00:14] Toji 
Come over?
You’re surprised he’s asking. 
You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.
You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.
So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy. 
After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs. 
He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.
He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.
⁺⋆
Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.
“Can we tie her up now?” 
You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.
You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands. 
Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags. 
“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. 
Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic. 
His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move. 
You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.
You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.
“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”
“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.
“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”
He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.
You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.
You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.
“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.
Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.
He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.
He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.
He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.
“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.
“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”
His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.
He wants to taste you.
There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.
Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.
The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.
“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.
His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.
He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.
Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.
“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.
“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”
Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.
Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he’s going to do to you.
“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”
His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.
He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.
That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.
“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.
The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.
Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?
“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.
Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.
“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.
Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.
“Untie me…” you sniffle.
“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”
He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.
“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.
The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.
You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.
“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.
You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.
“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.
You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.
Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.
His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.
“S-s—” 
Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.
You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.
He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.
“You can’t do that to her.” 
You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.
Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.
He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him. 
Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.
“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.
Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.
You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.
His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit. 
“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.
However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.
And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness. 
Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation. 
The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.
“You ok, doll?”
He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.
“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”
“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.
“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”
Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.
You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.
“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”
You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.
Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.
You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.
Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.
You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.
You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.
“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.
You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.
You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.
“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.
But he pulls away too soon.
You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.
“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.
But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.
They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.
The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.
You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.
That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.
Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.
With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.
Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.
Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty. 
A sight that you will never forget.
Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.
So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.
They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.
You’re off the bed, you know that much.
You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.
“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”
You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.
He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.
You feel another body behind you. Megumi.
You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.
You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.
“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.
“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.
“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.
They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.
Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.
Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.
Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.
His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.
It captivates you.
Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.
Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.
“Watcha lookin’ at?”
“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.
He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.
Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.
“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.
You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.
He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.
Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.
He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.
Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.
His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.
“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.
“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.
You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.
Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.
“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.
You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.
⁺⋆
You wake to find your body bare, but clean.
There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.
You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.
You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.
But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine. 
Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.
So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.
“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.
You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.
You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.
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⋆⁺ [see you in hell]
toji | m.list
527 notes · View notes
carolmunson · 7 months
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in a dark, dark room (kas!eddie) (dark)
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inspo from this audio by eyesofsuggestion on reddit.
your boyfriend isn't as he seems. looks like someone else is along for the ride in his earthly vessel, someone you've never met but whose been dying to meet you. tw: 21+ and especially minors dni. this dark fic features dub-con and is not recommended reading for those who are sensitve to dub-con and non-con themes in fanfiction. this fic features: dub-con, blood play, blood drinking, rough p in v sex, choking, name calling, taunting, mocking, light smacking. pretty blatant monster fucking. read at your own risk.
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there is just so much blood.
you lay there, limp, feeling the sheets soak beneath you slowly. warm and thick, staining the floral pattern fabric, turning white roses red with little mercy. he leans down a second time, gasping with need, long tongue sliding over the puncture wounds in your jugular before sinking in again. you cry out, pushing at him desperately, making him growl with frustration when his hands come to hold you down by the bends in your arm. talons that have grown sharp and long bite into your skin with the same sting as his teeth.
"please stop," you choke out, haze gathering at the edges of your vision. you feel the rush of blood pull from your neck while he keeps drinking, breaking away to nose at your jaw and cheek. "please stop," he taunts back, tongue laving over you again, "can't stop, sweetheart. not when you taste so good." you try to brace yourself for his third bite down but it doesn't come. his lower lip drags over your skin, slick with slimy drool while his mouth becomes accustomed to the long fangs growing over his lower gums. he takes a sharp inhale, taking another break from his fill, pushing up on his arms where they hold you at the elbows. he smirks down at you, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight pouring into your room. this was not the eddie you were used to. sweet and mild mannered, always letting you take the lead. he bought you flowers on your second date and dinner on your third. soft and gentle in everything he did, warm to the touch. forehead kisses before bed. desperate for you. but not like this. "what's that face for, huh?" he asks, voice a deep husk, vibrating with something else -- something darker, "scared'a me?"
you nod with a whimper, weak with blood loss. you can feel your hot tears leak down into your hairline, over your ears. "m'gonna die ed," you croak out. "hmm," he hums with a tut, shrugging, "maybe. but you'll be alive for what's next." "well, barely," he smiles, teeth gleaming with blood and spit. he lets go of your arms when he knows you can move them, gouges left in their wake when he does. you aren't sure if there's any more blood left to let out. he shifts above you, pulling you to the edge of the bed when he stands over your broken form. what happened? you think. he'd come over like he always had. you made dinner together, watched creepshow, he complained about work, he told you about a show he had coming up. when you went upstairs tonight it wasn't uncommon for you both to fool around. you're used to him clinging to you, holding you, burying his face in your neck. it was when you heard the rattle of his breath and the flap of leathery wings that your eyes flew open to this -- to some monster.
you look at him now as he towers above you. the puncture in your neck pulses, the scratches on your body sting from when he pulled you down and held you in place when you tried to run away. gripping and grabbing to keep you under him until you succumbed, teeth sinking deep into you. "you miss him, huh?" he asks, the blue of his veins showing up under his tattoos in a maze. he parts your thighs, looking down at your naked core hungrily. his dark eyes flick up, catching yours, "you can't lie, i can hear you in there."
you nod again and it aches, stretching the holes over your veins. "aww, poor thing," he pouts, a finger reaching out to trace along your inner thigh. you shiver at the touch, cold and biting, "he misses you, too."
"who are you?" "i'm who he really is, honey," he coos, "your boy's just a cover. you think he came out of that accident without some screws loose?" you whimper when he touches the seam of your thigh, "at least he picks 'em pretty for me." you look down at your body, splashed with your blood and a sheen of sweat.
"if it makes it easier for your dumb little head to understand," he starts, taloned hand reaching out to smack lightly against your cheek, "let's just say i hitched a ride when he got out of hell."
"and baby," he says, suave and sure, "i've been so patient with wanting to get a taste of you. he's been putting up such a fight trying to keep me away."
you fade in and out, feeling him take your thighs in each of his hands to pull your flush to him. they run up over your hips, sliding over the stickiness on your skin.
"whining about how i eat girls like you for breakfast," he snickers and takes a beat, "actually -- he's not wrong. i do do that."
"but you've been on my mind, sweetheart," he nods, letting go with one hand while he reaches for his cock. your mind races when you see it, thicker than the one you're used to -- monstrous almost, "been really needing a toy to play with on this side."
"and you're just so easy, huh?" he says, brows tilting while he mocks you, "he'd do anything for you. can you do this for him? he knows just how you like it -- i can do that, too."
"eddie--" you rasp, arm weakly reaching up to push his hand away while a fingertip drags through your folds.
"please baby, call me kas," he grins with a smarmy flair, "eddie's my host's name."
"what is it, hm?" he asks, catching your gaze in his, "you don't want it?"
you shake your head no, eyes snapping shut when he drags two claws lightly over your cheek, over the tendon in your neck that he hadn't bitten through. they follow down over your collar bone, down your chest, your rib cage, the touch making your back arch up to him when he applies just enough pressure to make it sting.
his giggle is dark and deep seated in his chest, "i can see what you're thinking. you don't wanna like it -- but it looks like you're just beggin' for it, aren't you?"
his hand grips your hip, the tip of his cock sliding from the top of your slit to the bottom with steady guidance. he slides it again against the slick while it builds, body betraying you while arousal overtakes your fear. in the haze it could still be him, it could still be eddie.
"hm, he likes it when you're on top, doesn't he?" kas laughs haughtily, "loves looking up at you. what's he call you, again? oh that's right -- his goddess, his angel." "that's not how it's gonna go tonight, though, is it?" he asks, fat tip of his cock pushing in between your thighs, "no, you're gonna be my pretty whore. gonna be a good 'n' weak, needy toy for me."
"right?"
tears prick your eyes at the stretch of just his tip, unsure of how the rest of him will fit without ripping you apart. his hands come to your thighs, pushing them up against your sticky chest. you nod slowly, the rest of your body on fire with pain from his previous assault.
"m'gonna split you open," he nods, pushing in slowly while your walls stretch to accomodate him. your back arches with whatever strength you have left, whines and whimpers pouring out of your mouth. his claw sink into the fat of your thighs, blood pooling from the divots and dripping down over the meat of your ass.
"hmm," he hums while he pushes in to the base, "he loves this pussy. i can see why."
kas's thrusts start slow, claws digging into your skin with each slick squelch deep inside you. he leans forward, wings spreading behind him while he picks up a steady speed. his gaze is certain, tawny circles around his eyes making it seem like they're deeper set. he touch his cold, skin chilling you while he presses himself along your body.
"oh he let's you choke him out, huh?" he snickers, eddie's memories flicking through his mind like a rolodex, "he let's you tell him what to do? that's cute."
kas's clawed hand reaches up to curl around your throat, thumb narrowly missing the puncture wounds he left behind. with new leverage his pace quickens, "we're gonna fix that about you."
"you're gonna be," he begins, cock unforgiving in it's relentless punches in and out of you, "my pretty little courtesan -- hmm fuck -- you're gonna do what i say, when i say it. sounds nice, doesn't it?"
you whine, reaching for his wrist, weakly pawing at it before it lays limply by your side. 
"c'mon -- you don't wanna think anymore, do you?" he coos, "just wanna -- shit, yes -- wanna lay there and be my plaything." he readjusts, pushing one leg up so your knee hooks over his shoulder. the angle hits something in you that makes you desperate for more, a whiny moan pouring from your mouth. "oh there she is," he grins, "yeah, that's what you wanna hear huh? locked up and away so i can have you whenever. use you -- breed you." a needy moan escapes again, your body twitching alive while he pumps into you. your hips roll while he does, energy creeping into your veins, warming your skin. you're not sure how, not with all the blood you've lost -- but if this is what it costs to survive, you'd let him use you like this all night. "oh you nasty fucking bitch," he laughs, breaths huffing against your cheek, "dirty fucking girl, letting me all the way in. that’s what you want, huh? to get pumped full’a me? be a blood machine – hm?" "mmm ed, please more," you rasp out, needy for him to go deeper, harder. his grip tightens over your throat, your tongue lolling out in need for more air, "what's my name?" you choke out something inaudible, haze sliding over your vision again while he glares down at you. the pressure increases, blood leaking out from your jugular while he shoves you into the mattress. "huh?! what's my name?" "k-kas," you push out when he loosens his grip. 
"much better, sweetheart," he hums, "much better." he keeps you pinned down tight, cock drilling you into the sticky sheets. his hand creeps from your throat to the back of your head, ripping at your hair to pull you back so you'll face him. he doesn't blink, hard eyes staying on yours while he pummels into you without any signs of relent. he growls and grunts with each roll of your hips to meet his thrusts, almost proud that you're chasing your own pleasure while he takes his. his hard gaze falters when you reach up to run your fingers over his face. the touch is feather light, tracing the edge of his brow bone to the side of his cheek. you know eddie's still in there, you know this is partly him. kas's gaze softens for a moment and you swear eddie is looking back at you. you lean in, aching for a kiss, for something gentle amongst the horrific night you've had so far. "oh no, baby," he whispers, forehead pressing to yours. his ragged breaths mix with the wet squelches of him fucking into you, now as easy as if you've always taken him -- like you're used to his size.
"i don't kiss my toys," he hums, "that’s only for real mates." "and to be honest, sweetheart -- you're too pathetic for that."
your nearly pouty face is delicious to him, the hurt flashing through your mind feeds him as much as your blood has. he ducks down again to lick the dribble from your wounds, his wet tongue slippery over the sweat collecting there while he hovers over you. how can such a cold body make you so warm? "but you're so special to him," he gravels in your ear, "he loves you, doesn't he?"
"y-yeah," you whimper out. "well," he purrs, "that's too bad."
his speed quickens and your breath hitches, his body bends and contorts in a way that's nearly inhuman, fucking deeper and deeper into you with each painful snap of his hips. "you're all mine now," he growls, arm hooking under your waist to lift you up part way. your bottom half floats off the bed with his strength beneath you, so numb with pleasure you can't feel the way his claws dig into you again. you can't feel this teeth sink into your calf while he grinds into you, barely pulling out just to push in again. "m'yours," you squeak out, "m'yours, m'yours, m'yours -- oh god -- fuck, ohmygod fuck -- kas -- KAS." with a sudden burst of energy you reach up while the peak of your orgasm hits like a freight train, tightening hard over his cock. our nails dig into the cold skin of his forearms, over his tattoos, dragging down hard and tight. he sputters and smirks at the stingy pain of your clawing at him, the feeling spurring him on as he fucks you through your writhing release. "just like that," he huffs, droplets of blood flicking from his tongue onto your chest and sternum. his leathery wings tuck in to rest like hooks out of his shoulder baldes while he cages you in against the bed, eyes shut in concentration while he pumps in again, and again. with a final rough tug of your hair you hear and feel his guttural release. the only warmth from him being the sticky seed that he spills inside of you, cold mouth clamping down again on your neck for a final taste before his release comes to a close. you're back to laying limp on the bed. spent. he looks over you, growls and grumbles in his breath, clicking and seething -- this must be his natural state. "well weren't you fun," he grins, sick but sweet, "i'll have to try you again." you whimper, unable to move this time, to think, to breathe. "but i think i you taste better a little scared," he nods, "gotta make sure you forget this so you can struggle like you did tonight. that's -- oh sweetheart, it's just delicious." when your eyes meet his again you can't look away, not that you'd want to -- he's beautiful like this. hair long and brushing his built shoulders, skin so pale it's nearly blue, eyes dark and glittering with angry satisfaction. eddie who? you think. "adorable," he says smugly when he hears it in his head, "don't worry, i'll let that pathetic weakling have you back. he's miserable in here right now." you don't know if it's hyponosis or the exhaustion from losing so much of your blood supply, but sleep comes quickly -- fading out while he holds your gaze, words you don't understand filling your ears and thoughts -- latin maybe? you couldn't guess. you're just so comfortable. so tired. and the bed is so soft, so warm. you have to sleep, right? you've been asleep this whole time.
