#i want her to be leashed and tamed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sytoran · 5 months

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ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

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yanderenightmare · 6 months

Note

Nasty alpha wolf-boy Shiggy buying virgin bunny reader at a shady auction, taking her home and breeding her silly in all her tight bunny holes<3

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 2.5k

TW: NSFW, captive darling, light bondage, oral giving/receiving, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, hybrid au

Shigaraki doesn’t get along with most other organizations aside from his own, but he could hold a certain respect for this establishment. He felt appreciated here – a valued customer – one with a hungry appetite the vendor saved only the very best herbivores for.

Herbivores like you.

“She was easy to tame- submissive like she was made for it!” The Master said. “A bit too submissive for my taste- but you know what they say about bunnies- cute like a button and just as dumb!”

Your thighs rubbed themselves where you stood in the dark of your blindfold. Bleating and cowering in the chastity belt they’d fixed tight around your lower body – having you sheathed on two thick cocks stretching out both virgin holes – making you drippy – vibrating inside you with purrs tickling your core in thrums he could hear from ten meters away.

“Stuff her in the trunk and take her home if you want- she’s so soft around the edges and pumped with hormones she won’t mind the bumpy road. You could take her right here on the concrete, and all she’d do is just moan!”

He could smell it in the air – how heated you were. Sopping like a braindead whore – he bet you’d been stuck in that chastity belt for hours, as sweaty and trembling as you were. Unstable were you stood in pink pumps soaked full of the slick running down your thighs – only managing to stand thanks to the big bodyguard behind you. He was a beastly fucker, squeezing one of your tits tight in a big bear paw while fisting your leash like a noose in the other, pulling the thick black collar kept snug on your throat only to feel your plush ass rub against his crotch.

The way your arms were cruelly bent behind your back was of no help to your balance either, making your perky tits strut forward. Stiff nipples begging for a suck or a twist or a slap – sculpted a bit by an additional harness shaped like a bra with no filling – just thin black leather lines extenuating that on display.

“My hunters swear she’s a pure little thing, so normally I would demand you pay extra-”

Two black heart-shaped eyepatches had you blindfolded but were kept lenient enough to allow tears to soak through, layered damp on your cheeks and giving a pretty plump bloat to your lips – sucking on the pink ballgag stuffed in your mouth, fastened tight around your head – making all your noises come out wet and even more feeble.

“But she’s yours free of charge if the league handles some business for me~”

Your lop ears drooped sadly down your cheeks, framing your cute face like a picture where your little nose kept wrinkling in terribly adorable sniffles – squealing on what he could tell was another ride over the edge.

“Deal.” He barked shortly, a growl in his throat.

The Master grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Shigaraki.” Tossing him the keys to the lock on your cunt before snapping his fingers, gesturing for the bodyguard to do the same with the leash – pushing you in a wobbling stumble over to your new owner.

And then he really felt you tremble – soft yet stiff, bracing yourself against him – the smell of utter terror and arousal so thick he found himself drooling just at a single close whiff – all the hair on his tail spiked on strict end as a hunger growled low in his gut.

He felt his pants grow taut and gave a hiss – shoving you on your stomach in a sprawl onto the backseat. Throwing your legs inside before slamming the door shut – putting his fingers to his lips – your slick wet on them, glossy and sweet in his nose like a perfume as he licked them clean while getting in the car.

“Drive.” He muttered in another curt growl, signaling the man to his side to turn the keys as he pawed the straining tent bumping his boxers with yet another hiss.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, listening to you nom on your gag with wet cries and moans – his chest tight and brows furrowed – cursing having said yes to clean up another organization’s mess, and even more frustrated with your scent hanging heavy in the air, making everything spin for him – until finally reaching the base.

“Get out, Binky- welcome to your new home.”

He tugged your collar again soon after the car stopped, and out you shuffled – sweaty and shivering on legs that could barely hold their own weight – supported by the hand he had raked in your hair, pulling and dragging your body out into the cold.

Letting go once you were out of the backseat, he started fisting the leash instead, yanking you forward with heels clicking in no steady rhythm – wonky on the ground where you struggled to keep up with him. Slick between your thighs, rubbing together as you walked.

You were still blindfolded – floppy ears shifty at the sounds of doors opening and slamming shut, along with the threatening cheers of the crowd of villains drinking in the rooms the two of you passed. It’s as though he can hear you praying, hoping that he’s not planning on sharing you with the rest of the fray the way you flinch at the whistles and filthy comments being thrown your way.

You sped up until your tits bumped into his back – walking close with your head bowed to shield yourself.

Splitting a grin, he chuckled out a low snort. He hadn’t thought you’d be so silly to seek his comfort. But dumb as it was, his cock seemed to find it unexpectedly pleasant.

Reaching his room, he fished for his key – hands unsteady, tongue gracing his fangs as he unlocked it before stepping inside. Hauling you behind him into the musty space where he at once pounced on you like a predator who’d finally lost all patience.

Paws with claws gabbed your tit with a force that made you stumble – almost fall if he hadn’t tugged you back by your leash. His tongue ran wet over the sweet drool dripping down your neck and chin – his canines close to your neck, making you shiver and bleat for him while his hand dropped down to cup your sex.

Stopping short at the thick feel of latex beneath his fingertips, he growled and shoved you in a toppling wobble until your back hit the soft embrace of the bed behind you. You met it with a bounce and a yelp smothered in your gag – and he followed quickly, crawling on top of you with the key in hand. Carefully caressing the lock on your belt – thinking it would be a shame to destroy it when he could make use of it later. He would need to keep you protected if the way everyone eyed you was any indication. After all, he couldn't expect a base crawling with only carnivores to resist the scent of a herbivore as sweet as you.

He turned the key in the hole and pulled the cruel construction down your thighs, and you gave a whine, hips bucking at the release, quaking at the empty feeling while he eyed the lewd mixture of slick clinging in pretty bridges between the two closing holes and the two glossy rubber cocks still wet and warm with your heat.

“You make quite a slutty mess for a virgin.” He teased, with two of his coarse fingers dragging up your slick clit – gleeful eyes watching you squirm while releasing a strangled sound caught between a moan and a scream – riddled with overstimulation to the point you were cumming in spasms from only the single little touch.

He only chuckled at the sight. Leaving you to pant and quake beneath him – with shakey breaths anticipating the painful pleasure of his touch once again.

“Sensitive, scared, horny- tortured by your own fickle hormones and instincts- I know what you want…” He continued, now with the words leaving hot puffs against the slick skin on your thighs. “You want this teensy little rabbit hole destroyed by the big bad wolf….”

Your whimpers were like a symphony – sweet and softly tuned to strum every string in his gut – purring and stirring something sticky and heavy and starving inside of him.

“Look at this pussy….” He groaned with a click of his tongue – his eyes set on the wet puffy little thing between your legs. “So pretty- I could bite it.”

Your back took an arch, jumping from the bed once his hot mouth hit your mound – letting out another uncontrolled moan – heart pounding so loud and savagely in your chest he could feel it pulse on his tongue inside you as he lapped at you like a parched mutt.

His claws dug with greed, plunged deep into the cake of your thighs, locking you around his jaw where he mouthed at your core with eyes rolling back. Every fiber went on a rampage within him, zipping along his limbs and gathering in his gut like one tight-clenched aching fist.

“Mh-fuck-” He took a breath, mouth gaping and dripping with spit and slick before moving upward, sucking kisses into the soft skin of your tummy and soon locking his lips around your nipple – with one hand working your free titty, the other fucked your hole with horny curiosity, delving in the slick with twists and curls and scissoring.

You whined under his touches, quaking on all counts – listening to your hole squelch while your oh-so-sensitive insides clenched down hard from the warm knot coiling in your lower belly, coming so close to that all-over-feeling yet again – shaking your head in fear of it.

“Piss yourself if it helps- I don’t mind-” He growled out low in a whisper, his fangs against your throat now, grazing playfully with rugged breaths hot against your flushed skin. “I won’t stop until I’ve broken in each hole-”

Eyes big and swiveled with tears rippling down your cheeks in rushed rivulets, all the while your pussy made out with his fingers – feeling the fat digits test the flex of your gummy walls – slippery with slick and happily fluttering from his touches.

You soon caved for the umpteenth time – whole body strangling to suppress the sensation while unsure how much more you could take before going numb.

“Tch- there you go~ good bunny~” He praised in mockery, snickering at your panting – his breath hot on your skin where he moved to hover above your gagged lips – undoing the straps to free your mouth.

“Ah please, m-master- please- no more-” You immediately begged, mouth wet with drool.

“Mh- you’ve got manners…” He moaned, keeping his fingers in your cunt while holding you by the ear in the other hand, gripping it tight and rubbing the thin softness like a lucky charm. Tugging himself out of his pants, messy with pre, he immediately steered the fatness to your mouth. “Open up~”

You took it with a small whine, feeling it push onto your tongue and further in until it hit the back of your throat in a kiss. He gave a groan, feeling your bloated lips wrap around the shaft as you glucked on his length in soft mewls – eyes panning from the view to watch your little titties bounce at the movement, doing small jumps for him as he rammed your sweet face.

He removed your eyepatches – wanting to see your pretty eyes glossy and big for him as you sucked his cock.

The look on your face made his gut rumble – so sweet-looking with your cinched brows and button-nose – eyeing him with cute anxiety, no doubt taking in the scary sight of his red eyes and his pale skin littered with scars.

You coughed cutely when he withdrew, and he bent over to kiss you again, spit stringing between your tongues as his fingers went back to your clitty – rubbing crass circles into it that had you squealing into his mouth.

“Please, master-” You cried, wringing your thighs shut tight around his hand – tears springing from the pity puddles of your eyes as you looked at him with such plead it made his gut roar.

He could only offer a gleeful giggle, spreading your thighs by pulling you snugly around his waist – his cock jumping eagerly above your navel as he bore over you – his breath hot on your face. “Don’t worry, baby bunny, I’ll stuff you up good. Breed you full of a warm creampie in your tight little cunt.” He cooed, fangs sharp and glistening – his paw flat on your belly, rubbing the flesh with want. “Right here~ warm and thick in your little womb~”

You shuddered at the threat, then whined an open-mouthed moan as he sleaved himself inside you. Feeling his every fat vein rub along your walls until his plush head nudged tight against your cervix – making you mewl with an arch in your back, clenching hard around the size of him. Shaking from the toll of it.

He groaned, starting to pound you already – fast and deep, just like a hound rutting. “I’m gonna give you my knot, Bunbun-” He drooled, sucking your cheek with tongue and teeth – red eyes set on your plump and pouty lips – gaping open and begging for more while he continued raving. “Gonna knot you up so tight- make this virgin pussy tremble for me-”

You could only pant, getting run through at such a pace your next orgasm was fucked right out of you. Sweat pilled on your forehead and nose, thighs trembling as you came on his thickness in hot, heaving moans. Throttling his cock for cum – which he soon spilled deep inside you just like he promised – painting your insides with it with balls clenching up, resting snugly against the slick that spilled out.

He was messy when he pulled out again. Glossy and still raging fat as he rolled you over on your stomach – pulling your ass up by your hips while you remained breathless with exhaustion, smudged against the pillowy sheets beneath you.

He laid his meat between your asscheeks, eyes lazily looking over your dewy face and how pretty you looked fucked out on his bed.

“This bunny-hole’s never felt cock either, huh?” He said, voice breathy but eager still – planting his tip at the opening of the taut little entrance before beginning to push.

You moaned out again but could only ball your fists for purchase, still kept in a lock behind your back – tightening them until your knuckles whitened while he crammed himself inside you one stout inch at a time.

“Mmh- fuck, so tight~ it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good hugging me nice and snug~” He almost whined, getting swallowed down until his pelvis met your ass and the ball of fluff found there – doing a little dance just for him. “Fuck- look at you, little cottontail~” He groaned, leaving himself sunk down to the hilt inside you for a moment of appreciation before beginning to drag out to pound your stomach into a nice mess. “So perfect, I outta take a picture~”

tip-jar: Kofi

#yandere shigaraki #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shiggy #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #shigaraki smut #shigaraki thirst #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x you #tomura x you

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e-hibiscus · 19 days

Note

sfw and nsfw hc for the dog-coded PTN women?

🪼

Pairing: Rahu x fem!reader, Zoya x fem!reader, Cinnabar x fem!reader, Ninety-Nine x fem!reader

C.W: NSFW, Collars, muzzles, leashes, pet play(? kinda), more like talking about dog-coded women but cw none the less🫡

Author’s Note: Woof woof 🐶poupy poupy! Your ask was really vague so i didn't know what you wanted so i just went with whatever was in my mind. (Not proof read)

Minors DNI! | NSFW! under the cut

Rahu

Rahu would reluctantly, but still, let you put all these things on her. She’s tall. She’s scary. She’s intimidating! Like an obedient guard dog she’d keep it on and follow orders. Her self restraint can only last so long, but seeing her teary eyed and desperate makes it worth it.

Rahu get so sad when you don’t let her do anything but watch as you go about and do things. Poor woman wants to help you, but you remind her to stay put and not move or even hold you 😨 she just has to sit there while you grind on her thigh or ride her cock.

Rahu gets all whiney and desperate, hands clawing at the sheets beside her while she begs and begs for you to at least let her hold you. But that’s a reward only after she makes you cum a few times.

When she’s finally allowed to properly fuck you, Rhau will have been all pent up. Her hands dig into your hips with a bruising grip. Hips rutting into you like no tomorrow, all while muttering “i love you”, “thank you”, and “how good you make her feel” right by your ear.

The best Rahu can do is leave her mark by painting your insides white 😔 she can’t leave bite marks; only leaving imprints of the muzzle on your back, but this way you get to hear every sound Rahu would usually snuff out when sinking her teeth into the junction between your neck and shoulder. It’s okay though, you let her double her effort and let her mark you up this way.

Rahu can be dangerous, but she’s an obedient pup who listens to your orders. Advised for her to have a collar, muzzle, and lead 😔 so you can bully her frfr

Zoya

Zoya is big and strong. The scary dog gf privileges are on full display with this absolute hulk of a woman. She’s on top and in-charge. Good luck getting anything more than a muzzle or collar on this woman. If you're lucky, maybe Zoya will let you do both, but a leash is a no no because she wants to be free to do as she pleases.

Zoya places you on her lap, hands holding your waist in place as you squirm in her arms. Through the cage of the muzzle you see her smirking, amused by the small tug on her jacket. She’s entertained you enough hadn’t she? Putting on this stupid thing made her initially annoyed, but Zoya will make it work– even with it on.

With Zoya, she’s the one who lets you do this, not the other way around. If you get a little too cocky, or go too slow for her liking, Zoya will note it down and make you pay double as a reminder on who’s the one who wears the pants in the relationship.

Zoya gets a little frisky, maybe goes a little wild in pace as well, but she wouldn’t do anything that would intentionally hurt you (non-consensually).

At most, Zoya will fuck you into oblivion, taking you until your on the brink of passing out. Her hips move in hard languid strokes so her thick cock can hit all your sweet spots with as much strength she can muster.

You put a muzzle on Zoya to help “tame” her, so she’ll show you just how feral she can get in bed. You’re not going to be able to walk for the next few days, and what’s worse is the fact Zoya took the muzzle off anyway 😔 just so she can “properly” mark you up

Cinnabar

Cinnabar, Cinnabar, Cinnabar… The poster lady of golden retriever girlfriends who could honestly do no wrong. She’s a walking green flag and does not need any restraints whatsoever. No muzzle, collar, or leash required because Cinnabar can be your fluffy puppy or your guard dog on the dime; it's all down to the given situation!

Cinnabar is always eager to please. Her top and main priority is you, after all. If you’re feeling good, then so is she 🥺 Just make sure to complement and sing your praises. Cinna would absolutely melt from your sweet words.

Call her nicknames and she’ll go beet red. It's only because its you saying these sweet words, Cinna might just explode! Carefully guide her hands away from her face and you’ll see the absolutely adorable sight of your girlfriend flustered.

Cinnapup (nick-name curated from the lovely @/sinful-lanturns’s blog) can top or bottom for you. She prefers to be a service top above all else but Cinnabar can switch between the two, just for you.

Cinnabar as a top is careful with her ministrations. She is gentle, not wanting to hurt you in the slightest because she loves you so much. Her fingers are a little clumsy when they explore the wet cavern of your pussy. Her careful, cautious nature has Cinnabar unintentionally edging you 😰so you have to tell her to properly fuck you, but even then she goes too slow.

Ninety-Nine

Ninety-Nine is big, strong , and scary 😨 this woman is the most feral out of them. You’re gonna need everything to keep safe, and you definitely gonna get dragged or carried around by her. Ninety-Nine will be willing to wear a muzzle, collar, and lead, but you have to talk her through it. Bby trusts you not to do anything bad to her or Hella 🥺

She unironically growls. When it’s not anything serious it’s actually pretty cute 😔 Ninety-Nine often looks at you for guidance or orders, staying around because she likes your company (and you give her snacks).

My take is Ninety-Nine is like a Rottweiler? Big scary dog, but is not so secretly a great pup over all. That being said, with those Ninety-Nine considers “family” she will protect like her life depends on it. She’s using her entire body to shield you and will have no hesitation for snapping at anyone who tries to do anything to you.

Feral Ninety-Nine is a menace because even with a muzzle and collar it’s impossible to restrain her so she does what her instincts tell her. If that means shoving your head into the sheets and relentlessly rut her hips into you, then so be it 😔 her claw like hands dig into your skin; leaving little beads of blood in their wake. Your cries and whines partially register, and she lessens her grip on your sides

Ninety-Nine will go for as long as she wants. There’s just no way you’ll get out of her grip once she starts going to town on you. She’s an insatiable beast 😨 so good luck getting out of bed in the morning tomorrow cause you’re in for a long and difficult ride

#🌺.hibiscus writes #rahu x reader #zoya x reader #ptn cinnabar x reader #Ninety-Nine x reader #rahu smut #zoya smut #ptn cinnabar smut #ninety-nine smut #ptn smut #ptn x reader

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reveluving · 5 months

Text

a/n: while I received so many amazing thots (I'm not even joking. I'm still cooking <3), there wasn't any for Ale at all, and it didn't feel right ☝🏼🤨 so consider this a ‘reve's asks’ for our shy!wife collection! don't forget to leave some sugar!

Includes: pre-marriage (moved in together!), future mrs vargas is a little oblivious but that's okay, he loves her for it & tooth-rotting fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

“You're so cute!”

You were at it again.

“You're a good boy,” Smooch smooch, “Yes, you are,” Smooch, “Our best boy,” Smooch, “The most distinguished gentleman in the world.”

On most days, he would find it adorable. Seeing you bond with his fluffy pal despite the less-than-pleasant assumptions many have of the breed. But with the recent deployment lasting longer than usual, resulting in his return just yesterday, he was practically dying to have your attention.

But it seemed like Great Dane had the same plan, even though he got to spend time with you all the time.

You had a knack of nuzzling Hernando’s fur, especially his stomach area, on days where you found him extremely irresistible (which was always, to be honest). The pooch barely minded the lipstick stains you would sometimes leave on his silky fur, only caring about your attention more than anything.

But sometimes, Alejandro thinks he was also acting cute for you just to spite him.

He revealed himself from behind the wall, smoothing out the front of his shirt as if he had just come down from upstairs. Hernando laid on his back, enjoying your unlimited belly rubs and head smooches.

Though he and Hernando pretty much were fighting for even an ounce of you, he'd be lying if he said seeing you, sweet little you, taming a giant beast with little to no problem.

Be it a Great Dane, who turns into a baby when you're around or a muscular colonel, who worships his beloved like his life depends on it.

“Oh, Ale,” You smiled, small and shy, slightly embarrassed at the thought of him overhearing you baby-talking yet again, “Ready to head out?”

“Si,” He grinned, reaching for your hand for a sweet kiss before whispering against your temple, “You look beautiful as always, mi amor.”

It should've been too early to feel the burn in your face. Hell, you should've expected it, especially when he has never missed a day to compliment you.

“Thank you,” You looked down for a moment, biting down the giddy smile before meeting his eyes, “You look very handsome.”

“For you, amor, it would be a crime not to look my best.” He replied with zero hesitation, even puffing up his chest at your praise. He tried not to let his gaze linger, but oh, how impossible it was not to appreciate how your curves looked in your dress.

“Come,” He offered to hold the leash, partially to monopolize your attention as you walked, but just as you tried passing it to him, Hernando huffed. He sat on the floor as soon as it was in Alejandro's hand, seemingly persistent about not wanting to move when he was barking at the door just moments ago. He grumbled under his breath, knowing what the canine was trying to do, “Ay, dios mio.”

He should've seen it coming.

The deadpan on his face softened as he heard you giggle, hiding your amusement behind your hand.

“It's okay, he's probably just grumpy that we're late.” You were supposed to take him to the park nearly half an hour ago if it weren't for Alejandro's sudden need to trap you against the wall for kisses when he saw you exited the bathroom in just a towel.

And just as he suspected, Hernando jumped to his paws the moment Alejandro returned the leash in your hands.