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you wake up in the morning feeling tired, mouth dry and tangy. your joints ache, your stomach rumbles. you look over on your nightstand to two empty bottles of wine, two empty glasses next to them. when you sit up you look down, seeing that half of one of those bottles never made it to your lips -- your stained sheets shine back a purple red in your eyes. with a groan you turn over, sinking back into the covers, feeling the warm body of your boyfriend next to you. his dark curly hair pulled up in a ponytail, splayed across the pillow. the night is hazy: dinner, creepshow, wine, kissing. when you both got upstairs you were tipsy -- you vaguely remember the spill of the wine, the drunk giggles, the way his mouth tasted like aged cabernet. both falling asleep before you could take it any further. he stirs next to you, smiling when he sees you with a rub of his eyes. "morning, angel," he says in a yawn. "morning," you sigh, running a hand over your neck to rub at the muscles there -- aching and tense. "you okay?" he asks, turning over to face you, two fingers tracing over your cheek. "yeah just -- i think i slept weird," you shrug, "i'm definitely hung over." eddie laughs, "me too."
"we didn't -- we didn't fool around last night, right?" you ask, "we both knocked out pretty early." "i remember spilling the wine and then both of us saying we'd deal with it in the morning," he sniffs before stretching out, "and then i think i fell asleep in the wine stain." you giggle, feeling his arms wrap around you. warm body against yours, he kisses you soft on the forehead, "you look pretty." "thank you," your sleepy smile makes him smile back. "you know what i'm in the mood for?" he asks, "such a weird craving but they knock a hangover right out of me." "hm?" "a bloody mary," he says with raised brows, like he's surprised with himself, "i think i got some stuff downstairs to make them." "i'm not really into bloody mary's," you say with a scrunched nose. he offers you another kiss on the forehead before slowly climing out of bed. he shrugs looking down at you, pulling on his abandoned pair of boxers from yesterday, "hm, suit yourself. more for me then." when he snaps the band at his hips, you notice it. even sets of scrapes down his forearms toward his watch, your brow quirks, "hey, what happened to your arm?"
he looks down, and at first you think you catch a flicker of a smile before it turns into a confused frown, "weird...i don't know, sweetheart." he looks at both arms all the way around before turning to look at you, almost coolly, "maybe we did fool around."
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whoreish-behaviour · 1 year
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Can you handle that?
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If you haven't watched Scream 1996 (how?!) please pleasee go watch this scene - (Timestamp 3:25 specifically) :))
This is like a modern version.
Part 2
Ghostface x Fem!Reader
Warnings ; dubcon, coercion, voyeurism, guided masturbation, phone sex?, slight overstim
The popcorn popped gently in the background as you endlessly scrolled through your phone, looking for any horror movies that peaked your interest.
Boring.
Predictable.
Wayy too gory.
Dropping the phone onto the counter, you huffed in annoyance as you rested your head on your hand. The popping sound filled the otherwise silent kitchen, the house being empty of its usual life.
You raked your brain for ideas now you were finally alone. And now that you thought about it more, it had been a while since your hands traced your body as you dived head first into self-please.
Yeah, you knew exactly what you were going to do.
The thought alone already had your thighs squeezing together.
Just as your were turning to shut off the stove, your phone vibrated below you. Eyebrows furrowed, your eyes scanned the name.
No Caller ID.
Shrugging, you picked up the phone without a care and pressed the little green button.
'Hello?'
'Hello.' An unfamiliar voice responded back.
'Yes?'
'Who is this?' Hadn't he called you first..?
"I think you have the wrong number.' You pursed your lips.
'I don't think I do and you didn't answer my question.'
His suddern steriness made you nervous and your thighs shudder.
Jesus, had it really been that long?
'I think I’m gonna go, you definitely dialed the wrong number. See you.' You announced quickly and before he could even speak two words, you hung up.
Before you could even place the phone back on the counter, it vibrated again in your hand.
You hesitated on pressing 'answer', however your curiosity about what he wanted grew stronger until eventually you caved.
'Hello?' You hoped he didn't hear your voice quiver.
'We weren't finished talking, were we sweetheart?' The nickname made you swallow thickly and clench your fist.
'I think we definitely are now.' You tried to sound stern, not wanting some man over the phone to think he had any kind of control over you.
'Hang up again and you'll regret it.'
"Fuck I will." You argued back before doing exactly what he told you not to do.
You tossed the phone on the counter, before turning your back to it completely. Sure, he had shaken you but that was exactly what he wanted.
It was probably just an ego boost for him to freak woman out over the phone, picturing their scared faces in their own homes.
Fucker.
The phone vibrated consistency where it laid, however you stared mindlessly at the ceiling, cursing out the universe for ruining the mood.
You began to chew your nails, his words ringing in your head.
You'll regret it.
An incoming text made your ears prick, looking over your shoulder and down at the device. The text made your heart jump against your ribs.
Unknown Number - Answer the phone.
Unknown Number - Now.
The text didn't hold any explanation marks but you knew that he wasn't fucking around anymore. Your stomach sank as your ringtone yet again rang out.
Last chance, before what? You didn't know.
The phone was in your hand again, thumb pressing down on the screen as you brought it up to your ear.
'Whats got you all nervous over there? Never had a punishment before hm?' His implication made you shived with fear.
He couldn't see you, could he..?
'Or maybe its just because you haven't touched that sweet cunt of yours in a while..' You gasped out loud, pure shock and heat blooming on your face.
'You sick fuck-'
'Ah ah, thats no way to talk to me sweetheart.' He scowled, voice deep and dripping with dominance. Against your better judgement, your core responded.
'What do you want?" Your voice was quiet, all confident gone.
"I just wanna play a game is all.' His tone almost mocked you, as if you had no reason to be terrified.
'What kind of game?' You body shrink as you waited for his response. He seemed to think about it for a second, the silence killing you softly.
'It involves you taking off them soaked panties and sitting your pretty self on that counter for me.'
You froze as he once again rendered you speechless. You hand holding the phone shook as your mouth ran dry.
'Can you handle that?' He teased.
You didn't know what to be more disturbed by: his request or that your body throbbed in response. Theres no way you wanted this..right?
Would that make you just as bad as him?
You gulped, looking at all the windows - wondering if you'll see a glimpse of his shadow. That was if he was even watching you.
'Quit acting so modest, you think I haven't noticed that little stunt you've been pulling with them thighs of yours.' He almost whispered as if it was a dirty taboo thing (it was).
''I don't kn-'
'Now sweetheart.'
You don't know what possessed you. Maybe it was his veil of seduction or just your horniness but you found yourself thumbing at the band of your panties.
Would it be so bad? To have a stranger watch you touch yourself? It sounded like some corny porno.
'If you don't move within the next 2 seconds, I'll come tie you to the fucking table myself.' His voice dropped, his frustration becoming evident.
And that was more than enough for you to clamber up onto the cool marble, contrast to your hot clammy skin, hands already working your underwear down your sticky thighs.
It dropped to the floor with a disgustingly wet slap! You grimaced as you picked your phone up once again.
'Look who's finally behaving herself. Put me on loud speaker and face the patio window.' You heart beat up against your ribcage as you did as you where told.
'Mhm, look at youu.' He dragged out the 'you', adding a playfulness to the tension building. You shivered as his statement solidified that was he indeed watching you.
'Now spread those pretty thighs for me, let me see the mess I made.' You felt yourself drip even more as each word left his mouth.
You gently lifted your legs - feet resting on the counter with you and spread your knees apart.
The cold air against your pussy made you whimper as you clenched around nothing.
'Fuck, I knew you were a slut.' He groaned and you almost moaned right back at him from the sound alone.
'Trace them beautiful thighs for me sweet.' He spoke low and stern.
Your right hand trembled as you ran it down your stomach, across your hip and finally to your thigh, your left hand staying behind you to support your body.
You allowed just the every tips of your fingers to run across your skin, nerves making them shake slightly.
'Mhm good girl. Now get closer.'
You did, your whole body shaking from anticipation as your nails grazed where you need it most. Everything felt wet and you whined at the lack of stimulation.
'You need it that bad huh pretty girl? Go on, touch that pussy.' He pushed and you wasted no time.
You first ran your fingers down your slit, collecting that sweet arousal until it coated your fingers. You then moved up to your clit, rubbing your clit in quick circles.
'No, no - slower. Can't have you coming too quick, can we?' He tutted, redirecting you before you got too carried away. You moaned in response but obeyed nevertheless.
Your fingers slipped every now and then as your whined and moaned into the quiet again. The man on the phone encouraged you continuously, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.
'Good fucking girl.'
'Keep rubbing that puffy clit for me. That's ittt.'
'I can see you dripped down on the fucking table - you're so desparate.'
The only words that left your lips were 'Please' as you threw your head back, rubbing your clit harder until he scolded you to slow down once again.
'If you need it that bad, put a finger inside that tight cunt and fuck yourself 'till you cum.' You almost cried out in happiness as you slid your hands lower, a single finger entering you.
'Fuck I can hear that sloppy pussy through the phone, put me closer.' You responded with a quiet 'okay' and moved the phone closer to in between your legs.
'Go on, fuck that cunt.' He ordered and your once again threw your head back, moving your finger faster.
You curled your middle finger up against your G spot until you felt that pit in your stomach built up once again. This time you didn't care what he said, you were going to make yourself come.
You also slid your left hand in and rubbed your clit, your coordination slightly off but you didn't care, it was working.
'Come for me pretty girl.'
That was your final straw as your felt everything you had built crumble between your legs. Your hips bucked up against your own hands and you dropped back flat against the surface below you.
'Move your hands sweet girl, let me see.' He cooed at you and you did as you were told, bringing your hands up to rest on your chest.
'Fuck, your rubbed your poor pussy raw babe.' He faked sympathy but you were too busy trying to catch your breathe.
'But don't get too comfortable. Keep going.' You froze.
'W-What..?'
'You heard me, sit up and. Keep. Going.' He ordered and you couldn't even splutter a response. You back ached as you sat up, thigh trembling and twitching.
You slid your hand down, soaked with you arousal, back down to your pulsing core.
However, as your fingertips came in contact with your clit, your hips bucked away as the painful surge of overstimulation shocked through you.
'I-I cant.'
'You can.' He instantly spoke back, 'I wanna see you come from those pretty fingers again.'
You decided to leave your clit and slide lower, reentering your middle finger into your quivering core. But even then, you flinched away from sensitivity.
'It's too sensitive.' You whined, retracting your hand away completely.
It went quiet for a bit and you gulped, scared you had somehow pissed him off. Even though you had been good for him, all things considered.
'Fine,' You breathed out a sigh of relief and rested your head back.
'I guess I'll just have to do it myself.'
You bolted upright, uncomfortable as your pussy slid against the now warm counter.
'What did you just say..?'
'I'll give you a 5 minute head start, go hide and if I don't find you - you get off scot free.' He said, 'I promise not to peek.' his voice light and airy while you choked silently.
'But-'
'5 minutes.' He said before he hung up.
Please do not steal, copy or translate my work
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red-writes · 1 year
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Yandere x virgin darling
Mha yanderes x virgin darling
Content warnings: dubcon/noncon, coercion, manipulation, grinding, some smut.
Red’s note: none of them are very nice lmao but I cant say I hate it
DEKU:
Izuku knows everything about you. He knows your shoe size, what allergies you have, he even knows what foods give you the runs. He knows you’re a virgin and uses the fact against you. Izuku wants you to want him, he won’t touch you until you’re ready but he’ll force you to be ready. What he does is so extremely manipulative, he shows off his body around the house more and more. Starting off with with no shirt, then no pants and he’s just in underwear, fat bulge pressing against the tight fabric and he knows you’re looking. He knows your cute legs are pressing together and rubbing together whenever you see him. He even ups the ante by touching you so gently, so innocently. Simply leaving his hand on your thigh for a little too long or cupping your cheek and leaning in almost until your lips touch only to back off and give you a cheeky little grin. He knows it’s becoming too much for you and he’s right, one night after he comes back home from work you sit him down and confess you’re ready to have sex. Just like he planned. You’re such a good, easy girl.
BAKUGOU:
Katsuki isn’t as nice as deku is. Best believe since he’s locked you up in his high rise you’ve been getting toyed with every night. It goes like this: he comes home from work, showers, spreads your legs and eats you out up until you’re about to cum then pulls away and turns over bidding you a good night. It’s extremely frustrating, every night it’s the same thing, your silly little brain always hopes to achieve that high but you never do and it leaves you feeling unfulfilled and Katsuki knows it. He can see it in the way you pout and whine once he pulls away from your soaked pussy, he sees it in the way you grip his shirt and beg him for more deep and intense kisses than the one usual peck. Katsuki is so intricate in his plan he trains your body to not even feel pleasure from masturbating anymore, the only thing you can feel good from is him and it all comes to a head one night where you sloppily grind your hips down on his lap and plead for him to fuck you.
TODOROKI:
Shoto is so gentle with you. He, unlike Bakugou and deku, is completely content with not having sex. He truly just loves being around you everyday and he could die happy just being able to live a little domestic life with you. The issue comes with you and your needs. He’s very dense, even though he meticulously plotted out your kidnapping he can’t seem to pick up on social cues that well and so he doesn’t realize when you’re feeling flirty or needy or anything like that he puts it off as you finally coming around to him rather than you needing to be fucked within an inch of your life. His unawareness is mistaked by you for refusal or disinterest so you turn to self-pleasure. In shoto’s case, he finally gets the message when he comes home early one night to surprise you only to find you masturbating with his hero costume against your nose, inhaling his musk. It’s a filthy sight and yet Shoto gets harder than he’s ever been in his life and proceeds to take your virginity with so much care :( it’s kinda cute until he keeps you up until 4am giving you creampies.
KIRISHIMA:
Kiri is extremely patient with you. You were scared off from sex after seeing how big he was but Kiri has a plan to help you get over your fear, after all he always gets what he wants and what he wants the most is you, all of you. Kiri’s plan involves making his size seem manageable and less intimidating. He sits you on his lap, pants off as you slide his length between your pussy lips. Fat tip pressing up against your clit causing you to shake and moan and he loves it. He's eating up every whimper, cry and mewl you make. He lets you cum as much as you want on his fat dick, so much so you tire out and he has to carry you to bed. It’s only a matter of time before you get tired of creaming on his cock like that and you’ll want it inside instead. So he isn’t shocked, although he pretends to be, when you’re hovering over his cock, slowly sitting down on it as your legs tremble from the burn his size is giving to you. 
SHINSO:
Contrary to Shinso’s quirk, I think he wouldn't use it on you in order to take your first time (although he will in other circumstances), he isn't a monster, he thinks it's hotter if you came to him desperate and horny but he knows that as it stands you aren't going to so he’ll give you a little help. He’ll sit you on his lap with nothing on while a video of two people fucking plays on the big screen in front of you. His fingers will find your nipples and squeeze them, his lips will kiss your neck and suck bruises onto the skin. He’ll spread your legs and play with the wetness between your legs before you beg him to finally make you cum and he will. He’ll use his fingers to circle your clit under you head is tossed back against his shoulder and your panting as you get nearer and nearer to your orgasm and he’ll make you cum hard. But after that he expects you to return the favor and unfortunately he's past the limit where he’ll take no for an answer 
MIRIO:
Mirio is just convinced that unless you fuck him you don't actually love him, out of everyone his delusion is definitely the worst. He’ll reach his limit of you not loving him very fast and he’ll definitely push you up against a counter and grind against you whilst whispering the most insanely filthy things to you. It’ll be impossible to get out of his grip and eventually he’ll shuck your pants down and  give himself a pussyjob until he’s satisfied with the feeling of your gooey cunt on his cock. Mirio is an insatiable man. Pussyjobs lead to titjobs, forcing you to push together your chest to make a makeshift pussy for him to fuck his cock between. 
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eddiexfreakxmunson · 2 years
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Pairing: Eddie Munson x F! Reader
Genre: smut, reader has nipple piercings, Pervy!Eddie
MDNI
TW: NON-CON, DUB-CON, somnophilia, smoking, cursing, dry humping, masturbation (male), Eddie is a virgin and a perv; IF YOU DON’T LIKE THESE, DON’T READ THIS PLEASE!
Word Count: 3,055
Summary: Most of the time Eddie can keep his hands to himself when he’s around you, his childhood best friend. But as you both grow older, his restraint is tested. What’s a guy to do when a golden opportunity to finally get a taste of you presents itself to him in the form of a tiny cut shirt?
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Eddie nearly has a conniption when he sees you've cut the old band t-shirt he let you have.
When you'd gone hiking around Lover's Lake earlier in the week, and he'd 'accidentally' thrown you into the water in your white shirt, he'd offered up the spare in his van as a peace treaty, eyes glued to the pretty pink bra you'd been wearing underneath, even as he had apologized profusely for getting you soaked, knowing he wasn't sorry at all.
He doesn't even think about it after that. If he was honest, he'd admit that not much else consumed his brain than how fucking good your tits looked with the white cotton of your shirt sticking to them, how pretty the color of your bra contrasted against your skin, how badly he'd wanted to strip you down right there.
He'd never let you know how often he thinks about you like that. Couldn't risk ruining a friendship that had endured years of school and countless boyfriends and girlfriends that had come and gone. It was always just the two of you, and he liked it that way.
But he's still a man, and he'd have to be blind to think you weren't utterly gorgeous. And utterly unaware of how badly he wanted you under him. Naked, preferably crying out his name.
It's nights like these that ease that ache a little bit. On weekends when your parents are out of town, he can come spend the night like he used to, back when you were both in middle school. With your parents gone, he's allowed to share your bed, your warmth and smell surrounding him, driving him crazy.
It's not without its repercussions, though. More often than not, Eddie wakes with your ass pressed against him, a result of all the tossing and turning you do in your sleep, and he has to fight back the urge to give in and wake you up with his cock sinking into you.
Most mornings, all he allows is a few shallow ruts against your ass, biting his fist to stifle his groans before he's rolling out of bed to fuck his fist in your bathroom, knowing that you're in the next room, so close but so fucking far.
He's laying in your bed, enjoying a cigarette when you roll off the bed, mumbling about having to wash your face and change into pajamas before falling asleep.
He doesn't even really realize at first; he's just happy to sneak a peek at the muscles in your back and shoulders contracting as you pull your blouse over your head and drag his gaze over your body- the closest he's ever going to get to having you the way he wants.
It's not until you've turned around that he recognizes the worn gray shirt, only now it's cropped, the sleeves and most of the armpit also cut out into a make-shift cropped tank top. He sits up straighter at the sight, annoyance rolling through his body.
Sure, he said you could have it, but he didn't say you could destroy it. He's about to tell you as much when he stops short, watching you lean over to grab your pajama bottoms, and catches a complete side view of your breast for a split second as the fabric hangs off your shoulders from your position.
He can't help the way his cock jumps at the sight, and his mouth goes dry, eyes glued to your tits. He's positive you don't know how much you're revealing as you straighten again, giving him a look.
"What?"
"Nothing. Shirt looks good." he's quick to respond, blinking away his hungry expression as you give him a sweet smile and pad into your bathroom.
As soon as you're out of view, the calm facade drops again, and his mind is whirling. Sure, he's seen you in swimsuits and bras, and that one time in the rearview mirror when you had to change quickly, and he couldn't help himself from looking.
He knows it's wrong. Knows it's messed up how often he fucks his fist to the thought of you, of your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, the pretty sounds you'd make if he--
"Hello? Earth to Eddie?"
He snaps back into focus to you standing right next to him, eyebrow raised. "Huh?" it's a real intelligent response to your question, and he's quick to shift around, so you don't see the tent growing in his jeans.
"I said, 'are you gonna sleep in that?'" you huff, gesturing to his dark jeans and long sleeve shirt.
"Oh. Uh, no, but I'm probably not gonna head to bed yet," he admits, shifting uncomfortably. "Probably gonna shower first." He adds, knowing there's no way he'd be able to sleep with the hard-on he's currently sporting.
You shrug, crawling onto the bed and his heart nearly leaps into his throat when you slide a thigh over his lap, momentarily pressing directly against his cock before you're gone again, sliding under the covers on your side of the bed.
"Do whatever you gotta do, but I'm going to bed, so just turn off the lights when you're done, okay?"
All he can do is mumble out an okay, practically sprinting to your bathroom, the image of your bare thighs caging his lap running around his head.
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Sleep tugs at him when his eyes flutter open in the morning, the warmth of your legs tangled with his luring him back to sleep. He almost gives in, lets himself relax, and drift off again when his eyes adjust to the dim morning light, and he's greeted with a sight that makes his heart stop and his half-hard cock twitch.
Your shirt rode up in the night. Not like it usually did, with the planes of your stomach in clear view, but far higher thanks to how it was cut. You're still sleeping softly, lips parted slightly as you breathe, your hair falling over your face.
On a typical morning, he might allow himself to push your hair behind your ear and run his thumb over your bottom lip, just to imagine what they might feel like against his skin. But today, he's not interested. Not with the way he can see the curve of your tits so easily, the darker color of your areola poking out from beneath the gray fabric.
His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, taking his time to try and commit the sight to memory when you shift slightly, your shirt flashing more of your skin and then something darker before the fabric settles again.
His eyes widen with the realization of what he just got a glimpse of, and his resolve crumbles, curiousity making him bolder. He reaches out a shaky hand, fingertips softly clutching into the grey fabric as he tugs it upwards, careful to ensure he doesn't wake you.
"Holy fuck," he hisses when he's pushed the shirt up over your breasts, eyes glued to the dark bars that pierce your nipples. How had he not known about those? Why hadn't you told him?
For a moment, he wracks his brain for a time when you could've gone and gotten them done without him knowing, watching how your chest rises and falls with each breath.
He wants to feel them. Wants to roll them between his fingers, circle them with his tongue like he's seen men do in the porn he's bought. Until now, he'd been convinced that only porn stars would pierce themselves like that, but here you are. In his shirt, in bed with him. He bites his lip, warring with himself for a moment.
You're his best friend. He shouldn't even be looking at you like this. Shouldn't even be considering touching you. But then you let out a pretty little huff, eyebrows drawn up in your sleep, and shift closer to him, the underside of your breast brushing across his knuckle resting between your bodies, and he can't help himself.
He grazes his hand against your skin, letting his fingertips explore, watching with interest as goosebumps raise on your skin in his wake, watching the way your nipple pebbles at his touch. Your skin is just as soft as he expected, a rugged contrast to the callouses that line his skin from years of guitar playing.
His fingers ghost higher until he's cupping the weight of your breast in his hand- a perfect fit, like you were made just for him- and he pushes the boundary a little bit more, heart racing as he swipes his thumb slowly over your nipple.
Your reaction is instant; he jumps, hands immediately falling from your body when you let out a muffled sigh, pressing your chest further into his hand. He's carefully watching your face, hands pressed against the mattress for a moment, afraid you'll hear the pounding in his chest and wake up.
But you don't. If anything, a slight frown settles over your features, and he wonders if, just maybe, it's at the loss of contact.
"You awake, pretty girl?" he murmurs quietly into the darkened room, listening for any response or change in breathing, reaching forward again. He's more confident this time, forgoing any more soft touches to run his fingers over your nipple again, making sure to run the pad of his thumb over the smooth metal adorning them.
The whine you let out at the stimulation has his cock straining against his sweats immediately, and he bites back a groan. "Fucking knew it." he breathes, repeating the motion, firmer this time, relishing the way you lean into him. "Knew I could make you feel good,"
For a moment, guilt seeps into him as he leans forward, freeing his other hand to press your tits together, blowing air over your skin, but then your hips shift towards him, and another whine slips from your lips.
"I've gotcha, pretty girl, don't worry," he soothes, pressing a soft kiss along the curve of your breast, his tongue slipping out to slide over your skin, leading a trail up to your nipple where he presses the pad of his tongue against it and licks a long stripe.
At that, you moan, voice muffled by sleep, but it's even sweeter than he ever imagined, all those nights he spent cumming into his fist to the thought of you.
His cock is aching, begging to be freed, and he's sure there's a stain on his sweats from where he's dripping pre, but he doesn't care. Not when he's pulling those sounds from you with just his tongue. It makes him wonder what he'd be able to do to you with his cock.
He'd be lying if a sense of pride didn't fill him at the realization. He was by no means experienced in bed. The closest he'd gotten was the girl he'd briefly dated last summer who'd given him head in the back of his van. Even that had been short and clumsy. But now, here with you, he was getting your unfiltered responses to his touch and his mouth, and if the way you pressed into him was any indication, you were enjoying yourself.
He uses the way he's pressed your tits together to his advantage, tilting his head to give your other nipple the same attention, latching his mouth over it and swirling his tongue over the peak, careful to make sure your piercing is involved, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin.
It's wet and sloppy, and a line of drool connects his lips to your flesh when he pulls back, admiring how your skin shines with his saliva. You're openly whining now, your thighs clenched together as your hips shift, searching for friction, and he crosses a barrier he'd never dared to before.
He releases your breasts with one last kiss over the sensitive skin before slipping his knee between your legs, sliding it higher until his thigh is so close to your clothed cunt, he can feel the heat radiating off you.
He has a moment of clarity, guilt filling his veins as he glances up at your face, completely unaware. And then you press yourself right against his thigh, and it disappears in a single moment as you rut yourself against him, mouth parted in a drawn-out moan at the friction.
"Fuck, sweet thing," he grits out, feeling how damp your pajama bottoms are, even through the thick cotton of his sweats. He shifts his knee higher so you don't have to work as hard, and a sharp cry falls from your lips at the sloppy contact with your clit.
He's mesmerized by the way your hips shift and grind against his leg, using him to get off in your sleep, a dark patch appearing on his pants where you're working yourself against him. He can't help but wonder if you'd move the same in his lap, his cock buried balls deep inside you. Your sharp cries cut through his hazy thoughts, dripping like honey from your lips as you alternate between whining and panting.
It's too much for Eddie. First, you prance around in his fucking shirt, cutting it so goddamn short that he gets the perfect view of your tits, and now this. How is he supposed to watch you get off so up close and personal and just lay there? He lifts his hips, slipping his sweats down just low enough to free his cock, the tip an angry red color. He doesn't bother to quiet the groan that bubbles up when he finally grips his base, his balls full and begging for some release.
"Got no idea what you do to me, princess," he grits out, pumping himself as he watches your face contort in pleasure, lips forming a pout that's just asking to be kissed as he jerks himself, circling the tip of his cock tightly and using his pre to slide his hand down his length easier.
"Betcha my cock would feel so much better than my thigh," he rasps quietly, noting the way your hips have sped up, how your moans are longer, higher, sweeter now.
He knows how dangerous it is to risk waking you now, with his cock in his hand and his thigh wedged up against your pussy, but he takes a chance anyways, angling his thigh, so it bumps against your clit with every pass of your hips.
"Not gonna last much longer," he warns, despite the fact that he's pretty sure you're close too if he's reading your body language right. "Got me feeling like a fucking perv all the time, can't believe I'm actually doing this," he pants, speeding up his movements, feeling that coil in his stomach tighten.
"Wanna see you fall apart humping my leg first though, princess, come on. Let me see, please," he pleads, his sentence drawing off into a pitiful whine as his hips buck into his hand. "Tryin' to be a good friend all the time, just wanna feel that pretty pussy one. fucking. time." he grits out, teeth clenched to suffocate the moans he's sure would wake you.
He's getting desperate, the realization that you could wake up at any second dawning on him, and he reacts on impulse, slipping a hand between your cunt and his thigh.
His fingers catch your clit immediately, and you jerk against him, back arching as you let out a sharp cry, your movements getting sloppy. He matches his strokes to the roll of your hips, tears springing to his eyes as he tries to keep his orgasm at bay to keep watching you come apart.
It only takes a few more rolls of your hips before your body is tensing, thighs shaking as you let out a choked sob in your sleep.
"Fuck, Eddie!"
The sound of you crying out his name as you cum against his palm is enough to send him over the edge, eyes wide as his orgasm hits him out of nowhere, the planes of his stomach tightening as ropes of his cum coat his hand, dripping down onto the sheets below him.
"Jesus H. Christ," he pants, a bead of blood rising on his lip from where he bit it to keep from crying out. He peels his eyes open to see the mess in the sheets and pulls back in panic, carefully pulling his hand and thigh away from you.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit." Eddie curses, quickly tucking himself back into his sweats as he scoots away from you, holding his other hand off the comforter, so there's no additional evidence of what he did.
He pauses, twisting his palm to watch the way your slick catches the dim morning light, and curiosity gets the better of him as he brings it up to his mouth, tentatively running his tongue over it.