Typical.

Still, Alejandro was able to wrap his arm around you without his pal protesting, and he took advantage of it like no other.

If one thought getting mauled by a giant dog for making a lady uncomfortable was already scary, they'd have to think again.

Now, they'd have to worry about the same dog and his tall, dark and handsome… and intimidating owner.

But each time Alejandro managed to steal your attention for a few seconds longer, Hernando tugged at the leash. Not to the point of hurting you from the suddenness or worse, causing you to fall, but enough for the man to realize the little game he was playing at.

But for just a moment, Hernando seemed distracted by the birds near the pond.

You noticed, and Alejandro most certainly did, and to his gratefulness, you unhooked the leash from his collar. Patting his head, you said, “Go on, buddy.”

Given the green light, he immediately zoomed towards the flock, his enormous size would scare the living shit out of a grown man, let alone some pigeons.

You were about to ask Alejandro what the two of you should do while Hernando was going crazy on his own, he took you by surprise when he wrapped his arms around you before dipping you just a little. A stark resemblance to a cheesy scene in a romantic drama.

The first thing you thought of doing as he embraced you was to cover your face with your hands. You were growing hot at the thought of the people, who were just trying to enjoy nature, seeing the passion your boyfriend was exhibiting in public.

The softness in the way he spoke your name, despite his deep, gruff voice prompted you to pull your hands, away, albeit slowly. His eyes held adoration, and just a hint of jealousy, you realized. Whether or not he was concealing the rest of his enviousness was unknown, but his stare was… intense, to say the least.

With one arm around you and the other holding your hand, he leaned in and almost immediately, you closed your eyes, anticipating his lips on yours despite the possibility of being watched.

But the kiss never came. Not fully. You could feel his lips but it was nothing more than a feathery touch.

“Kiss me,” He whispered, “Kiss me, and I shall show you how much I yearn for you always.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you shyly closed the distance, only to gasp when he returned the kiss feverishly. Like a man starved, he held you against him like a lifeline as he shamelessly groaned in the kiss.

But just as the passion clouded your mind, just as Alejandro was hoping to feel his lips against yours, you heard a bark.

And to your horror, Hernando was running towards the two of you at maximum speed.

Alejandro didn't waste any time, holding you to his chest while his back faced the Great Dane. Hernando body side-slammed into him, eliciting a grunt from Alejandro, followed by your squeal as your bodies tipped.

Alejandro was quick to turn amid the fall, being the first to hit the grass while he became your cushion.

You face planted into his chest, but it beats facing the same fate on the ground instead.

“Amor? Amor, are you okay?” He may have bore the brunt of it, but that didn't mean his worries were dispelled just yet.

You could've gotten seriously hurt!

Hernando had left the crime scene at this point, opting to play with the other dogs in the area, but Alejandro liked to think his buddy knew he was in trouble.

“I'm okay…” You raised your head with a tiny ‘ow’, only to begin fretting about falling on him. Thankfully, he laughed, a hearty one, the kind that you couldn't resist smiling at.

“I'm fine, don't worry,” Alejandro turned his head to the right, prompting you to follow his line of gaze. Hernando was having fun with a Pug and even an orange cat. One wouldn't have guessed he was the culprit of you and Alejandro's current state, “I guess he really is mad about us being late.”

You traced your fingers along his chest, “That's your fault.”

“Oh? I don't think you were very innocent either.” He teased back, not bothering to move his hands that were resting on your back, “But can you blame me? I can't let ‘Nando take up all of your attention, now that I'm back.”

“He's just feeling playful, now that you're back.”

“More like a pain in the ass,” He mumbled, only to let out a painless ‘oof’ when you smacked his chest with an ‘Ale!’. He grinned, showing off his pearly whites as a way to say he was not sorry before gripping you tighter for a bear hug, “Come here!”

He paid your squeaks and whines no mind, just content to be the one kissing you and making you laugh at that moment.

And though he'd have a little word with Hernando about nearly getting you hurt, he'd also like to say one thing.

“Thanks, hermano.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

#— reve's reverie 🌹#— reve's asks 🌹#eyes locked hands locked series #idk why but this piece gives me strong very very very by ioi vibes #the song not the lyrics :P #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x f!reader #alejandro vargas x you #colonel alejandro vargas #cod alejandro #cod alejandro vargas #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod mwii #cod mw2

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sinsmockingbird · 5 months

Note

gentle yet desperate... yeah, that's the right definition. she's your loyal dog after all, your own well tamed doberman. your shackles on her are almost the same as a leash and a leather collar, she's obedient and patient, eager to copy anything you tell her to do.

when you take control in your gentle palms and ride her, throwing your head back and rolling your hips in circles, she becomes a whimpering and growling mess. she wants it faster, rougher, rahu needs to fuck you properly, make you bounce on her like some helpless toy. unfortunately, she's not allowed to move at all... well, only because she looks so cute with her lips rosy, cheeks red and bangs stuck to her forehead you let her grab your hips and caress your thighs (gently!!).

rahu's a soldier, right? she must have proper self-control! at first she dreamed about using you as a flashlight but it all ended up in you using her as a nice thick warm dildo bulging your lower stomach. ah doesn't that feel good?

rahu scratches your thighs, you can feel her dick throbbing inside you as she almost cries, begging you to allow her to let it go. you smile in response and stop moving, then bend over her, whisper right into her lips: «attack». as if you are giving a command to a puppy, she doesn't make you wait a second, thrusting inside you with an inadequate speed and force, rolling over the bed with you and pinning your body to it with her whole weight.

damn... rahu's composure and patience are something else for real. but her eagerness... even better.

So, so true. Oh my god I feel so spoiled to keep getting these asks, especially for Rahu... Ough I'm not okay about this woman!

CW: Smut under the cut.

Moving your hips against Rahu's as you move yourself up and down her cock has her throwing her head back and letting pathetic whines and whimpers slip past her lips. She isn't allowed to move, instead she can only stay still under you as you use her cock like your own personal dildo -- instead this one is warm and pulsing deep inside you.

Her eyes are trained solely on you, watching your breasts move hypnotically with each of your bounces. Then her eyes trail down, and it's taking everything in her to not fuck up into you as she sees the bulge in your lower stomach. A bulge that was created from her cock.

Rahu wanted to touch you so bad, to just hold onto your hips and roll her own up into you. She wanted to aid your movements, but you had told her to not touch and to not do anything. She was too obedient to not refuse your commands, even if everything in her screamed to grab, fuck, and breed you.

She clenched her jaw, hips stuttering only a little as you begin circling your hips against hers. She grabs fistfuls of the sheets under you, beginning to tear them as she holds her control. Her breathing is ragged (more so than you) and there are tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

You gazed down at her, seeing how much she was breaking from having to hold herself back. You leaned down towards her, watching her eyes slightly clear from lust and focus on you. Her eyes held a hope in them, and you knew that she was anticipating you to let her have her way.

But, not just yet.

"You've been so good," You mutter, moving to grab her shaking hands and place them on your thighs. "I'm gonna let you touch only there, okay? But only there."

Rahu nodded her head, her fingers quickly gripping your hips tightly, making you let out a moan as you falter your movements. It makes her growl, low and deep, and she holds onto your hips tighter, her nails lightly digging into your skin. She's letting out more groans and whines as you begin moving faster.

Your rolling your hips more, bouncing up and down her cock at a more rapid pace, each thrust down making her tip hit a specific wall inside you that made your head spin. You gasp, hands planting themselves firmly onto her chest for stability as you continue, the feeling of your orgasm building up more and more.

Rahu can feel her own, and she's teetering on the edge of euphoria the more you move and the more you clench around her. She's breathing heavily, tears finally falling down her face as she tries to focus on holding on, her nails scratching desperately at your hips.

"N-Need..!" Rahu sucked in a breath, her gut tightening as she tries to hold her orgasm back. "P-Please! Please I-I need-!"

"W-What is it, puppy? What do you need?" You whisper, moving your face closer to her, a taunting smile on your face as you begin to slow your movements down, immediately eliciting a frustrated growl from her.

"Release!" Rahu gasped, nails scratching a bit more roughly into your skin, making you hiss in pain. "I need to cum!"

"You need release?" You smirked, completely stopping your movements and leaving Rahu to throw her head back in irritation as she feels her orgasm die down. You lean down, brushing your lips Against hers and whispering a simple command to her.

"Attack."

The second that single word leaves your lips, Rahu's eyes dilate and suddenly she becomes the predator. She's holding your hips tightly in her hands, let's out a deep growl before flipping you over on the bed and onto your back. You gasp at the action before crying out as she slams her entire length into you.

Rahu doesn't even hesitate to start fucking you rough and deep. She pushes her cock deeper into your pretty cunt, making the bulge in your lower stomach grow a bit more with each thrust. There's a ferocity swirling in her eyes as she digs her nails into your hips, drawing blood as she anchors you down onto the bed and has her way with you.

"Gonna fill you up," Rahu grunted, moving to push your knees up to your chest and pressing her entire weight onto you. "Gonna breed you..!"

"Yes! P-Please, Rahu!" You squeal, your desperation for her to breed you just as apparent as hers.

She lets out a low growl, pinning you fully under her as her cock pistons in and out of you in such deliciously violent thrusts. You wrap your arms around her neck, tears spilling from your eyes at the treatment, staring absently up at the ceiling as all you can focus on is the hard dick pounding you.

Your nails dig into her back, and you hear a sharp hiss from Rahu as you drag them down her back, breaking the skin and making blood bubble up. Though the feeling makes stings of pain shoot through her back, it doesn't deter her from fucking you -- if anything it pushes her to be rougher.

It's all beginning to become too much, and it doesn't take much longer until Rahu is burying her cock fully into you, letting out several whines before she cums into you. You let out a silent scream, cumming as well. The feeling of being filled by her cum making your mind blank.

After several, long seconds, Rahu slowly pulls out of you, groaning as she looks down to see your mixed cum leaking out of your gaping hole. It stirs her lust once again, and suddenly she's wanting to fuck you again -- but she holds herself back (like she always does) when she sees your eyes drooping in exhaustion.

"Did I go too far?" Rahu asks, feeling a pang of worry strike her as she realizes how badly she had just lost control on you.

"N-No..." You quickly answer, opening your eyes and giving Rahu a reassuring smile as you reach a hand up to caress her cheek, and she immediately nuzzles her face into your palm. "I actually don't think you went far enough."

Rahu's eyes snap open, immediately darkening with lust as she registers the meaning behind your words. "Are you asking..?"

You chuckle softly, leaning up and whispering two words that has her groaning and pinning you to the bed. "Round two?"

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins inbox #*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins thirsts #path to nowhere #ptn smut #rahu #ptn!rahu #sub!rahu #rahu x reader #rahu x you

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kissitbttr · 16 days

Note

ok hear me out, frat!miguel is now professionalplayer!miguel and is asked to do a photoshoot for sports illustrated or sum shit lol and he’s asked about his fiancé, what would he say? how would muñeca react???

nfl!miguel?? say no more!

—

“miguel o’hara! the upcoming legend, how you doing?” brice butler greets the tall man with a handshake. “damn, you huge” he chuckles,

miguel mirrors his action, sitting by the side with a mic on his hand. “i’m good, good—it’s an honored to meet you, man. big fan”

“thank you, thank you— so, sports illustrated, right? how you feeling about that?”

“yeah, truly a blessing to be here—i want to personally thank the team and you for the invite—it’s still surreal” he sighs, head shaking at making the impossible.

“we know talent when we see one, of course we gotta have you on here” brice praises with a grin. “congrats on making it with the big boys. bengals, man” he shakes his head with a whistle,

“still can’t wrap my head around it—a dream come true” miguel nods,

“how’s the training going?��

“really well, i have a good feeling about all of us in the future—the team has been putting in work, so there’s no doubt we’re making it” he answers simply, which is something he knows for sure,

“that’s good to hear, man. what’s the hardest part of it all? though i can tell, you make it easy but there’s gotta be something”

miguel thinks for a while, “the diet if i’m being honest” he responds, making the two men laugh. “can’t pay me enough to eat chicken and rice for months—especially when you got a girl who cooks delicious food. you’re bound to break”

brice eyes go wide open, glancing at the camera then back at him. “a girl you say? you’re telling me our man here is cuffed?!” he asks excitedly,

miguel’s grin goes wider, nodding at him before showing his ring finger. “my fiancée. y/n”

“you’re going to break a lot of hearts with that info” brice jokes, admiring the ring. “how long have you been together?”

“sophomore” he replies, eyes glinting at the mere thought of you crossing his mind. “been my girl ever since”

“wow!” brice looks unbelievably surprised. “staying loyal, huh?”

“she tames me” miguel laughs, “has me wrapped around her finger, couldn’t even find other girls attractive no more” he shrugs,

“damn—other men has lots to learn from you then” brice answers with a smile. “how did she feel about this all of this?”

“oh she’s been real supportive, man. everything a guy could ever asked for. she got it all” miguel feels this interview a little bit brighter when he gets to talk about you. “pushes me to do better, to sign with bengals, cook us food”

brice makes a mental note on what makes him happy. he loves seeing young men in the making to feel good on what they talk about and not just football.

it’s where authenticity comes. at least to brice.

“so happy for you man—at least now we know that you’re locked in. those edits on tiktok gotta lay off” brice says while chuckling, making miguel laugh as well and throws his head back,

“she’s here actually” he mentions to brice, eyes then look straight ahead before glancing a bit to the left, spotting you standing just a few feet away from the camera in a pretty dress. “say hi, baby” miguel calls out, grinning widely.

the camera then pans slowly at you, who smiles and gives a shy wave and ‘hi’ at your soon to be husband and the interviewer beside him,

“hi, mrs. o’hara” brice waves back, “you keeping this big boy on a leash, ma’am?”

“oh always! people has to know who he’s tied to so no one’s messing with me!” your respond causing the entire room to cheer and laugh,

“feisty one you got there, o’hara” brice is dying of laughter, slapping a hand on miguel’s back,

miguel’s eyes never leaving your figure, sending a wink to your way as you response with a small blow kiss.

“you have no idea, man”

#frat!miguel

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ly-luna · 7 months

Text

valeria garza headcannons

some silly head cannons of my wife

〘Sfw〙

had a emo phase when she was 12-14 and gets annoyed/embarrassed when people bring it up

Doesn't like dogs that much but had a pitbull she adored

Likes more savory/spicy foods over sweet

Has a small dumb tattoo on her torso she got when she was a dumb teen

She's a lesbian and she's known since she was 13

If anyone trys to scare her she'll just look at them with a blank stare annoyed or confused

Listens to traditional Mexican songs sometimes

She's an atheist

Her love language is acts of service and gift giving

She's serious but has a special place in her heart for her lover

Likes to cuddle but would never admit it

Not that big on PDA but like a to hold her lovers hand or wrap an arm around their waist when in public

Brings back things for her lover she thinks are neet and that they might like

Favorite color is purple

She's 5'8

Had long hair but cut it off during a identity crisis when she was a teen and has kept it short ever since

likes birds

Brings her lover cut up fruit as a way to say sorry since she has a hard time admitting she's wrong or saying sorry verbally

She m ay be a cartel leader but she takes care if herself. She has Thick, silly smooth hair that smells nice

She knows she can be a player if she wanted but she's not like that

〘NSFW〙

Rough in bed but her aftercare is nice

Not a one night stand kind of girl she likes to pamper and spoil someone

She likes to spank

"aw, is it to much for you" in a teasing tone and with a mocking pout

Has a 9 inch black strap, and a vibrator in her lovers favorite color

Very talented with her tongue and fingers

Kinks: praise, degrading, spanking, bondage, biting, edging, release denial, over stimulation, brat taming, crying, begging, worship (her), has a little of a breeding kink, and mild pet play

She will only bottom if her lover begs but is a power bottom and always ends up making her lover cum

Has a leash and collar for her lover with "valeria garza's plaything" engraved in to the fine leather

Safe word is red but it's not for her if yk what I mean

Not afraid to fuck her lover in front of her men in the cartel

Her lover has her initials engraved into their hip (with consent ofc)

Possessive when it comes to her lover

Adores seeing her lover covered in her cum

If her lover has a penis hand jobs under a table is a must for her

Has a lot of "toys"

Make-up sex is her go to but if that doesn't work she'll pamper you until you forgive her

Both ass and tits girl

#valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza #valeria mw2 #valeria garza cod #valeria garza smut #call of duty #headcanon

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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

Text

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

2/2: think about me while you do it [SMUT]

{ masterpost : 2/2 }

Summary: In which Oliver puts you in your place, and makes you beg to be there.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, dehumanising language and overall incredibly degrading talk, BDSM, leashes, dacryphilia(crying), reader being treated like a dog, bondage & restraints, creampie, so much begging, sir kink, oliver having the time of his life as a manipulative dom, pet name used for the reader "princess" and being referred to as "good girl"

A/N: 7434 words. never ever as long as i live will i ever write this pairing (farleigh/brat!reader/oliver) again, and not only can you quote me on that, but you can take it to the fucking bank. that being said, i did genuinely LOVE writing this, i think they're dynamic is so incredibly fun to explore, and honestly there's something hot about the mind games they all play on each other. it's just that it takes FUCKING FOREVER for them to do anything because they all hate each other. well, you and farleigh hate oliver and he hates both of you, but you also like to cause problems on purpose which pisses them both off. i love it. i never want to write them again. 10/10 LETS GET WEIRD WITH IT i would love to know what you guys think about this all :) oh also we definitely get heavy on the farleigh/oliver in this as well

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Farleigh has always had these long, delicate fingers that Oliver's been fascinated by since they'd met, since he'd grabbed his thigh - so achingly briefly - in their tutor's office and levelled a grin that surely read as apologetic to the professor for running late, but turned so immediately dismissive the minute his gaze flicked to Oliver himself. For so long as Oliver wormed his way into Felix's life, into his circle of friends, that's all Farleigh had been; dismissive looks and long, enticing fingers poised with cigarettes and disdain like he was a model for Marlboro.

But the coldness in Farleigh's eyes turned warmer, especially over the Summer at Saltburn, and Oliver couldn't deny the heat of his frustration didn't have some kind of want pitting in his stomach. Anger and lust have never truly been strangers, at least not if he was judging by the way Farleigh had been looking at him tonight.

Now, Farleigh was looking at you with that heat in his eyes, looking at your parted lips and breathless smile like he wanted to devour you whole after so readily giving in to Oliver's degradation. Then he's watching the gentle way Oliver caresses your face in the moments that follow, and that heat too turns degrading.

"You really have no self respect," he scoffs; the mood shifts sharply to the left. There's that look in your eyes again like you're on the verge of causing more trouble.

"He said I had no manners!" You protested as Farleigh moved back from you, "my etiquette teacher would be rolling in her grave if she heard that!"

"Etiquette teachers aren't a real thing, are they?" Oliver, genuinely baffled enough to be pulled out of his earlier mood, automatically shuffles back as Farleigh gently pushes you over. You land on your stomach with a humph, hands still trapped at the small of your back, though now Oliver can see the skilled, tight way his belt was binding them. It conjures up images of expensive leather contraptions, restraints, and you on display, desperate for a hungry-eyed academic like Farleigh who'd actually put in the work to study how to best tame a beast like you.

"Do you think she ever stops to think why we call her a princess?" Farleigh scoffs in a brief moment of solidarity as he reclines on the bed. Oliver actually, genuinely laughs at that, much to your chagrin, at least until Farleigh's hand, those beautiful fingers, pushing down the waistband of his own boxers to finally give his cock some sorely needed attention. "Don't think your manners are the most scandalous thing you've been a part of tonight," he adds, turning his head to you with a deliciously sly smile, "your etiquette teacher know you beg like that?"

Oliver had caught sight of the way you were pouting, legs kicking ineffectually against the end of the bed considering how you were trapped in your position, like a little worm. You turned your head to face Farleigh with that same sulky expression, like all three of you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"My arms hurt," is all the response you give.

"Good," Oliver hadn't meant to say that out loud, nor had he entirely realised how fucking pleased he'd sounded as he'd said it, but it had seemingly escaped him nonetheless. His focus had been caught on the lazy rhythm Farleigh had been using to keep himself hard, but he still found himself enjoying the sound of your complaints, it seemed.

And your reactions to him; the way your fingers curled, the shiver he could see run down the length of your spine, and how quickly you had to press your face into the mattress, most likely embarrassed by whatever Farleigh would have seen in your expression. It seemed Farleigh himself wasn't even immune, cock momentarily twitching in his hand before Oliver realised how long he'd been staring, and that Farleigh's bright yet smug expression had meant he'd definitely noticed.

"You are taking to this remarkably fast," Farleigh sounds almost pleased, almost proud. You tell him to shut the fuck up, face still pressed against the duvet, but can't kick anyone from this angle, much to his ongoing amusement.

Surfacing, but still rather flustered, you announce sharply that you're not touching either of them until you can use your hands again. Oliver remarks that that's the point, and there's a part of him that's far too pleased about how it makes Farleigh laugh too. Of course this sets you off - he should have known - but it's easy enough for Oliver, sitting on his knees beside you on the bed, to keep you from sitting up too far once you've managed to roll over onto your back.