He immediately regrets it. Not because he doesn't like it, but because he does. His cock is already twitching again, and ideas of waking you up with a head full of curls between your thighs consume him. He takes a split second to roll your shirt back down over your chest, thumbing your nipples and earning him a sharp inhale from you that has him grinning despite himself.
"Someone's sensitive," he teases quietly, watching your face contort again, lip trapped between your teeth and eyelashes fluttering.
He shakes himself and groans, rolling away until his feet hit the floor, needing to get away from you before his cock got the better of him. Again.
He opts for a cold shower, stripping out of his sweats and folding them so you wouldn't see the dark spot on them, hoping the freezing water would be enough to calm him- at least until he could get home.
He's not sure how long he's in the shower for, but what he does know is you're barely stirring when he comes back, hair dripping down onto his bare back, jeans pulled over his hips but unzipped as he slips back into bed beside you, heart hammering as you roll over and throw an arm over his torso.
"Morning, Eds," you mumble sleepily, face buried in a pillow. He smiles, relaxing back against your headboard in relief.
"Morning, princess. Sleep well?"
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diejager · 4 months
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Omfg pervy roommate König!!! And his poor little roommate is none the wiser to how he abuses her poor cunt every night. He does such a good job fucking his load into her that she confides in him as a friend that she’s pregnant and is super shocked!! But that’s okay, he’ll always be there for her. Now she’ll never be able to leave him. <3
Cw: forced pregnancy, NON-CON/CUB-CON, DARKFIC, pervy!önig, perverted behaviour, somnophilia, dacryphilia, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, pregnancy, drugging, tell me if I missed any.
You’re blissfully unaware of his advances, or his nightly excursions into, pumping his cum into your already filled womb and putting a baby into you. He liked how disoriented and confused you look the day after, waking up pantieless, your bedsheets crusty and dried cum sticking to your thighs. You always come to him for advice, wanting to know why you came all over yourself, leaving you covered in your own slick and cheeks burning with shame when you told him, oblivious of his gleeful eyes narrowed down at you with a hidden grin.
It goes on for a while, he feeds sleeping pills - the ones from his prescribed-bottle for his insomnia - breaking half a pill down to a fine powder and spike your bedtime drink, waiting for you to doze off, sleeping so deeply that even an earthquake wouldn’t wake you up, and he fucks you. He, sometimes, takes his time, thrusting slowly, enjoying the slow and romantic pace, feeling you wrapped around him. Other times, he goes feral, pounding and bruising you, hands manhandling you into the prettiest position to let him fuck you deeper, the head of his red, angry cock kissing your cervix brutally.
You don’t take pills or any contraceptives, letting your monthly cycle roll over and deal with the cramps with painkillers. So he’s not surprised when you come crying to him about being pregnant after going to see your doctor about your daily nausea and stomach pains. He expected you to be pregnant after so many nights of filling you up, pushing load after load of fertile cum - he takes supplements to make him more virile - into your young womb, what he didn’t put into account was the long time it took to finally knock you up, the months he spent waiting and biting the skin off his thumb until it bled to have you round and plump with his child.
You had the prettiest face when you cried, eyes puffy and lips pouty, it made his cock stir, throbbing in his pants. It drove him wild, seeing you cry and whine about not being ready to be a mother, still so young and oblivious to who the father was —you didn’t even remember the last time you fucked anyone. König spent the day comforting you, wiping your swollen eyes with high-quality cashmere tissues he bought just for you, whispering sweet lullabies to you until your tears stop - much to his chagrin - and cradled you in his lap, fingers thumbing the soft fat of your thighs, running soothing circles with his calloused thumb.
He’ll wait until the baby’s born to tell you he’s the father, he might not be patient enough to sit around and wait, but he is patient enough to know when he should and when he shouldn’t wait. He’ll care of you until you come to term. He has the money to buy you whatever you need, KorTac is the best paying PMC and he was a colonel in the past, racking up a large sum of money before he signed a contract. Your cravings, your needs, your wants and whatever else you ask, your roommate - your soon-to-be-husband - König will take care of everything.
What a nice roommate you have, no?
Taglist: @hiraya1802 @tess0288 @elichisstuff @emodanoriddler @kenz-ee @bunnyclaire @akenosimp167 @havoc973 @death8match @yourliebling @allicsirp00 @cross-axis @hereforhotbitches @delulu4ghost @monster-in-paradise @nordicvsp @madi0987 @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @223princess @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday
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tallulah477 · 5 days
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Prove To You
Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader
Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Yandere!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-con, Predator/Prey Kink, Chasing, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Oral (female receiving), Edging/Orgasm Delay, P in V, Knotting, Size Difference, Fingering, Slight Degradation (use of 'whore'), Belly Bulge, Lapdance (kinda), Creampie, Alien Genitalia, Squirting, A Few Ass Slaps, Mentions of drinking and being tipsy/drunk, Brief Violence/Violent Thoughts (not towards reader), Brief mention of pregnancy, Threat of cutting off another's kuru/neural queue, Thoughts of killing/murder, One (1) non-sexual face slap (reader slaps Neteyam)
Word Count: 9.7K 💀
A/N: Hiiiii it's been a while 🤷🏻‍♀️
Summary: It was only ever supposed to be a hookup, something fun to pass the time. But to Neteyam, it was so much more than that. He's in love with you, obsessed with you - his perfect little mate. But he doesn't know why you keep running away.
**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**
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Translations:
Yawne - Beloved
Tìyawn - Love
Tweng - Loincloth
Tawtute - Human
Kuru - Neural Queue
Tsaheylu - Bond, Neural Connection
Swoasey - kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages)
Kaltxì - Hello
Pxir - Beer
Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader / Healer
Skxawng - Moron / Idiot
Iknimaya - Rite of Passage
Oel Ngati Kameie - I See You
Tanhì - Star
Muntxate - Wife, Female Spouse
Mawey - Calm
He’d only wanted to kiss you. To feel your soft lips pressed against his again. 
It had been so long since he’d gotten to feel them. The mask you have to wear is always a frustrating obstacle. He begs from time to time for you to pull it off, just for a moment, so he can press his warm lips to yours, taste your tongue on his just for a few blissful seconds before the lack of air catches up with you and you have to replace it.
You always say no, always push his hand away from where he has it cupped lovingly around the side of your head, but it never stops him from asking. 
You’re not wearing a mask now though. Instead, a long tube spans one side of your face, curling around your ear and stretching across your cheek before the very end of it forks off into your nostrils. At first glance he panicked, terrified of the thought of you out in the dangerous Pandora environment as a human without your only source of oxygen. It’s silly. He knows that you could have never made it to the village from the lab without some way of breathing. But he can’t help how he reacts, needing to be sure, needing to know that you’re okay. 
He’s at your side in an instant, kneeling in front of your tiny frame, large hands engulfing your head as his eyes searched your face in concern. You smack his hand away, answering his concerned questions of “Ma yawne, what is going on? Are you okay?” with a short “Fine. It’s the new tech the lab guys made,”
He calms, anxiety slipping from his body now that he knows you’re still safe. His eyes flicker over your face, a small smile pulling at his lips as he takes in all your beautiful features in front of him. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, he’s always thought that, ever since the very first moment he met you all those years ago. But now here, without the thick layer of glass covering your face, it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. 
“You’re so pretty, tìyawn,” He whispers, fingers unconsciously reaching out again to brush against your cheek. It’s finally accessible, bare and soft under his fingertips before the dull sting of another slap knocks his hand away. 
You don’t like public displays of affection. 
Or, at least, now you don’t. 
You used to not mind it. Back before that night in front of the fire, you would touch him all the time - sweet and gentle touches when you were talking, so tactile in your interactions with him. A quick squeeze to his knee whenever he was able to make you laugh, friendly half hugs as greetings that would make his heart pound in his chest every single time, your intoxicating scent filling his lungs and suffocating him in the best way. 
He’d keep his nose buried in your neck, breathing you in until you were all he could smell or think about for the rest of eternity if he could. 
He used to carry you places when you would tag along on fun adventures with him and his siblings. Excitement coursed through him every time you agreed to join them, tail swishing eagerly behind him because he knew that eventually you would get tired from walking and allow him to carry you on his back. You like to talk, prattling on about whatever was going on at the lab or a fun new piece of tech that Norm and the others were working on. Sometimes you’d talk about the current drama - someone said you talked too much, were too abrasive, but that you thought that they personally needed to grow a backbone. He’d listen to whatever you had to say - soaking up your voice like the most melodic song and committing every detail you provide him to memory. 
But your voice has a physical response on him. But the horrified looks his siblings would send him when they would see the tent in his tewng from where his hard cock had slipped out of its sheath was always well worth the embarrassment. The feeling of your soft skin on his - arms wrapping around his neck for balance, his hands completely engulfing your warm thighs from where they wrapped tightly around his torso as far as they could. He’s spent many nights imagining them wrapped around his waist from the front instead.
You didn’t mind public displays of affection when you drank an entire swoasey of pxir and danced in front of him by the fire. The celebration had wound down, the clan members satisfied in celebrating the induction of The People who had passed their Iknimaya just a few hours ago. Only a few younger adults who seemed to have the same idea as you remained now, each couple splintering off to different parts of the campground to get their much needed privacy. Even Lo’ak has moved away, enamored by the pretty girl sitting on his lap, uncaring about the way his hands slide down to cup her ass and pull her closer. 
The fading glow of yellows and oranges look amazing against your skin, the steady crackle of the fire like a song all on its own as your hips move to the music only your own head and nature provides. Neteyam’s eyes are wide, excitement coursing through his veins as he watches your hips sway. You sway too, your body a bit unsteady from the drink still in your hand, but mostly it's your hips - the sensual swish back and forth, beads from your tewng (a gift from Kiri he suspects) clank together against each other and your thighs. Your pretty thighs, so soft he wants to wrap his entire hand around them, spread them open for him and see you like he’s always dreamed of. You’d be so wet, so sticky and drenched for him that he’d be able to just slide right in. You were made for him. Made to take him. He’d fit between your thighs so perfectly despite your size difference, he knows he would. 
His breath catches in his throat when you dance closer, small body seductive in the way it calls to him with your movements. You toss the swoasey to the side, the little liquid that was left pouring out and soaking into the ground beside you. Your hands find their way to his bent knees, heat filled eyes never leaving his as you push his legs apart so you can stand between them, searing him with their intensity even from behind the glass of your mask.
Your hands slide up his legs, tiny fingers creeping up the insides of his thighs and he can’t help the audible gulp that escapes him when he feels his cock nudge against his already wet slit, threatening to poke out at any moment. 
Great Mother, you’re so gorgeous. The most beautiful woman Eywa has ever created. You must have been created by her - no other god or goddess or being could ever have made anything more perfect and irresistible than Eywa herself. 
Surely, the Great Mother has made you for him. Just for him. 
“Why so nervous, Teyam?” You giggle, leaning up as far as you can towards his face while still keeping your teasing hands on his thighs, dangerously close to the now bulging fabric. “Tawtute got your tongue?”
“I–um–” He chokes out. He can’t breath, can’t breath with you so fucking close to him. He wants you so badly, wants to touch you so badly he feels like he might die if he doesn’t.
And then you're turning in the cage of his open thighs, back pressing against his front as you grab his shaking hand. There’s a satisfied smirk on your face as you drag his arm around you, the large appendage spanning your entire chest as he sprawls his fingers out across your front. His fingertips automatically curl around the curve of your breast while his palm caresses the other through your beaded top, his body subconsciously reacting to your own guidance. 
His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode in his chest, breathing labored as his hard cock digs into your back.
“You can touch me,” You whisper, but his ears flick at your words and catch them loud and clear. “Want you to play with me.”
“Ha-fuck,” He groans, mouth falling open in silent awe as your top shifts underneath his hand and his finger grazes your hard nipple. Without thinking his hand squeezes your chest, gently but firm enough for you to gasp as he greedily gropes both breasts at once. 
He can smell you now, the mind dizzying scent of your arousal filling the air around you both as you gasp and giggle excitedly at his sudden action, both of your tiny hands reaching up to grip at his big one as you press him tighter against you. 
“Come on, Teyam,” You moan, moan, and he’s not even touching you yet. You turn your head to look at him, craning your neck as you stare up at him with wide, lust filled eyes. “Have some fun with me.”
That night he spent with you under the hypnotic glow of the fire will be forever burned into his mind. Every detail, every moan, every sigh, every praise and whine and plea spilling from your lips as he made love to you for the very first time is kept under the sacred lock and key of his heart - a memory he saved with Eywa back at the Spirit Tree the morning after so that he would never have the possibility of forgetting. 
The memory of your gasp as he pushed you down, beads flying across the mossy ground as he tore your clothes off like an animal and how the roughness of it all made your arousal even stronger. His eyes greedy as they took in their fill of your beautiful body splayed out in front of him like a prize before he covered you with his own. Your fingers teased along his bullet wound scar, tracing the raised line with careful fingers, and he thinks that maybe your loving touch will be enough to fully heal it. 
The place between your thighs feels like home, your tiny pussy swallowing him up and holding him close like the most perfect combination of love and safety. Your voice ringing in his ears, sweet and sensual as you whimper and moan telling him faster, Teyam, fuck me harder, oh god, and he whines in return, cock throbbing and embarrassingly close to bursting so fast already, and sending up thanks and prayers to the Great Mother for granting him this amazing moment with you.
It’s the blending of two hearts, two souls made for each other and coming together as one in a bond so powerful that no one can ever break it. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a kuru, Neteyam can feel you in himself anyway - can feel you wrapping your tiny fingers around his brain and heart and very being, solidifying your bond together without the need for tsaheylu. 
And when you pull your mask off, holding your breath as the hiss of air escapes from the broken seal around your face - he can’t breathe either. The feel of your lips on his, soft and demanding as you kiss him passionately as he fucks you on the forest floor, makes him see stars.
He’s not sure where the change of behavior came from. One day you were affectionate, touchy and giving with your love, surrounding him with your scent and embrace, pussy wrapped around his cock in a hug so tight he thought you might never let go. He wouldn’t mind that, being buried in your heat forever, warm and loved until the day he dies. But the next morning the walls came up, the attitude started, and when he had gone to greet you with a blinding smile and an adoring ‘kaltxì, yawne,’ on his lips as he bent to kiss your cheek, you pulled back and pressed a firm hand against his belly to push him away. 