He knows he's different in this light, leaning over you, everything awash with the blue and silver of the night. For just a moment, it's as if you know you're helpless, his hand flat and warm on your chest, on your sternum, and you can see it in his eyes that he thinks you're helpless beneath him too. The chain around his neck hangs like the sword of Damocles above your own throat, and with the blue, searching, hungry eyes of a man who remembers every last cruel remark you'd tossed at him in the past week.

"Can I at least get some water?" You break the moment, and Oliver almost has to laugh, "it's not funny, I'm thirsty and for some reason," you pointedly rolled your eyes, words dripping with sarcasm, attempting to regain some of the composure you liked to carry yourself with, "I can't move my arms."

"Of course, your highness," Oliver briefly acquiesces, lips twitching into a smile as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom, hoping their was some kind of cup in their. Re-joining the room, he finds Farleigh to be amused, and you to still be on your back, annoyed -

"- not kidding, I'm not doing anything with either of you if you don't take this belt off of my damn hands," you were still insisting. Farleigh just grinned.

"Yeah, Miss Green-Light-Princess, we'll see about that."

Considering how your expression scrunched up to something almost flustered, and you didn't have any kind of comeback, it was safe to say you were still on board, just as Farleigh was delighted to call you out on it. Oliver reintegrates himself, sits himself on the edge of the bed and wears a little smile even as you call him your hero with more bitter sarcasm than he's ever heard from anyone in his life.

"Sit up," so gentle, so opposite of the ways he's been speaking to you just before he'd left; Farleigh is regarding him curiously, but you just roll your eyes. Now that Oliver knew inside and out - pun entirely intended - you were deliciously predictable. Easy to lull into a false sense of superiority.

"I can't."

"Roll over," the sweetness is quickly disappearing. For a brief moment, Farleigh's gaze meet's Oliver's, and he knows exactly what Oliver's doing, even if you haven't clued in. There's a spark of devilish glee that they share in this moment, but Oliver can't let it show on his face.

"What?"

"Roll over, I'll help," Oliver's smile doesn't reach his eyes, but you dubiously agree. Perhaps you think he'll undo the restraints around your wrists. Of course he won't, you should know better than that.

With you obediently on your stomach, Oliver puts the water on the nightstand. One hand goes to your shoulder, the other holds your shoulder.

"Now princess," he murmurs low in your ear, tone oozing condescension, "sit," like ordering a dog when he pulls you upright; you don't even fully notice at first, the pressure from the angle that he pulls your arms makes them ache once more, but then you're sitting up on your knees, and Oliver's lips are inches from yours, leaning into your space with intent, "stay," and you go quiet.

There is fury when he looks in your eyes; your jaw twitches as you bite down on a hundred different retorts. There's something intoxicating about you, the way everything you do in these moments is a war between your cruel nature and your hedonistic desires. You want to kick him, you want him to spit in your mouth, you want to ruin him, you want him to ruin you. All of it is written in your eyes.

You have spent all week treating Oliver Quick like nothing more than a dog; you hate that it turns you on when he returns the favour.

Farleigh is eating this interaction up, watching like a hunter who lay in wait for his prey, content with how Oliver so skilfully toyed with you -

"There's a leash in the bottom draw of the night stand -"

"Farleigh Start, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands when I get them back," you hissed, but Farleigh's comment had piqued Oliver's curiosity. Before you could even look back to give Farleigh a withering glare, Oliver's hand found your throat. Thumb and fingers against your delicate pulse points, not yet cutting off the blood flow, but right where they needed to be.

Ironically it's Farleigh's voice in the back of his mind, a night out at the pub where it had just been mostly guys, and somehow the topic of their sex lives came up. It had been Farleigh who had rolled his eyes and explained - it's here, idiot - reaching over to demonstrate on Felix himself - it's cutting off the blood flow that makes their head spin, not actually choking them to death. Gorgeous fingers momentarily placed on his cousin's throat, Oliver had memorised the placement. Considering what he now knew of Farleigh's relationship with you, he didn't need to guess why he was so sure back in the pub.

"Didn't say speak."

"I'd kick you if I could," your lip curled, even as his grip on your throat tightened. That fire in your eyes was betrayed by the way your heartbeat practically danced beneath his fingertips, "give me my water, I wasn't kidding about that."

There's a long, tense moment where Oliver deliberates. Then, very slowly, he lets you go, and turns, reaching over to the night stand. Out of the corner of his eye there's a very sudden flurry of movement, and of Farleigh moving unexpectedly fast. The water actually shakes with it, spills and splashes several drops onto his thighs, cold in the humid room, before he turns to see the tableaux of attempted rebellion. Farleigh looks still amused, but rather exasperated, like he expected as much, expected to have his hand in your mouth, your teeth in his palm, other hand digging nails into your shoulder as he attempted to hold you back.

"It's like you forgot, Ollie," Farleigh says with a mean little smile, "my dog's the kind that bites," still he plays along, the words coming out lazily despite how he seems to actually have to work to pull his hand from your mouth. Your anger at being thwarted seemed to simmer just beneath your skin; this smile you now wear is laced with malice that hadn't been there before.

"Just having some fun," you practically spat, with both of Farleigh's hands now on your shoulders, holding you in place. This malevolence is it's own kind of fun; your desire to hurt, to wound, to sink your teeth in like a cornered animal betrays you to Oliver. Your pride is starting to win over your desire; your capacity for cruelty is overcoming your desire to be put in your place. Perhaps it was getting to real, perhaps you remembered how much better you supposed you were than Oliver himself. This is exactly how he wants you.

Princess. Collared.

Taking a deep, deliberate breath, Oliver levels a flat, unimpressed look at you. Both you and Farleigh are waiting, watching, letting him lead in this moment, and he does. Water in one hand, he carefully reaches down to the bottom drawer of the nightstand - when you move, the bed moves with you, but Farleigh's grip on you never yields, never lets you lunge at Oliver the way you keep trying. The collar is sleep and simple, padded on the inside, with a leash to match. It even has a little bell, and an engraved tag.

Bitch.

Oliver chuckles a laugh as he reads it, he can't help himself.

"Farleigh thinks he's very funny," you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what Oliver had found so amusing. Farleigh does look particularly pleased with himself over your shoulder.

"It was true when I got it engraved and it's still true now."

But Oliver's moving on again, asking Farleigh to hold the glass of water for him as he fiddles with the collar. He is quiet, intense, arms around your neck as he takes his time doing up the collar; his face is so close to yours, sharing your furious, shaking breathes.

"How is our princess feeling?" Oliver takes the moment to check in, genuine, though it seems to irritate you further, "green light?"

"Do not flatter yourself into thinking I am yet speechless," you spit, "if I truly thought you offered me nothing, and wanted nothing more from you, I am more than capable of making that abundantly clear." You were endlessly fascinating to Oliver; you wanted to maim him, but you wanted him nonetheless. He tightens the collar around your neck. Farleigh still has one hand on your shoulder; his thumb comes to press against the edge of the collar, against your skin meeting the leather as he makes a pleased hum. "Green fucking light, scholarship boy," you give a mocking little smile to Oliver, the bitterness never leaving your eyes.

"Good -" the moment Oliver has latched the collar, has the leash curled at the back of your neck around his fist, you strain forward against it. The bell rings with the movement, a delicate sound for an indelicate moment -

"But I am warning you," forehead pressed against Oliver's, you're straining for any inch, any millimetre more you could get from his unyielding grip on your leash, you practically snarl against his lips with venomous hatred, "about what you will get when you treat me like a dog." Yet Oliver makes sure to remain impassive, perhaps even a little amused, in the face of your threats.

"If I can't make you bark like a good girl, princess," Oliver murmurs, catching your lips in a kiss even as you try to bite him, pulling back with a cold smile, "then I'm going to make you beg."

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Farleigh's voice purrs in your ear, and some of the viciousness about you eases. You sit back, back out of Oliver's space, and watch as Farleigh hands the water back to Oliver's waiting hands, trading him for the leash.

"For you," there's contempt in your eyes as you watch Oliver while addressing Farleigh, "I'll think about it."

Oliver's gaze meet's Farleigh's as he presses his laughter to your shoulder; something in his eyes almost says, well, good luck, I tried. Like Oliver isn't revelling in this chance you've laid before him; like he doesn't know how quickly your body betrays you at every single opportunity.

"If you want some water, you have to ask nicely," Oliver offers. A pause follows, and he watches you change tact.

You relax, letting the fight leave you, pressing yourself back against Farleigh as much as you could. Feeling his face so close to yours you turn, practically nuzzling against him.

"Even if I'm nice, he's going to be mean about it," your voice comes out so sweetly, so transparently manipulatively, "I just want a drink of water, you wouldn't make me beg for a drink of water, Farleigh," you insist, voice plaintive, all doe-eyed and pouting and not looking at Oliver.

"I can and I have and you didn't complain this much," Farleigh saw fit to remind you, giving a wide, mean smile. Your lip began to quiver.

"You're not even fucking me and I'm going to cry," you tried whimpering.

"Funny how none of those sound like any of those safe words," Oliver points out. Your lip stops quivering, in fact, you glare at him out of the corner of your eye as you pout, still trying to be soft and gentle with Farleigh.

"That's because they're not," Farleigh says far too knowingly, far too smugly, muttering into your ear once more, though loud enough for Oliver to clearly hear how sharp and praising it is, "and aren't you pretty when you cry."

"Can't cry if I'm dehydrated," you huff, and finally Farleigh, with a roll of his eyes, gives in with a sigh.

"Give her the water."

You immediately perk up, looking far too pleased to be getting your way, and lean forward expectantly. Oliver will give you this - and only this - before he drags every bit of satisfaction out of you that he wants. So he is careful, doesn't let the water spill, lets you breathe between mouthfuls when you indicate.

"All of it; it's good for you," still he tells you, tone like a teacher, cup insistent at your lips.

"Yes sir," you managed sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you drank more of the water, but something snapped, rewired in Oliver's brain. Farleigh could see it too.

"Oh he liked that," he commented, eyes alight with intrigue, and you frowned as you indicated for Oliver to lower the cup.

"I'm not saying it again."

"The optimism you have about what you will and won't do tonight is adorable," Farleigh tells you, planting a teasing kiss on your cheek, while you tell him to piss off.

"Give me the last of my water, you fuck," you finally manage, and Farleigh finally feels like he can lay himself back down, cackling at your audacity in the face of everything that had just happened. He also drops the leash, at least confident in either Oliver, or his own reflexes, for the time being, "do you want me to drink it all or not? Pick a lane."