He thought that your coldness was nerves, just a reaction a human might have to the new soul bond you’ve experienced. Humans don’t mate for life like the Na’vi do, but you’re special, you’re his, and Eywa has blessed your union and made it so even though it should not be possible. Maybe you just don’t know how to handle it. It’s okay, he can be the patient and supportive mate you need.
But the coldness and hostility doesn’t stop, the days go by and the passage of time doesn’t make you calm down. You don’t throw your arms around him like he wants you to, don’t say those three words he longs to hear fall from your lips said with all the love and trust that you have in your little tawtute body. 
Instead, there’s almost anger, a sudden indifference that he can’t seem to place. Had he done something wrong? He doesn’t think so. So, he tries to do the best he can, be the best mate he can be for you during your obvious time of struggle. He’s always there for you, will always be there for you, providing support and bringing you fresh meat, dicing up your favorite fruits and making you pretty jewelry that he knows will look so beautiful on you if you ever just wear it. 
You don’t. You toss the jewelry to the side like it's nothing, you let the food rot exactly where he’s left it.  
You’re not a Na’vi, you don’t understand the implication of your crassness towards his gifts. You don’t see how your refusals break his heart. It’s okay - you’ll learn. Humans are . . . unusual creatures. It will just take a bit more time for you to warm up to the ways of The People.
But his optimism stings with each slight, each indifference you show towards him. Great Mother, you’re so mean to him. Always trying to run from him when he grabs at you, ripping your hand away from his whenever he tries to hold it. You’ve been hiding from him, your trips into the village getting less and less frequent and you don’t let him in when he tries to come to the lab to visit you. 
“You don’t even like being here,” You say when he tries. And you’re right. The stuffiness of the lab makes him tense, and it feels like he can sometimes feel the energy from the machines pressing up against his body. But when he’s with you he doesn’t care. You’re the only thing that matters to him, and when he’s with you, it’s like everything else just falls away. 
The sting from your smack is still on his hand, but he shakes it off as he reaches out to caress your arm instead. “Ma yawne, are you hungry? You should come to my hut. I’ll cook you a fi–”
“No,” You interrupt, shrugging him off of your arm. “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh,” He breathes, disappointment burrowing in his chest but he tries not to let it show even as his fingers reach out to graze against your wrist. “Well then maybe we can go on a walk? There’s a lake not too far from here that I’ve been wanting to show you. It’s beautiful.” Beautiful like you. “I know you’ll love it.”
“No, Neteyam,” You say again, pulling your wrist from his wandering fingers and crossing your arms across your chest. “I’m busy.”
“What are you doing? Maybe I could–”
“No,”
The clipped word rings in his ears. No, no, no, always no. He’s your mate, you shouldn’t have to tell him no. Where you go, he goes. Where he goes, you go. Together. Simple as that. And yet it’s still always no, no, no. You’re turning away from him without another word, walking away with strides he thinks are way too quick for a human, and he can’t help but wonder where you’re heading to in such a rush. 
“Okay,” He calls out, desperate for the conversation not to be over but knowing it will just upset you if he follows you. “I’ll come see you later, tìyawn. I swear it!”
You don’t even look back.
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He hasn’t seen you in nearly a week and his patience is running thin. 
Your absence is killing him. 
Where are you? Why won’t you see him? He knows you have to be suffering too without him. Mated pairs aren’t meant to be without each other for so long and he feels like he’s been apart from you for an eternity. 
You stopped coming to the village. He’s been looking, desperately hoping that he’ll see you among the multitude of faces he sees every day. He wants to hear your voice so badly, wants to pull you into his arms and hold you there, safe and loved, while the warmth of your skin soaks into his. 
He wants to push you down again, cover you with his body as he presses you into his sleeping mat - your sleeping mat. Both of yours, together, the way it should be as he plows into your swollen cunt. His hut should be covered in your scent by now, not an inch of it left without your mark on it. 
It’s not, and his understanding for your trouble adjusting to the bond is quickly dissipating. 
He’s tried to come see you at the lab multiple times. A lot. Every day. The lab guys turn him away.
She’s busy. She’s sleeping. She’s too tired. She’s not feeling too well. 
If you're not feeling well, he should be in there to heal you. Give you comfort when you're at your weakest and motivation to get better. So he can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe. If you’re tired, let him in so he can wrap his arms around you. His chest is sure to be a better pillow for you than any other one you would be laying on. He would be warm, chest moving with just the perfect amount of rise and fall to lull you into a restful sleep. Your beauty sleep - not that you need it. And if you’re busy . . . what’s the harm in him just being around you? He won’t bother you, but any time just existing in the same space as you is like a dream come true. 
He tries to be nice, tries to be a good person - these are his father’s friends, allies of the Omatikaya - and he’s never been one to act impulsively. But they are keeping you from him. You are his. His mate. 
By the looks on their faces, they know how lucky they are that they got away with only some vicious snarls and a pushed over lab desk. Keeping away someone’s mate should be punishable by death.
At least, that’s how Neteyam feels right about now.
He doesn’t like being angry, hates the disgusting feeling that he feels clawing relentlessly at his chest. But he’s frustrated and heartbroken at your self inflicted absence and the warriors he’s training are his unfortunate victims. He pushes them hard, way harder than he probably should. Two of them have already had to go see the Tsahìk for their injuries and most of them look just about ready to drop from exertion. The anger he lets out on them doesn’t seem to quell any of the feelings still boiling inside him.
But then he sees you and it’s like time stops. The anger and frustration flee his body in a rush of relief. You’re here. 
You’re hiding behind a tree just along the edge of the clearing. Why are you hiding? Maybe you’re trying to surprise him, stay out of sight until he’s done training so as to not distract him with your beauty. You would have. You’ve told him plenty of times that he has a staring problem. But he can’t help it. You’re just so breathtaking that he can’t help but want to stare at you all the time. You’re what he imagines Eywa incarnate to look like - a beauty so alluring and otherworldly that he just can’t bear to tear his eyes away. 
The training session is just about done. He releases a majority of the warriors for the day and there’s only a few stragglers that need a few minutes of one-on-one training before he can send them on their way too. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying to them, letting muscle memory and repetition help him drag these last few minutes along as quickly as possible before he’s able to run over to you. He’s already decided that he’s going to take you out tonight. A date night, just like his father and mother have. It’s a time where you both can get away from the hustle and bustle of village and lab life and just be with each other. You clearly need it and he’s so desperate to spend time with you that he’s just about ready to kidnap you from your duties just so he can get a moment of peace just to stare at your gorgeous, unmasked face more. 
Maybe do some other stuff too. Hopefully. 
His heart hasn’t been the only needy thing of his without you. 
The last warrior he’s with is really pushing his luck. How hard is it to switch a knife from a bladed upward position to a downward facing position with just one hand? It’s a simple wrist movement to perfect a move that might save your life one day and this skxawng keeps. dropping. the. knife. Neteyam’s seemingly endless patience is gone. He dismisses the warrior, words much too harsh to be considered professional but he doesn’t care. His mate is waiting for him and he doesn’t want to waste any more time. 
He turns back to head to where you are, a giddy smile pulling at his lips, mood immediately flipping at the thought of finally seeing you, talking to you, holding you. 
Except when he does it’s like he’s being doused with freezing water. 
Another one of his warrior trainees, Oäpon, is standing in front of you and Neteyam can see how he’s purposefully bulging his muscles a little more to make them seem bigger - an action male Na’vi do when trying to attract a mate. Neteyam wants to rip those muscles out of his worthless body. He should be disgusted with himself with how fast his hand twitches towards the knife on his hip, ready to give no thoughts and just act on his emotions. He’s not impulsive, he’s not. But for once in his life he feels like he might actually kill one of his own clan members. 
Would the Great Mother desert him if he did?
But you catch his attention again, the movement of your small step closer to the other man dragging his furious gaze back to you. Your gorgeous eyes aren’t on Neteyam like they should be, but instead on Oäpon in return. You’re smiling at him, grinning so wide that surely it's fake because you’ve never smiled at him like that before. Oäpon lifts his hand and there’s a deep purple flower between his fingers. The flower finds its way behind your ear and all Neteyam sees is red. 
He’s across the clearing in a second, roaring snarls ripping from his chest as he tears the flower from behind your ear. He can hear Oäpon start to talk, to question what the fuck he’s doing, but the other man’s words are cut off with a pained gasp as he’s kicked to the ground and then he’s shock silent, fear written all over his face as he stares in horror at his kuru and the knife held in Neteyam’s inescapable grip. 
“Don’t! Please, don’t,” Oäpon begs, voice shaking as he struggles to force the words out. “Great Mother, help! Please, don’t!”
“Neteyam, stop!” You yell, tiny fists beating at Netayam’s back, but he barely even feels them. 
“She is mine!” Neteyam growls. “Mine. My mate. You do not touch her!”
“I didn’t know,” Oäpon whimpers. “I didn’t know. Please! I swear!”
He wants to do it, wants to slice through the braid so badly. He doesn’t deserve to have it. Kurus are sacred, the ability to connect to Eywa and her creatures is sacred. Attempting to defile the bond between a mated pair is nearly unheard of. Your screams for him to stop are just making the desire worse. You’re protecting him?! Protecting the thing that was trying to . . . no. No, no, no. He deserves to have it cut off, deserves to die.
Oäpon should kiss his feet in thanks for the mercy Neteyam shows by releasing him. 
“I don’t ever want to see you near her again,” Neteyam shouts. Oäpon doesn’t respond, too busy scrambling away and darting across the clearing, but Neteyam knows he’s heard him. 
“You’re a monster!” You scream, another fist coming down to hit at his back. “How could you do that to him?”
Your hits don’t stop and even through his rage he’s trying to be gentle with you. He catches your flying fists in one of his hands, holding them tight as he crouches in front of you trying to get on your level.
“Ma yawne, did he hurt you?” 
Your eyes are wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “Did he hurt me? Are you kidding me?"
Neteyam’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“You fucking–” You screech, Neteyam’s ears pinning against his skull from the high pitched, angry sound. “You–you–I–ARGH!”
You're so frustrated, so upset you can’t even speak properly. Maybe you are hurt - Neteyam’s eyes scan your body for injury, eyes lingering on the area around your ear where the flower had been. The flower now lays forgotten at your feet, crushed and ruined from his angry grip, and Neteyam can’t find any source of injury that might be causing your upset.
“You don’t have to worry,” Neteyam says, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “He won’t bother you anymore, I swear it.”
You jerk away from his touch. “What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t understand what you mean. Nothing is wrong?”
“No,” You shake your head, wrists still trying to twist out of his grip. “No, there’s something wrong with you. Something is seriously wrong with you,”
“You are upset, tìyawn. Tell me what I can–”
“Don’t call me that!” You scream, nose scrunching with the effort. “Stop calling me that!”
“Oh,” Neteyam’s swishing tail droops in disappointment. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t know you didn’t like the name. I only meant to use it to show my love for you as my mate but I can–”
“We aren’t mates, Neteyam!” The words stab like a knife through his heart and his hand loosens around your wrists in shock enough for you to pull them out of his grasp. “We fucked once. A hookup, Neteyam. Sex, that’s it.”
“No,” He whispers. 
Why are you saying this? How could you say this? He was there! He remembers that night more clearly than any other day of his life. You love him. He feels it, feels it with every fiber of his being. You let him into your body, wrapped him tight inside you like a promise that you would never let him go - like he would never have to be alone ever again. You caressed his bullet scar, and he remembers the feel of your gentle fingers silently mourning for it and for all he’s had to suffer. He remembers thinking that being there with you in that moment was worth every other hardship he has to endure. He can take on anything with you at his side. 
“No,” He says again, disbelief coloring his tone. “How can you say that? We are mates! You’re mine!”
“No, we aren’t,”
“We are! I love you, y/n! Oel ngati kam–”
“We are not mated, Neteyam! We fucked. Mindless, hot, means-to-an-end-to-get-off sex. That’s it! Get that through your thick skull,”
He’s watching you as if in slow motion. You turn, stomping away from him as you start to head back into the forest and his brain feels like it’s going a million miles an hour. You’re mates. You are. You have to be - there’s no other way to explain the way he feels about you. The love and utter devotion he has for you. The need to be near you always - looking in your eyes, touching your skin, hearing your voice and the way you’ve always sounded so sweet saying his name. Eywa has blessed your union and he doesn't understand why you don’t feel the same way. Can’t you feel the same inescapable pull that he does? How your soul is tied to his in a way that surpasses even that of tsaheylu?
He reaches out to grab you before you get too far, fingers wrapping around your upper arm. Your own arm flies out around you and the sharp sound echoes through the forest and his sensitive ears before the pain registers on his cheek. 
He’s never seen your eyes so wide before, crazed and panicked as you stare back into his equally shocked amber ones. Your hand is shaking, still raised in the follow through of the slap. The force of your smack is still heating up his cheek, and if he can feel it as much as he is now, he’s sure your hand is probably tingling. 
Any other time he would check you for injuries. You’re so much more fragile than him - you could really hurt yourself if you’re not careful. But you just hit him. Your mate. The man that loves you more than anything. He’s frozen, body cold and not knowing how to react. 
Don’t call me that.
Anger floods through him again. This was Oäpon’s fault. He tricked you, seduced you somehow - out from right under Neteyam’s nose. He should have killed him. 
We are not mated.
You rip your arm out of his grip, wide eyes locked on him as he straightens his body, unfurling out of his crouched position as he rises to his full height. The shadow his body creates over you sends something primal through him. The darkened image of him completely overtaking your tiny figure makes him hungry. Possessive. 
Just sex, Neteyam. That’s it.
He won’t let that worthless skxawng corrupt you anymore. You’re the love of his life, his tanhì. You’re just confused. You’re not thinking clearly. 
You don’t mean it. 
He feels like if he concentrates hard enough, he can hear the sound of your heart racing. Or maybe it's his own, the frantic thump thump thump thump thump of his heart pumping rushing blood into his ears and making him feel like there’s static in his brain. 
When you turn to run, he’s not even shocked. His pupils dilate until there’s barely any color left, predatory gaze marked onto your back as you sprint into the dense Pandoran forest. Everything is so clear to him now. You’re testing him, wanting to see how loyal he is and how far he’ll go to keep you. You’re a beautiful woman, of course you’d have options. But you chose him for a reason, and now you want him to chase you - to prove himself a strong and worthy mate.