Oliver, glass in one hand, reaches between your legs with the other. Immediately, you close your eyes, breath catching, knowing exactly what he was playing at.

"Is that how you think you're going to get fucked tonight?" No response; Oliver's thumb begins moving on your clit, pressing insistent circles as your breathing grows deeper, "are you going to be a good girl?"

"I'm not going to bark for you," you manage through gritted teeth, though after a moment, you half stutter out a moan, "please can you let me finish my water?" Two fingers slide teasingly down your slit, "please, Oliver -" you swallow hard, eyes opening to meet his; he can see this almost pains you, "please Oliver Quick, can I have the last of my water?" Those two fingers inside of you, curling, teasing, pulling a groan from you, eyes fluttering closed, and your voice barely above a whisper, "may I finish my water, sir?"

Oh yes, he did like hearing that from you.

"Of course," Oliver sits back, pleased, licking his fingers clean like a pleased cat while assisting you with finishing off the glass of water. You can't meet his gaze, already embarrassed by how quickly you'd given in. He watches your tongue dart out across your lips, collecting the few drops that had strayed, clinging to the edges of your lips. Beautiful mouth, he's sure he can put it to good use.

"All better, princess?" Farleigh snarks from behind you. Oliver thinks he can see you bite back on a harsh retort, and once again watches you change tact. Shifting away from him, half turning so you were now perpendicular to Farleigh and able to properly look at him, you wriggled your legs out from under you, perhaps a little more comfortable to your side, like a Victorian woman on a fainting sofa, it's an unassumingly sweet pose for the situation. Though it clearly matched the energy you were trying to give off.

"Yes, Farleigh, thank you, Farleigh," without even sparing Oliver a single glance. For a long moment, Farleigh's gaze slides from your innocent act to Oliver, looking unamused and still holding the empty glass. A strange moment of understanding passes between them the minute Farleigh sees Oliver's gaze snap to the leash down your back. So he sits, leans in close to you, and takes your face in one hand. It's clear you're leaning in to this perceived moment of tenderness, but Farleigh stops, a breath from your lips.

"You fucking bit my hand," his voice ice cold, you see there's no humour in his eyes as you pull back and try to stammer out something, anything, genuinely caught off guard, "so thanks won't cut it, princess; you can start with an apology."

"I -" you begin to frown, but then the bed dips behind you, and Oliver's cool hand is grasping at the leash, pulling gently.

"Didn't say speak," he warned, and didn't even give you a moment to butt in before continuing, "show Farleigh you're sorry."

Farleigh, clearly delighted by this turn of events, sits himself up, shuffling back to lean comfortably against the headboard. This confidence becomes him, legs spread in invitation, generous cock resting hard and wanting against the smooth plane of his stomach. For several long moments, Oliver watches Farleigh lazily stroke himself, simply watching you and Oliver through a smug, half-lidded gaze.

"You should see yourselves," the teasing barely hides how his voice is dripping with want. Unsurprisingly, you try to play it off, becoming flustered at the implication of you staring, of how much you knew you wanted him. But Oliver meets Farleigh's gaze, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Farleigh's smile widens.

"Aren't you lucky?" Oliver murmurs into your ear, grip on your leash tight as he keeps his eyes locked with Farleigh's. Though you've gone quiet, Oliver's unsatisfied with your lack of proper response, and gives a pointed yank on your collar.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm lucky," you sighed faintly, "sir." Farleigh snorts a laugh, and Oliver grins, shuffling himself to sit on Farleigh's other side, by his hip, and looks expectantly at you before giving your leash a tug. At least you seem to be getting into this, considering you actually perk up, scrambling as best you could to sit yourself between Farleigh's legs.

There's something about the gleeful little grin that you give Farleigh in this moment that give away how much genuine joy and anticipation you have to have your mouth on his cock. He too seems at home in this moment, settling back against the headboard with his hands behind his head. It's almost cute, your eagerness, the way you lean down in anticipation before.

"Can I have my hands back now?"

Farleigh goes to sit up, goes to say something, as if he'd realised you'd probably need your hands for the act, but Oliver cuts him off before he can.

"No." And it's too firm for him to argue with. When you look at Oliver this time, there's something there that wasn't before. A moment of genuine doubt, a moment of genuine submission.

"Sir, I think I need my hands for this," instead of argumentative, it's almost pleading. This is the moment he knows he's starting to win. Oliver tips his head to the side, as if regarding you curiously.

"Do you?" He can see the doubt in your eyes grow; it's driving him mad the way he's holding himself back, but good things take time.

"I think so," you don't sound sure.

Oliver moves slowly, deliberately, and makes sure you're following his movements. Farleigh's cock twitches in Oliver's cool hand, but all Farleigh does is let out a low, pleased hum. He starts simply, thumb gliding over his slit, collecting the precum that had been beading there, hand then moving up and down in even strokes. For a moment, he chances a glance at Farleigh, only to see his head lolling back against the bedframe, pleased smile on his lips.

When an actual whimper escapes you, and Oliver feels you tug on your leash in his other hand, he remembers his task at hand. There's lust in your eyes as you wriggle, thigh clenching and rubbing together at the sight of Oliver working Farleigh's cock. This might be far easier than he thought.

"You want this?" Just like a pet owner with their clearly eager dog, Oliver teases you.

"Yes," your practically bark, breathless and eager and embarrassingly fast. It actually seems to catch both Oliver and Farleigh off guard, Farleigh's cock clearly reacting positively in Oliver's hand to your obvious desire, and Oliver giving Farleigh a genuinely impressed look.

"Never seen someone so eager to get their mouth around a cock before; you must've done something special to her."

"Do you want me to teach you or do you want me to show you?" Farleigh's eyes shine as brightly as his smile in the silver-blue glow of the night. Oliver's mouth goes dry at the thought, his own cock aching at the mere thought of what it would be like to look up at Farleigh with his smug approval - knew you could be boy for me, Oliver - and he wants to hate the idea, but he can't. But he doesn't get the chance to respond -

"No, mine," slips from you like a whine, unexpectedly possessive. It brings both boys' attention back on you, however, and you seem to realise your slip up. Mouth opening and closing, you can't even seem to find the words to defend yourself; at least you've learned to shut up.

"Careful princess," Farleigh says surprisingly coldly, slipping back into dominance with practiced ease, "you're lucky, remember?"

"I'm lucky," you nod emphatically, but you're straining against your leash, wetting your lips.

"Good girls get treats," he yanks your collar back to remind you who still holds your leash, "this a treat for you, princess?"

"I do genuinely enjoy it," you admit honestly, seeming a little flustered to be saying as much, looking to Oliver with a sheepish smile, "not with anyone else though," it's actually a very sweet moment.

"Really?" Farleigh seems genuinely flattered, wide, bashful smile on his face as he sits forward a little.

"You seriously don't understand how hot the noises you make are," you laughed a little self consciously, "I came completely untouched once just from going down on you."

"Are we here to stroke Farleigh's ego or his cock?" Oliver rolled his eyes, already tired of this, but Farleigh sat back obliging, while you tried to bend down, but very much couldn't.

"Pick a lane, Oliver," you groaned, before quickly amending, apologetically, "sir." Farleigh snickered. Oliver's gaze grew cold.

"Beg for it."

He pushes his hand between your shoulder blades, forcing you to double over and bend down, but then kept his grip on your leash tight as he held the shiny, plump head of Farleigh's cock just inches from your lips.

"Please," already you were back to playing along, mouth open, breathing heavy, whimpering as you hear an impatient moan from Farleigh himself, "please, sir please -"

"Please what?"

Mouth hanging open, panting like a desperate whore, you beg for Farleigh's cock in your mouth, your throat, to be facefucked and used, whatever - you felt like you were going insane from the suspense. All the words come spilling out from you, begging and dripping with need that Oliver almost gives in right there.

Oliver's hand has been skilfully fisted around Farleigh's cock this entire time, keeping him hard and ready and in the perfect spot to drive you made, just out of your reach. He'd half forgotten he was even doing it, getting him all worked up, leaking, slick, fingers shiny and sticky with Farleigh -

"Oliver -" Farleigh chokes out in a kind of warning tone, as if to tell him to stop playing around one way or the other.

"You think you deserve this?" Oliver finally lets Farleigh's cock go, and you actually whimper. Oliver wipes his hand off messily against your mouth, once more demanding to know if you think you deserve this. You're begging, please tumbling from your lips even as Oliver presses two fingers into your greedy mouth.

"Please, sir," muffled so much that it's almost indistinguishable as your thorough tongue laps at Oliver's fingers, "please, I need him," and the desperate tears are welling in your eyes as he keeps his fingers in your mouth but pushes you back up onto your knees.

"Will you sit for me if I give you what you want?" He pulls his fingers slowly from your mouth. You nod, heartbeat alive when he wraps a firm hand around your throat, "will you stay for me if I give you what you want?" Another nod, lip trembling and breathing so desperately hard. He applies more pressure.

"Anything," you gasp, hips moving again, insistent, desperate for friction; he'd see to that soon, "speak, shake," you wet your lips, "roll over."

Oliver glances over his shoulder to where Farleigh is watching with rapt attention. Good.

"Good dog," Farleigh mumbles, desperately working his own hand up and down his shaft.

Oliver lets go of the leash carefully, and your eyes snap back to him. Just as you promised, you sit, you stay, a good dog, watching him move closer to Farleigh with intent. He hears your breath catch the moment he takes Farleigh's cock in hand, and the desperate chanting of 'pleasepleaseplease' as he lowers himself down. For a moment, he looks to Farleigh, a silent question of permission, but considering he too can hear how desperate and needy you're behaving at the mere sight of this, he realises, at least in part, what Oliver's doing and seems entirely on board.

You were right, Farleigh moans and whimpers like a whore with a mouth on his cock. A wanton melody made all the sweeter for your begging having turned simply to needy noises. What Oliver can't fit of Farleigh in his mouth he continues to jerk off, momentarily slipping down to gently squeeze Farleigh's balls, earning him the most beautiful series of swears Oliver's ever heard. Tongue always moving, caressing, often lapping at Farleigh's slit and the sweet, salty slickness, Oliver works hard to make him feel good - which he knows he's more than capable of, despite his demeanour he's nothing near a virgin in any realm - without getting him to close. He'd still leave that for you.

For a moment he glances up at Farleigh, and the bitterness in his eyes at the edge of the obvious lust, like he resents Oliver for being so good at this, makes it all worth it.

I got you here, Farleigh, Oliver thinks with bitter triumph, everything else is sloppy fucking seconds.

When he pulls away, he makes sure there's a distinctive, lewd slurp before he takes a deep breath.

Looking to you, the fight is back in your eyes, but it doesn't fucking matter; Oliver won. He pulls you in for a rough kiss -

"I hate you," you snarl at him through your intensely frustrated pout, even as his hand grabs your jaw, "interloping little slut, where the fuck do you get off -?" But the minute he pushes his tongue into your mouth you still try to press yourself against him, to kiss him harder, taste all of Farleigh in him that you could. You know you're sloppy fucking seconds to him, and you hate him for it.

"I was thinking it was going to be in you," Oliver says blithely as he pulls away from the kiss. In the back of his mind he knows it's a loaded statement - ha - but he hasn't forgotten the colours if this was a bridge too far -

"Fucking finally you have some common sense," you sneer, as if you weren't still on the verge of tears, "I was going to say that if you ruined my sheets I was going to have you arrested."

"No you weren't," pipes up Farleigh with an eyeroll. Immediately embarrassed you tell him to shut up, "no, I don't think I will; I'm beginning to think you guys are a bunch of fucking teases -"

Oliver gives him a thin smile, handing over the leash, having gotten all the permission he needed.

"Are you going to be good for Farleigh?" He whispered low in your ear, "didn't you want this?"

"Weren't you just begging for it?" Farleigh smirked down at you, lust-filled approval in his voice, "come on, baby," he murmurs as he takes your face in his hands, and immediately you're his, "crying for me?" The teasing starts warm, but as he's wiping the first of the tears from your cheeks, as you're nodding with embarrassment, his teasing turns mean and sharp and smug, "crying like a desperate, little cockwhore," he doesn't even time to let you react before he's giving your cheeks a gentle squeeze; "open up," he orders in that same cruel, loving, smug tone that makes Oliver's hairs stand up on the back of his neck. But you seem to react with relief the moment you have your mouth around him.

There's something that even Oliver finds entrancing about Farleigh in this moment. He'd been leading you both for so long that he'd forgotten where it had all started, the way Farleigh had spoken so early on, and how even in your most vicious or playful, part of you would always refer back to him. Part of Farleigh had earned your respect, and in the end, he had been the only one in the house who made the princess feel like her place was on her knees.

"Now your little power trip is over," Farleigh's voice cuts through Oliver's thoughts like a fucking knife, as always, painful and clean and precise, "do you need my permission to -" but Oliver's done with his bullshit tonight too.

"Shut it Farleigh," he rolls his eyes and starts to move once more. Time he focuses on your bound hands, finally deciding that you'd probably had enough, or at least were willing enough to listen to either Oliver or Farleigh in a way that mattered.

"Oh my god, freedom!" You immediately announced, sitting up to throw your hands in the air with a genuinely delightful glee.

"You see what you've done," Farleigh looked over your shoulder to Oliver, tossing his belt to the side, but you were already using your freedom to crawl up to meet him. Oliver's surprised by how genuine and affectionate you are when you tell him to be quiet for a moment. With one hand still working on him, the other being used to brace yourself up, you kiss Farleigh gently. What surprises Oliver even further is the momentary look of actual love in Farleigh's eyes as he cups your jaw and kisses you back.

Then you're moving back, making sure to let them both know that you weren't kidding about how much you enjoyed going down on Farleigh. However you do give pause, looking at Oliver through narrowed eyes for a long minute where he's sitting by your knees, watching the exchange, not quite sure where he was meant to go from here.

Your foot lashes out at him. Hard. It's unexpected. Somehow, so is the second kick that follows immediately after. The third he anticipates, but by that stage you'd shunted him to the edge of the bed, and though he tries to catch your leg he falls off, unsuccessful.

"What kind of problem do you have?" Oliver is scowling from the floor, his shoulder and hip sore from the fall, while Farleigh is laughing his ass off.

"What are you, a coat rack suddenly?" You demanded, matching his scowl with one of your own, still braced on your hands and knees over Farleigh, "also fuck you for making me beg for water." Careful, Oliver thinks, he's not quite done making you beg.

"Maybe his dick's broken," Farleigh snorted, "which would be a fucking shame; have you had a proper look at it?" Oliver bristled at the implications, though he knew he'd be thinking about the compliment tucked in there for days to come.

"You are both right fucking insufferable," Oliver snapped, getting to his feet and brushing himself off with indignation.

"Yeah, I'll cry about it in the shower later," you could clearly be heard rolling your eyes. There's a few pointedly obnoxious moments where you make a point of gagging on Farleigh's cock before coming back up for air and to add, "fuck me or fuck off - woah, okay, good choice!"

Before you can even finish your ultimatum, Oliver's decided he's come too far to, well, not. Grabbing your thighs with all the strength he could muster, he pulls you almost entirely away from Farleigh, to the end of the bed, half off the bed, causing you to faceplant into the duvet the moment your knees were no longer supporting you. Farleigh's protests fall on deaf ears, however, as all Oliver allows himself to focus on is keeping you stable, bent over the end of the bed like this.

Still, Farleigh shifts down to accommodate your change in position, despite his eye rolling and claims that Oliver's being dramatic, it's overshadowed by the sudden, loud moan that escapes you.

"Never felt someone so fucking desperate for someone they hate," Oliver bites out, almost impressed by how easy it was to bury himself in you. In the moment he gives you to adjust, his hand pressed to the small of your back to which you eagerly arch back against him, he watches Farleigh. It's his turn to be smug.

After a moment, he gives a few, shallow, experimental thrusts. Each time you rock back to meet him, to take him as deep as possible, and each time he hears a faint, pleased whimper. Your body and it's desires has betrayed you at every single opportunity, which is information Oliver gladly keeps in the back of his mind.

"Come on princess," he leans over to you to murmur in your ear where you'd pressed your face to Farleigh's thigh for the moment, attempting to keep going with your hand on him when your body could only focus on the rhythm of Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, "you've got a job to do, don't you want to be good?"

"I want to be good," you keened, before making the effort to prop yourself up, taking Farleigh in your mouth once more.

It's the last moment of care that Oliver affords, however, as he very quickly sets a rough pace, nails digging so hard into your hips that he thinks he might draw blood. But your cunt still clutches at him like it was made for his cock, so slick with how much you need this, need him in this moment, that it's already dripping down your thighs.

The three of you get lost in each other, each desperate moan from your muffled by Farleigh's cock hitting the back of your throat. The sensation soon sets him off and he can't keep his hands off of you. Up on his knees he takes over, takes your face in his hands as you look up at him, teary-eyed with a heady kind of bliss, and he matches Oliver's rhythm as he fucks your face.

Oliver can only imagine the kind of mess you look like right now, but has to focus on sustaining himself, making sure he doesn't leave you with any more excuses to belittle him tonight. So he reaches around, between your thighs, and his fingers find your desperately sensitive clit.

Immediately your stance slips, widens, gives him better access to your clit, and he hears your muffled moan become a choked sob. The beginning of the perfect end.

Farleigh's getting close, his pace is faltering, his hips are stuttering, you're whining and gasping desperate breathes between each of his thrusts, that have turned to wordless, overwhelmed sobs in the past few minutes. Oliver is genuinely impressed that you're able to take all of Farleigh like that; he wonders if he'd dedicated time to training you. He can't dwell on it, not when Farleigh's eyes have fallen closed and he's started mouthing what Oliver can only assume is a string of swear words.

For just a moment, Farleigh looks like an angel. Ethereal. He almost glows. Perfectly at peace and content and not a total, unbearable smug asshole. Then he pulls his cock out of your mouth and lets his legs give out again, flopping back onto your bed with a wide grin.

"I thought Oliver couldn't make you speechless," Farleigh teased, while you had in fact moved past words almost entirely, except -

"Please," you sobbed desperately. Farleigh, who'd never gotten to see you like this from here, lights up, moving back to you. You're shaking, barely able to support yourself, and he finally sees Oliver's hand between your thighs, and puts two and two together.

"Please?" He wears a smile that's all teeth, gently taking your shoulders and the pressure of keeping yourself up. In return you find yourself holding his face, his arms, everywhere, for support as he moved you back to press against Oliver. Taking the hint, Oliver wraps his arm around you, firm against your back, keeping you secure as he fucks up into you.

"Pleasepleaseplease -"

"Words, princess," Farleigh tells you as he brushes Oliver's hand out of the way, letting him focus on the new angle, the new sensation, the way you're trembling and so close to cumming on his cock. Before you can even formulate proper words at first, your head falls forward onto Farleigh's shoulder, sobbing, aching with how good you've been made to feel.

"I'm so close," you choke out, "please can I -"

"Selfish," Oliver admonishes coldly, and the reaction is immediate.

"No, no," you whimper apologetically, something Farleigh's never heard from you before. Lifting your head you lean back, fitting yourself against Oliver further, trying to placate, "please, no I promise- you, I need -" you take a deep, shuddering breath, "Ollie, please, it feels like I'm going to fucking die if you don't cum in me," you blurt out. Farleigh actually laughs, he's never seen you so fucking weak for another person.

Your begging and desperate pleas spur Oliver on, holding you tighter, fucking you harder, until he finally leans forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. It sends you over the edge, has you seeing stars as you cry out. Shudder and sobbing with your release, you feel Oliver bury his cock deep in you as it twitches and throbs and paints your inside.

Oliver lets you go, lets you fall onto Farleigh as your orgasm is still quaking through you. Oliver's hands grip your hips, keep you flush to him, keep you from pulling away.

"That's a good girl," Farleigh murmurs in your ear. He's holding you close with one arm, the other gently running his fingertips up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. He doesn't bother sparing Oliver a second glance, Oliver isn't an important part of this equation to him anymore. Not that that matters to Oliver.

It was far easier to pick you apart, to own you inside and out, than he'd ever imagined. He'd brought you to tears, made you beg for every last bit of fucking pleasure including every inch of him and then some. He would leave you aching, leave you knowing that you both knew the truth of where your place is in his world.

Finally Oliver pulls out of you, wiping his softening cock on your thighs before he thinks about getting dressed. He does take a few moments, while you're still half bent over the bed and being supported by Farleigh, where Oliver watched with a detached kind of approval, the way his cum starts to leak out of you, down your thighs with your own shining arousal.

The princess had been collared, cuffed, and his, inside and out.

"Thank- thank you, Oliver Quick," your voice is demure and grateful among your sniffles and whimpers, and Oliver can't help but smile to himself. His pride in you extends only to your final show of submission, though it's pride nonetheless.

"Good girl."