You want to play hard to get? Fine. He’ll play. 
He’s a natural hunter, an apex predator - and you, tiny human, have just become his prey. 
It might be fun to hunt you again - sometime in the future when this is all behind you. He’d be sure to make it as fair for you as possible: give you a head start, maybe allow you to rub some mud on your skin to hide your scent just to drag out the game a little longer, give you ample time and resources to find a good hiding spot where you can sit and try to listen with your not that great human hearing for any sign that he’s creeping up on your position. He’d wrap his arms around your waist when he inevitably finds you, smug grin tugging at his lips when your giggled shrieks pierce his eardrums as he pulls you from your oh so clever hiding spot. And then, he’d claim his prize, tearing your clothes from your body right there wherever he found you and fucking you until your giggly shrieking turns into blissful moaning. 
This isn’t fun. It’s not a game. And your headstart is dwindling rapidly. You’re racing through the forest, running as fast as your feet will carry you. He can hear your heavy breaths, the sound of the ground crunching under your clumsy feet. He can smell you, the scent you’re leaving behind in your rush is a direct trail back to you for him to follow. 
He doesn’t need it. He never lost sight of you. 
One of his strides equal close to four of yours, and he covers ground quickly as he closes in on you. He catches you only a little further into the forest than where the chase started and you scream as he tackles you to the ground, the force of his momentum completely knocking you both off your feet. He doesn’t let you touch the ground on the fall, twisting his body enough to take the brunt of the impact. The action still leaves you breathless, dazed for a moment before seeming to come back to yourself and struggling to get off from on top of him.
His hold around your waist is secure and he uses the anchor he has around your waist to throw you on to the ground beside him before climbing on top of you and pinning both of your hands above your head with one of his. 
“Get off me!” You scream, body struggling underneath him, hands pulling in his unrelenting grip as you try to get free, but you can barely move under his weight. “Get off me, Neteyam! Get off, get off, get o–”
His free hand latches around your throat, your words dying on your tongue as his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. 
“Quiet!” He hisses, baring his fangs. “Be quiet!”
The aggressive display makes a small whimper rip from your throat and he can feel the vibrations tickle under his palm. You’re not quiet though, you never stay quiet - ever the talker that you are. You’d talk his ear off if you could. The only time you’ve ever stayed quiet is when you avoided him, and he refuses to let that happen again. 
“Neteyam, please,” You whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re scaring me. Let’s just relax and talk about thi–”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” He growls. “You’ve said enough already, don’t you think?”
He releases your hands, grip on your throat loosening and moving down slightly until it's just a singular hand pressed against your chest to keep you pinned. Your hands immediately latch onto the large hand, one of your own clutching the back while the other curls around one of his long fingers. He feels how you pull at it, trying to get it off of you - and he knows how much harder you could be trying right now if you wanted to. 
He lowers his face to yours, inches away so that his breath fans across your skin as he speaks. “You like to talk, but you don’t like words. You’ve made that clear. My words mean nothing to you.” He can feel how your quick breathing puffs against his face too, the warm air caressing his cheeks. “You need actions - a visual representation of my devotion to you. I see that now.”
In a flash, his hands are balling into her t-shirt, pulling roughly in either direction and the thin material gives easily under the pressure. You gasp as he rips your shirt down the middle, the torn fabric falling on either side of your body as he does the same with your bra with a quick snap of his wrist. 
“What are you doing?!” You shout, but you can’t fool him now. He’s grown tired of your games and your body can’t lie to him. 
“Don’t worry, yawne. I’ll give you what you need,”
The sound of ripping material echoes through the otherwise peaceful forest. Your shorts require just a bit more force to tear, but it’s barely a percentage of his full strength so the fabric comes apart at the seams easily leaving the ruined bottoms still around your waist and thighs, but a large opening right at your center. A rumble of satisfaction builds in his chest when he smells you, the first scent of your arousal permeating the air around you. You gasp when he rips your panties too, leaving nothing left of the light blue material but the thin elastic around your limbs and hips. 
His mouth waters at the sight of your pretty pussy, bare and tempting and already getting so wet for him. 
“Fuck,” You whimper, arms splayed out beside you, fingers gripping into the moss covered ground. 
“You like it when I’m rough, huh?” Neteyam teases. “When I’m demanding and just take what I want from you?”
You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the way he can see your pussy’s responding clench is damning to your denial. 
“I remember now,” Neteyam’s hand slides down your thigh and caresses your calf, long fingers wrapping around your leg as he presses a nipping kiss to your ankle just above your sock. “You loved how I shoved you down on the ground that night. It made you gush in your pretty little tewng, didn’t it?”
“S-shut up,”
“Hm, my muntxate likes being handled roughly, doesn’t she?”
Your response is a shocked squeal when he snatches your hips, hauling you up off the forest floor, the quick snapping of moss ripping from the ground as you’re abruptly pulled upwards. Your entire world is turned upside down as Neteyam dangles you like prey in front of him. He throws your legs over his shoulders and wraps a secure arm around your stomach to hold your lower back to his chest. The other hand holds onto your thigh to make sure to keep you spread before him as if you had any chance to wiggle away. 
A choked sob rips from your throat as your hands reach for the ground, blood rushing to your head as your fingers stretch as far as they can trying to get leverage and hold yourself up. Your fingertips only just barely graze the soft green. 
Neteyam groans as he enjoys the sight right in front of his face. You’re spread open for him, pussy perfectly framed by the destroyed fabric - dripping and glistening in want against the dimming sunlight despite yourself. He can see how you subconsciously contract and clench it, hole practically begging him to fill it with his tongue. He wants to bury his face in it, suffocate on your smell and taste until it’s all he can think about. 
So he does. 
He digs his face between your legs, tongue lapping at your folds like a man starved. He is. He didn’t get to do this your first time. It was too fast, too desperate. He couldn’t control himself with you. Everything about you calls to him like a siren, luring him in with your beauty and light. You dragged him down on top of you that night. You were already open, you told him - had fucked yourself with that fake cock he had found hidden in your drawers during an impromptu hangout in your bedroom at the lab. You still felt suffocatingly tight when he pushed in, but he had been grateful that he didn’t have to wait.
He had waited so long for the chance to be inside you that he felt like if he had waited another second without you he would have exploded. 
Your back arches as he licks up your slit, moaning loudly as his textured tongue slides across your clit. 
“Oh my god,” You gasp out, hands forgoing reaching for the ground and finding purchase on his thighs instead. “Neteyam, f-fuck,”
He hums in response, his tongue targeting the sensitive bundle of nerves, sliding and flicking relentlessly against the small bud as your moans and gasps get louder and louder. Your sounds are driving him crazy, the taste of you on his tongue setting every one of his nerves on fire. His cock is already hard, already working its way past his wet slit and tenting in his tewng. You taste so good, so perfect for him. He wonders what it feels like for you, how good it must feel for you to be writhing in his grip now, so vocal for him in your pleasure that your voice is already starting to sound a bit raspy from use. He bets his tongue feels better than any other man you’ve ever tried, the texture of it foreign and unique and unlike anything else you’ve ever had before. 
It will be the same way for him too, he’s sure. He’s dreamed about it, fantasized and jerked off to the thought of your tongue, soft and silky, running up and down his cock. You’d torture him with it, be teasing and delicate in your licks, alternating between those featherlight, barely there teases against his lavender tip and firmer strokes down the base of his cock. 
Your nails are digging into the meat of his thighs as he wraps his lips around your clit, panting breaths telling him yes, right there, Teyam, fuck, fuck, yes as your hips try to hump against his face. You’re right there, right on the edge, ready to fall over it with just a little bit more.
But he stops, reveling in your frustrated groan as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked core. His intense golden eyes meet yours when your head forces its way up, raspy voice whining a desperate ‘why’ as you feel your orgasm slipping away from you. 
“Tell me you’re mine,” He demands. He needs to hear you say it. 
“Teyam…” 
He can’t bear to hear you deny him again. Can’t handle hearing you say the words that make him feel like his heart has been dunked in acid.
His lips latch onto your clit again, sucking harshly at the tiny bud and your words cut off with a gasp. He works you back up, your head falling back as he nips at your clit with his sharp teeth before licking down your slit to circle your entrance. You’re so tight, so so so tight around his tongue as he pushes it in. You clench around the wet muscle and then somehow clench even tighter when the hand gripping your thigh reaches over to rub firm circles on your clit.
“Teyam, oh god, Neteyam, please!” You beg, thighs squeezing his head as they try to force themselves closed. “I’m gonna cum. Please,”
You wail as he pulls his mouth away again, your hole clenching around nothing as your orgasm dissipates again. 
“Say it,” He feels your whole body shiver as his words breathe hot air on your sensitive cunt. “You’re mine. Say it, y/n,”
You sob, frustration evident in every sound and twitch your body makes. You’re trying to lift your head again, looking up at him from your spot dangling below him like a puppet, and he wonders if all the blood rushing to your head from being upside down for so long is getting to you. 
“Say it,” He repeats and then digs back in, the flat of his tongue roughly swiping over your clit before latching onto it again.
Your legs kick as he works you up again, overstimulated pussy throbbing as he plays you like an instrument he’s known for years. His cock is throbbing too, desperate to be released from the confines of his tewng and shown some attention. He wants so badly to push inside your soaking hole and feel how it’ll grip his cock within its slick walls. 
“Neteyam, please!” You cry, and he knows you’re so close, right there again as he hurdles you back towards that just out of reach edge. He doesn’t stop the suction of his mouth. You’ll say it, he knows you will. You’ll say it because if you don’t, you won’t get to cum. He’ll keep you here, upside down in his unrelenting hold until you pass out from exhaustion before he’s going to let you go without saying it. 
You’re a stubborn brat. He can see as he looks down your hanging body that you’re biting your lip. You want to say it - you’re just being stubborn. He sucks harder on the swollen bud, free hand smacking your hip and your asscheek just hard enough to make you cry and gush further on his tongue, the remaining remnants of your clothes doing very little to muffle the sting. 
“Okay!” You yell. “Okay, okay, Neteyam! I’ll say it! I’m yours! Please, please let me cum!”
The words make Neteyam’s chest tighten. Finally. Finally, you’ve admitted it, and the excitement from the admission urges him to lick you faster. He’s sloppy and greedy as he eats you out, overeager and face wet to the point of dripping as he devours you for all you have. You cum on his tongue with a choked scream, hands reaching up to grab desperately at his arm encircling your waist, nails digging into the cerulean flesh as your back arches and your thighs clench tightly around his head. 
He swallows everything you offer him, lapping up your juices like his favorite most treasured treat, before placing a protective hand on your back to steady you as he lowers you back down to safety.
“Mawey, yawne,” Neteyam coos, gently brushing away a few rogue pieces of moss stuck to your sweaty forehead. You’re still panting, exhaustion creeping over you as your eyes glaze over and threaten to close. The oxygen tube had unhooked from around your ear at some point during your experience upside down. Neteyam guides it back around your ear with careful fingers. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Keep being a good girl while I fuck you, yes?”
Your eyes widen at the mention of fucking, shaking your head slightly even as the full bodied shivers of the orgasm’s aftershocks continue to wrack your body. “N-no, Teyam. C-can’t take i-it.”
Neteyam smiles, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss against your lips. The feel of your lips on his is almost enough to make him cum. He’s so worked up already, so high off the taste of your cunt on his tongue that all it takes is the loving press of your lips on his and he’s a second away from exploding in his tewng and ruining the fun. 
“Yes, you can,” He says against your lips, his sharp teeth digging into your plush bottom lip just to hear you whine. 
Last time he fucked you, he took you from the front. It was love making, a bonding of two souls coming together as one - a spiritual experience filled with panting breaths, eye contact, and the passionate coupling that comes with mating with the one your heart belongs to. 
You don’t deserve that right now, not with the way you’ve hurt him - made him work for the love that should have been given freely. The things you said can’t just be forgotten. You need him to prove his worthiness to you? Prove his loyalty? Then fine, he’ll do that by giving you exactly what you deserve.
You yelp when he flips you over on your stomach, large hands grabbing your hips and hauling them up so your ass is in the air and on display for him. The remaining fabric of your shorts still cover nearly half of your ass, but the little coverage does nothing to diminish the amazing view. You try to push yourself up with your arms, but Neteyam is quick to shove you back down with a hand on the back of your neck. 
“No, no, tìyawn,” He says, running a large hand over your exposed ass, his fingers teasing along the creamy slit of your pussy. “You said you’re mine, so let me see what’s mine.”
His teasing fingers find your hole and his teeth dig into his lower lip when he sees your thigh start trembling as he circles your entrance with the pad of his finger. You like it rough, he has to remind himself. You’re a human, so delicate compared to him that he naturally wants to be gentle with you. But that got him nowhere, it got him ignored. You respond to roughness, passion, him taking charge - so he doesn’t give you any warning before he’s plunging two long fingers inside you all the way to the knuckle.
You scream, slick walls squeezing around his fingers, your own hands once again ripping at the moss below you. The scream is agonized, oversensitive and pained from your earlier edging and orgasm. Your thighs are shaking, desperate sobs erupting from your throat. But the way you’re pushing back against him, rocking back against his invading fingers trying to get them deeper inside you tell him everything he needs to know. 
“Look at you,” He coos. His fingers start up a steady rhythm, thrusting inside you with purpose as he stretches you open. “Such a little whore for me, aren’t you?”
Your moans are muffled against the ground, cheek pressed firmly against the moss from his hand pinning you down by his neck. You ignore his question, too lost in trying to push back against his hand and make him fuck you faster - so he rips his fingers from your gripping cunt, drops of your wetness flying from the force of his retreat, and his large hand lands harshly on your backside. 
You howl at the smack, the sound of the slap against direct skin this time cracks through the forest like a gunshot. 
“I asked if you’re my whore,” Neteyam repeats. It’s not as romantic as ‘I’m yours’, but still just as important. 
“Yes, Teyam,” You whine. “I’m your whore.”
“Just for me, right? Only my whore,” Silence again, but your hips are still wiggling and searching for his fingers, so he rewards your silence with another sharp smack. “Say it, yawne,”
“Fuck!” You cry, ass feeling like it's on fire even as more of your slick drips down your thighs. “Yes, yes! Only for you, Teyam. Only for you,”
“Good girl,” Neteyam purrs, and you’re rewarded this time with his fingers sliding back inside your aching pussy. 
He stretches you out on those two fingers, alternating between scissoring them inside you and curling them to rub at that special spongy spot that makes you squeal and see stars. He contemplates adding a third, but decides that he wants to finish stretching you out on his cock instead. 
This time when you cum, it's less of a scream and more of a deep guttural groan that comes from deep inside you. It’s wetter than he expects it to be when you squeeze around his fingers, and the sight of your slick dripping from your mound onto the forest floor beneath you makes him feel absolutely feral. 
He lets go of the back of your neck and pulls his fingers from your abused cunt. The wet fingers work frantically at the knots on his tewng and he feels like he can’t get the fucking thing off fast enough. When the knots come undone and the tan material flutters to the ground, he breathes a sigh of relief, thick needy cock springing from its confines to slap against his belly. 
When he focuses back on you, your exhausted body is already trying to curl in a ball, eyes threatening to close as sleep calls to you. No, Neteyam thinks. He’s not done with you yet.
He flips you back on your stomach, pulling your hips back up high so they’re flush with his. You both groan as he rubs his hard cock between your folds, the tip nudging at your swollen clit. Fuck, you feel so good, pussy feeling like silk against his aching length. His eyes are locked onto where he’s lining his head with your entrance, watching in awe as he nudges himself forward, your greedy hole welcoming him in like you’ve been doing this forever. He can’t control his sounds, grunts and moans of pleasure echoing loudly through the trees as he sinks himself inside your slick walls. You’re so tight, even with the amount he’s stretched you out already you’re still so tight. But you stretch around him like you were made for him, made to take his cock into your depths - like your insides already know the exact shape of him and welcome him back into their warm embrace.
You whimper as he fills you up, back arching and hands clawing at the ground like you’re both trying to get away from him and closer to him at the same time. 
“I fucked you so good, didn’t I?” He gunts, pulling halfway out of your gripping pussy before slamming back in, relishing in the tortured moan it pulls from you. “That night by the fire. Made you cum so many times, over and over again until you were so cock drunk you couldn’t speak.”
He pulls out again, just a little further this time before thrusting back in. He does it again, and again, the rhythm hard and unforgiving and he pulls your hips closer to his. In the back of his mind he fears that he’s being too mean, too rough, but your gasping hiccups and blissed out sighs contain any worry. This is as much for him as it is for you anyway. He’s allowed to be selfish. 
“You’re always so talkative,” He pants. “Where’s that pretty voice now, huh? You were so talkative that night, just endless pleas of my name falling from your gorgeous lips. Like music to my ears. I wanna hear it again. Please, yawne?”
“Mmh, please,” You whine. “Please, Teyam,”
“Please what?”
“Faster,” You beg. “Fuck me faster,”
Who is he to deny such a sweet and pretty thing?
He leans forward, body curling over yours to cover you completely, one of his hands grabbing yours and linking your fingers together as he presses them both against the ground. His other hand is still on your hip, using it as leverage as he fucks your puffy pussy faster, the tip of his cock barreling against your cervix with each snap of his hips. 
He can feel the knot on the base of his cock swelling, the large ball of tissue nudging at your entrance with each thrust. The instinct driven part of him urges him to push harder against you, to force the knot against your tight hole to see if it will fit. 
He didn’t knot you that night, not wanting to risk hurting you or getting you pregnant so fast with such a new relationship. He came inside you with his fist wrapped tightly around his knot instead. Na’vi bonds are forever. Human bonds . . . now he’s not so sure. He’s not willing to risk it anymore. He’s going to bond with you in every way he knows how. 
When he feels his orgasm creep up his spine, he lets instinct take over. His grip on your hip tightens, thrusts halting as he presses the enlarged ball against your soaked entrance. 
You gasp, whimpering as his knot stretches you more. “Oh god, wait, wait,”
But it's too late. With another determined shove, the knot pops inside you and he has you trapped, locked on his cock until time decides to free you. 
“Neteyam, i-it’s too b-big,” You whine, shock evident in your voice. “Hmh, so full,”
Neteyam plants soothing kisses on the back of your head and neck, the hand on your hip smoothing around your belly to caress the large bulge of the outline of his cock in your stomach. “I know, tìyawn. I know. It’s so much, but you’re doing so well. Just a little more for me, okay?”
He can’t thrust now, can't even so much as pull out an inch now that he’s locked inside you. So, he makes you do the work. He keeps one hand on the bulge in your tummy, the other hand coming down to rub relentlessly at your throbbing clit. The stimulation makes you keen, pussy clenching and tightening around him and working his aching length with your wet walls. 
His fingers on your clit are your undoing. He barely hears any noise from you as your orgasm hits, but this time he’s able to see the side of your face as you come undone. Your eyes roll back into your head, mouth opening in a silent scream, but it's like all the breath has been stolen from your lungs. Your body tenses, muscles shaking through the overwhelming pleasure, and he feels as much as he hears how you gush and squirt all over his teasing digits and the ground below you. 
He moans at the sight, the feel of your pussy clenching around his length and the wetness from your orgasm on his fingers and cock makes him tip over the edge. His orgasm crashes through him, tearing him apart as he spills himself inside you. His cum paints your walls, and his knot makes sure to keep every single drop of it inside you. 
Neteyam collapses next to you, shaking as the aftershocks roll through him, and pulls your limp body safely against his. It will be at least an hour before the knot’s swelling goes down enough before he’s able to slip out. You let out a moan of pain as the knot pulls at your entrance as he adjusts you, but he sushes you.
“Relax, ma yawne. I’ll take care of you.” He coos. “Oel ngati kameie,”
You don’t say it back. You don’t even hear him, already dead to the world as your exhaustion finally catches up with you. 
It’s okay. He knows in his heart that one day soon, you’ll say it back.
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sweetenerobert · 2 months
Text
stuck in the elevator
4.1k / dark!bfd!joel miller x sunshine!male reader
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summary: a visit to sarah at college with her dad turns different after you both get trapped in an elevator
warnings: dead dove/do not eat, DARK!Joel, strong language, pwp, age gap (reader is 21, joel is in his 40s), joel asks for consent (you’re a bit hesitant), dirty talk, fingering, scent kink (if you tilt your head and squint), spanking, unprotected p in a, biting, creampie, hair grabbing (no physical description of hair type/hair length), joel’s body pressing up against you (trapping you in a sense), pet names (baby, angel, son), joel has an exhibition kink, no use of m/n or y/n
my brain was rotting after @toxicanonymity answered this anon and i just had to write this.
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You didn’t expect a quick visit to Sarah’s college would end up with you and her father, Joel, becoming stuck in a dark elevator — emergency lights gleaming down on the both of you.
It was supposed to be a quick and easy visit; you and Sarah would converse with each other — Joel joining in on occasion, talking about classes, the friends she’d made, and overall her experience at college. As you both were leaving, you could tell Joel’s knees were bothering him, so you decided to grab the elevator that brought you both to the ground floor, but you never expected the elevator to stop midway down.
Were you frightened? Yes. But Joel banging on the door wasn't banging on the door wasn't making your nerves calm down any faster. You hugged your arms around you as a way of comfort as you just heard Joel’s yells and cries being — practically ignored as his hands banged against the metal surface.
You’d hit the emergency button, but no answer on the other side came through. You were nervous; you’d never been in a situation where you had been stuck in such a confined space, especially with someone’s powerful voice like Joel’s.
“Hey! Can anybody hear me? We‘re trapped in this fuckin’ thing!” Joel yelled.
“Joel?” You called out. Joel ignored you and continued banging on the metal doors. “Hello,” Joel exclaimed, banging his fist on the door. “Joel?” You tried again.
“I swear to fuckin’ Christ, I’ll rip these fuckin’ doors apart—” You got off the rail you were leaning on and walked to Joel’s position behind him, quickly whipping him around for him to stare at you. “Joel!”
“What?” Joel quickly snapped, causing you to jump back, being spooked by how powerful his voice was. “Shit, sorry, son.” Joel reassured you. “I just want to get out of here.”
“We will; we just gotta be patient,” You nodded. “Do you get claustrophobic in small spaces?”
Joel turned around, placing his hands on the metal doors sprawled out, breathing strenuously — as if he were going to pass out. You noticed the veins bulging from his head and neck; you were worried about how stressed he looked; his veins might burst.
“No, nothin’ like that, son.”
Well, now you were confused. You were confused about why Joel was currently so mysterious and different from when you both drove here and when you were in Sarah’s dorm room earlier.
“Then what's the problem? Because it looks like you’re about to burst another minute that you’re in here.”
Joel didn't know what to tell you; his cock was itching against the denim of his jeans, and he couldn't face the person who made him feel this way. When you first rushed in the truck, smiling all gleefully — bouncing in his passenger seat, Joel’s cock was getting hard, and he couldn't understand why.
Hearing you sing along to some of the songs you knew either in your head or when the radio played, Joel wanted to pull over and fuck you so he could hear the moans that would escape your lips.
He wanted to hear you scream his name with his cock sliding in deeper with each push and thrust, wanting to make you cum from his cock. And the fact now that Joel can't escape the elevator that he so badly wants to, he’s trapped with the one person he desperately wants to get away from.
Joel knew that it would fuck everything up if Sarah found out that he fucked her best friend, and Joel never wanted to be selfish, but Joel yearned to touch you, make himself feel good, and hear what he so desperately craved.
You swore the elevator got darker as Joel slowly turned around, like a villain in a movie revealing himself. It was like a switch had gone off in Joel as he stepped closer to you while you stepped back as a pure reflex; with each step Joel took, you stepped back. Your back felt the cold rail you were leaning on moments prior.
Joel’s hands were on each side of your head — preventing you from escaping the trap he’d put you in. Your breathing shuddered, and it showed as Joel slid his hands down from the wall to your bottom lip and traced his thumb over your skin, making your body feel clammy.
After your breathing had returned to normal, Joel brought his hand up on the wall and moved his head next to yours, making you feel nervous and uneasy. You’ve never felt this way about Joel before.
You’ve known him for a while, and it was always a good time to be around him; he never made you feel like you couldn't talk to him about anything you couldn’t talk to your parents about. So, seeing Joel’s behavior drift suddenly made you feel small and easy to destroy.
You felt Joel’s warm breath against the cartilage of your ear; you tightened your knuckles in a fist, trying to calm yourself down. “You, son. You’re the problem.”
Your best friend’s dad’s statement had caught you off guard. “W-what?”
“You’re too fuckin’ perfect; smell fuckin’ amazing,” Joel growls in your ear. He moves his head towards your neck and takes a long and drastic inhale, making goosebumps litter the back of your neck and spine.
“J-Joel, what — why are you saying these things?”
“My cock is so fuckin’ hard, baby. And your talking is making my cock hurt even more.”
You wanted to keep talking; you were beyond perplexed at the situation. You had no idea what to do; the man whom you once felt comfortable made the situation you both were currently in a thousand times worse.
His hand slid from the wall onto your waist — making your skin shudder. “J-Joel, I- I don’t -”
“Please baby, lemme fuck you; I-I promise nothin’’ll change. My cock is just desperate for you, baby.”
“Joel, please think about what you’re saying.”
“I’have, c’mon baby, please?”
Joel’s hand on your waist made your skin draw cold — made you feel like you had been stuck in a block of ice. You’d finally understood now why Joel wanted to leave the elevator faster. He was holding restraint while revealing his true emotions.
You glanced up at Joel, seeing desperation underneath his eyes; you didn’t know what to say, so your mouth just opened while your brain had just shut off.
“If we do this? Nothing will change?” You question.
Joel nods. “I swear, baby. Nothin’ll change.”
You release a small puff of air you didn't realize you were holding in. “Okay, I- I’ll do it, Joel.”
Your best friend's dad wasted no time smashing his lips against yours. You were surprised by how hungry Joel’s kisses were. It surprised you that his lips could barely stay on top of yours. Your hands were not even connecting with Joel’s body; that's how surprised you were. Joel’s hand on your waist slid down to your inner knee; he hoists your knee up so it's around his waist.
“Fuckin’ hell, baby. You taste amazin’,” Joel growled.
Planting your hands on Joel’s curls, you can't help but reflexively slide your hands through his curls. This felt right — kissing your best friend’s dad to help get him through what he was feeling. You didn't know what was going through Joel’s head, but you were happy to help him.
Joel’s hungry kisses trail down to your neck, and you can't help when but moan, with your moans bouncing off the metal walls of the elevator. “Fucking, shit, Joel,” You exclaim. You felt Joel’s teeth against your neck; you hissed in retaliation. “Fuck, baby. I’wanna eat ya’; you taste like heaven.”
You feel Joel’s hips grind against your throbbing cock, you feel like Joel could make you cum with him rubbing his denim-covered cock, and it made you feel a way you didn't know how to explain. “You feel how hard I am for ya, baby?”
Any clear and rational thought left your head, but your mouth couldn't say anything. “Mhm,” You nodded.
Joel’s slow grinds became rougher as you felt your body connect with the wall behind you. Moaning and gasps escape your lips as Joel’s hips slam into your own. “C’mon, angel. Use your words.” Your mouth quickly opened, and you just spoke whatever. “Yes, Joel. I feel how hard you are.”
“There ya’ go baby,” Joel growled. You feel Joel smashing his lips against yours. Then feel your leg drop as your hands rise, ultimately feeling your wrists on each other — above your head.
Joel’s iron grip on your wrist made your legs squirm as your dick was rubbing against your pants. Each kiss, every breath you breathed, and hearing Joel’a shuddering breathes through his nose made your cock want to explode in this unexplainable way. Back his head away from yours, you open your eyes, seeing a grin on Joel’s face. “Turn around, baby.”
With your hands above your head, you turn around, now with your palms on the wall before you — Joel’s tight grip never losing strength. You feel your pants feel loose as Joel slides them down with a few tugs with one hand. Your dick throbs away from its prison, your balls shrivel up, and thighs get a cold sensation littering the lower half of your body. “Y’have the best ass I've ever seen, baby,” Joel grunts as his hand comes across your ass, causing you to yelp.
Joel’s free hand has your ass in a grip that is similar to the hold on your wrists. His thick fingers tease the bend of your ass as you feel his finger pads slide up and down, causing you to squirm. “Don’t have to squirm, baby.”
“Can’t help it, your hands are cold,” You grit.
“Than I better warm them up for you.”
In one motion, Jole hooks in fingers on the inside of your cheek, causing the back of your throat to get that rush of cold air the bottom half of your body was feeling.
Swirling his fingers around the inside of your cheek, your palms start to clam up, and you swear your palms slide a bit. Suddenly, his fingers slide out of your mouth — a line of saliva liters your cheek. Wet-saliva-covered fingers of Joel’s slide into the bend of your ass and your asshole. Gasping, you bear your teeth and squirm while Joel’s fingers swim inside you.
“Is that warm enough for ya?”
The answer couldn't form from your mouth as Joel’s fingers made you squirm under his touch. Your balance was way off as his fingers slid in deeper. You wanted Joel’s fingers out of you so you could take a breath, but you knew Joel could be persistent; he wouldn't accept your request.
Bearing your teeth even harder, they could pop out of your mouth; you felt your eyelids stapled shut as you thought about the ache in your eyelids. You heard a slight squelch sound from your ass; as you felt that release from your ass, you took a quick drag of air into your lungs as you began to collect your thoughts.
A hard smack across your ass causes you to yelp through your born teeth; your clothed-covered stomach and cock suddenly collide with the wall in front of you — Feeling Joel’s body pressed behind you. His breath against your ear — growling against your ear.
“S’fuckin’ squirmin’ so much, this is me asking nicely, by the way.”
“Sorry,” You apologized.
“Don’t have to apologize, baby. But, you’re makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be.”
You feel your body having a massive weight off your back and being unpressed from the wall. You inhaled another quick breath before Joel could slide his fingers inside you again. You were inhaling a breath through your teeth — but keeping your feet still the best you can.
Strangely, you felt your feet rise as if Joel was lifting you to make you stand on the tips of your toes. You place your head on the wall before you as it feels like a colossal weight is balancing on your neck. “Fu-aah-ck, Joel. You’re so deep,” You whimper.
“I fuckin’ love it when you whimper, baby; makes my cock even harder.”
You felt Joel slide another finger into you — pushing deeper, causing you to groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. His fingers slid back and forth faster, and you wanted to squirm, but you stood still, the back of your throat on the verge of revealing a squeal. Your cock rubbed up against the wall before you and made you want to cum right then and there, but you do your best to hold your moans in the best you can.
“Are you ready for my cock now, baby?”
To be honest, you weren't — at all. You didn't even know why you agreed with what Joel was pleading with you previously. Your hands were still above your head, your forearms were getting sore, and all you wanted to do was get out of this elevator much faster. So, you complied with Joel’s question. “Y-yes,” You nodded.
The grip Joel had on your wrists had been released, but immediately, you placed them on the wall by your sides — planted on the wall. You didn't turn around to notice Joel sliding his jeans off his waist
Joel’s spit lands on the head of his cock, and his hand smooths it down his shaft seconds before he powers into you with a deep, gravelly groan — sounding like a lion. A silent gasp escapes your lips, and you bear your teeth, snapping your eyes shut.
Your nails dig into the metal before you as Joel’s hands are planted on your waist — nails digging into your skin. Joel’s thrusts start slow, giving you a chance to breathe and grasp the situation you’re in.
The tiny elevator you were in made you realize the predicament: you were getting fucked by your best friend's dad. How you felt couldn't be explained, only observed, but you didn't want anyone to see you right now.
Knocks coming from behind you, causing you to strain your neck as you locate the noise — Joel’s neck following suit.
“Hey, is everything alright in there?” You heard it muffled behind the sliding door.
“Yeah. We fine,” Joel shouts. Grunts follow suit as his hips collide with you, causing a muffled groan through your teeth.
“Are you both alright?”
“M’ fine; they seem under the weather,” Joel grunts. 
You roll your eyes at Joel’s statement, turning your head back towards the wall.
“Okay, stay calm and keep away from the doors; we’re gonna get the door open as quick as we can.”
“Take your time,” Joel announces.
One of Joel’s hands plants flat on your hair, and you feel a tight grip on your hair as you bend your neck back. A light gasp leaves your lips as Joel’s hips rock faster into you.
“I wish I could spend my time on you, angel, but we really need to hurry this up.”
Joel’s once leisurely pace began to speed up, causing you to force your hands to ball into a fist — your nails piercing your palms. The claps that vibrated throughout the small space you and Joel were in made the sounds seem deafening.
The decorum that Joel had left him entirely when he finally achieved what he yearned for for so long.
He acquired treasure that he had been obsessing over for so long that it was driving him insane.
Bearing his teeth, you hear Joel’s grunts in your ear — causing your cock to twitch. With Joel’s free hand, he brings it up and slams his hand down on your ass cheek. You have to groan as silently as you can because the people working on the door didn’t hear the two of you.
“The only thing between us and them are doors that can open up at any given moment.”
“They would see my handprint on that sweet ass of yours, the marks on your neck given by me, God. I could cum in that tight little ass thinkin’ about it.”
“J-Joel. You’re hitting so deep.”
“Y’feel my cock stretch you out, baby?”
You don't answer; your mind keeps drawing blanks, causing you to moan with each thrust Joel’s hips made contact with your ass.
Each thrust made you feel like Joel was stretching you out inch by inch; the pain felt a mix of unbearable and pleasurable, but all you knew was that you wanted to leave this situation as soon as you could.
Joel’s cock twitched inside you, but you didn't notice it, but you felt his thrusts become faster, rougher — almost animal-like.
“I’m cummin’ soon, baby. I’m creamin’ that tight ass soon.”
With a tug on your hair, you feel Joel’s breath against your ear. “Hopefully, I can get you pregnant by the time those doors open.”
Joel's hold on your hair had finally released and held onto your waist. His nails feel embedded into your skin as you moan as quietly as you can, with each thrust connecting with you.
“Y’see how hard ya make me baby? Can't believe your ass is mine,” Joel growled
Your clammy palms connect with the metal wall as you feel the shaft of your cock start to pulsate.
“Fuck, baby. I’m about to cum,” Joel’s teeth are about to shatter as his hands go on the wall before you to keep his balance.
His mouth is next to your neck, causing chills to trail down your spine as you feel like you're about to cum. Whimpers leave your mouth as you turn your neck to look towards Joel.
His lips collide with yours as his thrusts slow down — becoming more passionate, remembering the man you knew.
As your lips leave each other, a line of saliva leaves both of your mouths. You force your head to look at the wall, and Joel plants a hand on your back, and his pace quickens again.
“Fuck! I’m cumming,” Joel exclaimed as quietly as he could.
With a few pushes of his hips and one final one, you bite your lip and moan against your teeth, and lip as strings of cum land on the wall, and Joel’s cum shoots inside you.
You can feel how warm his cum inside you, making your stomach feel like mush inside.
Turning your neck, you hear Joel’s breaths and feel them against your neck. You notice his curls attached to his sweaty forehead, your mushy feeling stomach just became sludge in your stomach as you swallowed your bile down.
“Thank you so much, baby,” Joel breathed.
“I-It’s okay.”
Joel places his lips softly against your neck. And you force yourself to act like everything is fine.
Joel backed up from you, his now soft cock exiting you, cum threatening to spill out from inside you. You quickly picked up your pants and acted like everything was fine.
Your eyes reflexively watched Joel as he picked up his pants and buckled his pants and belt. He catches you staring at him and smirks.
“Ya already want to go round two wit me already, son?”
You don't answer. You roll your eyes, cross your arms, and turn your body away from Joel.
The idea of trying to stomach what just went on was a broken CD in your head. Nothing was making sense of how you were supposed to feel. All that you know was that you felt like throwing up.
You heard the elevator doors creak a bit, causing Joel to turn around.
“We’re getting the doors open; steer clear,” You heard the voice from before.
The elevator doors opened with a sharp creak as you saw two pairs of hands force the door open. You settled your nerves, but your stomach still felt like sludge — making you want to throw up.
“Are you guys alright?”
“Ye-” Joel started.
“Yes, we’re fine,” You interrupted.
“Can we get out now? Please?”
“A-almost, just need to make sure you boys aren't hurt.”
“No cuts or anythin’ like that, sir. The boy is just a little flustered, is all,” Joel acknowledged, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, causing your body to shudder.
“Well, then. If everything is fine, don’t see any reason to keep you boys waiting-”
You speed walked out of the elevator — practically running from Joel’s grasp on your shoulders. You just wanted to go home, curl under your sheets, and pretend you didn't exist.
The feeling that nothing would be back to the ordinary — despite Joel’s words moments ago came back when you reached the college campus doors you were begging to see. Pushing the doors of their hinges.
You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets before scrambling to reach Joel’s truck and enter the passenger side.
Your exhales fog up the passenger-side window as you feel as if you ran fifty miles to get away from Joel. The point of running was pointless because Joel was your ride home, but you wanted to be as far away from him as possible.
You noticed Joel’s broad figure stalking toward the truck — like a serial killer approaching their victim. The occasional glancing at the windshield made you regret your decision to steal glances at the parking lot.
You were forcing yourself to turn your body towards the door to avoid any glance from Joel or any form of communication. Your ears pick up Joel’s door opening, him grunting to get in, and the door closing.
“You alright, son?”
You nod with your head against the window.
“Look at me,” Joel stated.
Your head didn't budge from the window; you knew there would be a spot where your forehead lay.
“Look at me,” Joel’s statement sounded more like a command from how deep his voice went.
Reluctantly, you turn your neck and stare at your best friend’s dad. “Are you sure, ya alright?”
“Just like you said, just a little under the weather.”
“It’ isn't because of us, right?” Joel’s southern drawl hung on the last word of his question.
“I don't think so, maybe?” You shrug.
“Son-”
“Maybe it is, I don't know. I’ve never had sex before, so I don't know.”
In Joel’s head, his face read the realization of why you had been so closed off. He used his daughter’s best friend for his personal gain without actually thinking about how you would feel after the fact. But in reality, Joel seemed fine with the news that you haven't had sex before; he felt like he owned you, once and for all — something he always wanted.
“I’just hope you don't tell Sarah about any of this.”
You wanted to throw up; bile was threatening to crawl up your throat. You told Joel a big part of you, and all he had to say was that you wouldn’t say anything to Sarah.
“Can you just take me home, please?”
Joel said nothing; he just started his truck and drove out of the dorm parking lot.
After what felt like an eternity of driving in silence with Joel, he stopped the truck in front of your house; you felt comfort once again as you saw the front door of your home.
You were blinking a few times before looking at Joel and nodding before you attempted to grab the handle and open the door. Joel made you turn around — grabbing you by the neck and forcing your lips to crash against his in a hungry and less passionate kiss.
It was what felt like Joel would deem absolutely necessary.
Backing your heads away from each other, you see darkness in Joel’s eyes as you see your reflection; the man you once knew was gone, and that was terrifying.
“Thanks, Joel,” Was all you said as you walked out of his truck.
Walking towards your door, you don't hear Joel’s engine drive off into the night; it was still — you knew Joel was watching you — waiting for you to get inside your house.
Quickly slithering inside your house, you lean on the front door as you hear Joel’s truck drive off down the street. You opened the door and saw his vehicle was gone; a sigh of relief escaped your lips, and then you felt bile rise to your throat again, and you were leaning your stomach over the railing of your stairs, spilling the contents of your stomach onto the dirt below.
A coughing fit ensured you knew would wake a neighbor or your parents away but you didn't care, you just wanted your stomach to feel clean of any feelings of disgust.
“Dang it,” You breathed, standing up and wiping your mouth with your jacket sleeve.
“I opened up a giant can of worms. Gosh, I’m not ready for this.”
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konigsblog · 5 months
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gynaecologist price and pretty patient
༉‧₊˚. gynaecologist, aphrodisiac, DUB-CON
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your doctor, price. a cruel, cheeky man who always found himself inside your inner walls behind a curtain, making you believe he was just stretching you out for the speculum.
your whines made him chuckle, gripping your hips tightly and rutting into you sloppily. your eyes watering and your cunt glistening and watering for him, his drooling tip leaking all over your clit.
he promises it's just a pelvic massage, an examination to make sure you're alright, but you can't help but tighten your thighs when his hands wander and he drives his thick, fat dick into your dripping cunny, groaning out and praising his you for listening so well.
“jus' like that, lovie. ain't'cha just so pretty when you're all listenin'?” your gynaecologist taunts, pushing his broad hips against your own.
he might just prescribe you a medicine, one that has your pussy sloppy and wet for him. he isn't afraid to decline taking you off the medication if it means you're always wet and sticky for him; crawling back and babbling, your eyes wet and multiple pairs of panties ruined and soaked.
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mirangel · 9 months
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luocha nsfw drabble 1
cw: dubcon, mean!luocha, gn!reader, written as yandere but can be interpreted without, temporary imprisonment as punishment, claustrophobia, sex toys, bondage, use of dearest (2)
written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable
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luocha has a rather unconventional method of punishing you. it’s not with spanking, although he quite enjoys that too. or edging you until your mind melts from your brain, that one he’ll do on a regular day. but instead, he’ll tie you up, a gag in your mouth and a lubed up vibrating dildo shoved into your hole, and leave you in his coffin as he goes around doing his tasks around the xianzhou luofu. of course, he cant leave his beloved coffin at home, so he’ll carry it, with you inside, on his back, and he cant help but smirk when he thinks no one is around.
"comfortable in there, dearest?" he quips with a small grin on his face, knowing well that you can’t respond back to him. but his habit of communicating with the one inside also extends to you, even know he’s fully aware you’re still alive. his favorite part of the day is when his duties are fully complete, and he gets to open the heavy door, and you meet his gaze with lust, fear, and exhaustion. “apologies, dearest.” but you know he’s not sorry, not with the way he looks at you with mischief in his eyes.
he can’t help but coo once he sees the fearful expression in your eyes, “so scared in there weren’t you? we could’ve avoided that if you were more keen to listen to me.” but then he tilts his head, removing the gag around your mouth. “but i personally think you need a bit more punishing.”
FUCKCJAJAB I LOVE LOVE LUOCHA!! IM SO SANE ABOUT HIM I PROMISE IM SO NORMALL IM DHHGWJJW i love mean luocha. someone hold me back or i will never stop.
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