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x reader x oliver quick #farleigh start x you #farleigh start imagine #farleigh start x y/n #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #farleigh x reader x oliver #farleigh x reader #farleigh imagine #manic writer

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roguehongsami · 3 months

Text

Money Power Glory.

pairing/s: executives!minjoongsan x fem!secretary

genre/s: smut, fluff, au

synopsis: hongjoong needs your help securing a deal.

content: unprotected sex (condomize), rough sex, soft sex, threesome, power play, degradation, praise, belt leash, bondage, brat taming, breast play, fingering, oral sex, multiple orgasms, cum eating, handjob, bukkake, double penetration, butt play, creampie, choking, spit kink. switch!reader, dom!sangi, switch!hongjoong. reader is a former sex worker.

word count: 3.7k

* DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTIONAL. IT IS NOT A REPRESENTATION OF THE AFOREMENTIONED'S CHARACTERS, PERSONALITIES OR BEHAVIOURS. THIS IS SOLELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. *

As her heels made contact with the wooden boards beneath her feet, she approached the yacht. The scent of salt water in the air. Not much illumination except the moonlight to make her path clear. Hongjoong was outside awaiting to welcome her, hands pocketed in his slacks. Y/N had never heard of meetings being held in the dark. She just did as told and made her way to the docks. A satisfactory smile materialised on Hongjoong's face when she halted before him.

"What kind of meeting is held at night, in a yacht no less?" she deadpanned.

"I need your help with the acquisition." he sighed. "San's easy but Mingi... he's a real piece of work."

"I'm just a secretary, I don't think I can help, Hongjoong."

"Well..." he approached her, eyes zeroed in on hers. Closing the gap between them, he rubbed her bare arms.

She released a defeated breath as soon as she realised. This was the last thing she wanted to do. Her past was meant to stay exactly where it belonged, behind her. As she turned on her heel to leave, Hongjoong reeled her back in. Light grip on her wrist. Eyes pleading for her to hear him out.

"I just need you to butter them up." his tone low. "You know I never ask you for anything."

"I see why." her eyebrows creased. "When you gave me this job, you said I never have to be a call girl again."

"Yes, I said that and I still mean it. Just this one time." he brushed his lips against hers. "A month off work, I'll take you on that trip to Santorini you're always raving about."

A few moments of silence as she weighed out her options. It was just one more time, right?

"Same tricks I use on you?" she rolled her eyes.

He pecked her on the lips and smiled. "Anything that'll get me the deal."

When they entered the lounging area, San and Mingi had already made themselves comfortable. Mingi was seated on the couch nursing his whisky. San was seated at the bar. Hongjoong's hand on Y/N's bare back, they stood idly before them.

"Gentleman, this is Y/N. She's my secretary and she'll be your entertainment for the night." Hongjoong announced.

San and Mingi exchanged satisfactory glances, nodding at each other. "I'm Mr. Song," Mingi said and then pointed at San, "and that's Mr. Choi."

"I'll leave you be," Hongjoong said, "and please be careful with her? She may be a brat but she's still very sensitive."

Before leaving, Hongjoong pecked her on the cheek. Soon it was just the three of them in the room. She stood with her arms crossed, her weight supported on one leg. Mingi reached out his hand for Y/N to take it.

"Come on, I don't bite." Mingi coaxed. "Unless you're into that stuff."

She took his hand as he pulled her into his lap. He immediately buried his face into the crook of her shoulder. Peppering kisses, nipping at her skin. He pulled down the straps of her dress, revealing her breasts. The feel of the draft had her nipples hardening. His hand traveled up her thigh, rubbing and inching closer to her core. She threw her head back to give him access to her neck. San approached the couch, hovering over them as he stroked her hair.

"I think she's ready to play." San said.

Mingi removed the fabric covering her core and ran his fingers through her folds. A moan escaped. Rubbing her clit slowly, flicking it to rile her up a bit. Two fingers slipped in, pumping slowly. Warm and slick, just the perfect sensation. Her eyes snapped open when San grabbed her chin.

"Be a good girl and make Mr. Choi feel good." Mingi spoke through kisses.

Without protest, her hands begun undoing San's belt. As his slacks and underwear were brought down, his cock sprung out before her eyes. Long and girthy, a vein or two for detail. A bead sitting at the tip. Her mouth went slack. With his hand tangled in her hair, he guided his cock into the orifice. The feel of her velvety throat could bring his instant release. Thrusting, in and out. His tip knocking at the back of her throat. As Mingi's fingers pumped faster, she moaned on San's cock. The vibrations made him twitch in her throat, as hot cum sprayed all over her mouth. She gagged, tears mixed with mascara running down her face. She came on Mingi's fingers but that didn't stop him, he still kept pumping with his palm rubbing her clit. San pulled out of her mouth and met her at eye level.

"Hongjoong told us you last long." San grinned. "Let's test that theory."

In her ear, Mingi whispered, "And she plays rough too."

The lot went into the bedroom. San stripped her completely naked, tearing up her silk dress and only leaving on her heels. He pushed her onto the bed. Arousal was slowly making its way out of her core, unable to mask how turned on she was. She loved being treated as less than. She turned around, sitting up as she faced them. Both men watched her with predatory eyes as they undressed before her. Mingi looped his belt around her neck. He tugged it, instructing her to go on her knees.

She kneeled before them and begun stroking them with both hands. As soon as Mingi was leaking, she had her mouth wrapped around him. One hand pumping a throbbing San, tongue laving an aching Mingi. They tried their hardest to not unravel, but could not help the cum leaking from their tips. She removed her mouth and spit on him, mouth now wrapped around San and pumping Mingi. Both men were groaning messes.

"Jesus, your throat feels good." San spoke through groans.

Mingi gently tugged the belt. "What do we say?"

Mingi yanked her head off of San, her lips leaving him with a pop. "Thank you, San." Mingi tugged the belt very hard, making her jerk forward. "Thank you, San." she hissed spitefully as she challenged his gaze. He tugged again and she yelped, growing wet. "Thank you Mr. Choi."

Mingi smirked arrogantly. As she alternated between both men, pumping and sucking, sucking and pumping, both were about to cum. Chin covered in spit, hands wet and sticky. Both men started rubbing themselves out over her face, pumping themselves. They sprayed their warm cum all over her face, some landing on her chest and breasts. Licking off the bit that's on her lips, leaving a salty taste on her tongue, and wiping off the rest with her hand. San sat on the bed, she remained on the floor with Mingi towering over her.

He yanked the belt and she whined. "Stand." Mingi instructed.

Without a second to spare, she was on her feet. She challenged Mingi's gaze, lips wearing a smirk. "Is that all you got?"

Sandwiched between both men, San pressed up behind her. "Mingi, get the cuffs."

Mingi left the room to go get the handcuffs. San pushed her on the bed. She was on her knees, still overshadowed by his large build. He took her chin and tipped her closer. Swiftly, his hand was on her neck. Ample pressure applied, her breath caught in her throat. She grabbed his arm and tried getting out of his hold.

"Lose the attitude or we'll fuck it out of you, princess." San's voice carried so low that chills traveled down her spine.

Insolent as ever, she wanted to test his limits. "I'd like to see you try, San."

"Up against the headboard, now." Mingi's voiced boomed when he entered the room, handcuffs in hand. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Still fixed in her position, she did not budge an inch. Mingi tugged the belt, causing her to whimper. "Do you want Hongjoong to lose this deal?"

She shook her head disapprovingly. Pulling on the belt, he dragged her to the headboard. Crawling in submission to ease the tension around her neck. He cuffed her wrists to the headboard. Kneeling, face down. Mingi posited beneath her. San kneeled behind her, rubbing his tip along her entrance, teasing her. Mingi fondled her breasts, hands squeezing and tongue flicking her nipples. His hand traveled to her sensitive clit, toying with it. Her hole ached, yearning to be filled, feeling as though it would bleed if it got any tighter. San spanked her ass, eliciting a whine from her end. Four hands groping and stroking her, she was overstimulated yet the fun had not even begun.

"Please..." she moaned as pushed her ass up against San's cock, but he pulled away.

"Please what, princess? Use your words." an evil chuckle left San's mouth, Mingi joining in.

"Fuck me! Just fucking use me!" she cried as she struggled in the cuffs.

Mingi tugged on the belt. "Are you gonna be an obedient little whore for us?" she simply nodded which led to Mingi feeling affronted, so he tugged harder. "Words!"

"Yes sir!" she croaked out. "Just fuck me, fill me up! Anything!"

No warning, Mingi slammed into her needy and drenched hole. Her cry filled the room. Pain both pleasant and sore, her body trembled. Mingi unmoving, San slowly eased into her. Unbearable at first, the pain grew pleasurable as Mingi muffled her cries with two fingers pressed to the back of throat. Gradually there was movement, both men alternating in thrusts. As one slid in, the other slid out. Mingi had his hands on her thighs whilst San maintained balance using her hips. The men were having their way with her. Their strokes grew more aggressive, each thrust much stronger than the last. Y/N eventually went mute, with only the men's groans filling the atmosphere.

With a grunt, San uttered, "Is our pretty slut enjoying herself?"

She failed to respond, with only a string of drool leaving her mouth. "I think we fucked her dumb." Mingi chuckled.

San slowed down and dipped down to see her face. "Shit, you're right. We did!" he laughed as he resumed his stroking.

"No backchat from our favourite cumdump?" Mingi taunted, merely incoherent mumbles on her part.

Whilst maintaining his pace and rhythm, Mingi played with her clit again. San spanked her ass once more, before dropping a bead of spit on her ass, and rubbed his thumb into her hole. This brought her out of her reverie. Getting slammed into with 2 cocks, her clitoris and ass being toyed with; nothing could silence her. She was a moaning and crying mess. Whines bouncing on the thin walls, begging them to never stop. Mingi nibbled on her nipples. The sight of her mounds jiggling over his eyes as they railed her senseless, there was no keeping it in. She creamed on both their cocks, a bit of squirt spraying on Mingi's torso, as they fucked the cum back inside her. As both men's climaxes loomed, they painted their seed all over her wall. Face covered in sweat, some dripping on Mingi's chest. Panting. When Mingi pulled out, cum was dripping on the sheets. All 3 of their discharge, mixed, making its way down her thighs.

San unlooped the belt around her neck and uncuffed her, crashing into Mingi's chest. He laid her right beside himself, coddling her in his arms whilst San cleaned her up. She fought off the looming slumber. Her eyes stayed open although she was worn out. Both got dressed, ready to call it a night. She weakly propped herself up and sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing them by their belts. They exchanged confused glances then looked down at her.

"Hongjoong worked his ass off for this deal." her voice hoarse, weakly carrying through. "Give him the contract before you leave."

San crouched to meet her eyes. "You really care about him, don't you?" she nodded. "We weren't gonna give it to anyone else, so don't worry yourself. You did great."

San gave her a sympathetic smile, seeing how done she was. He knew that look, that was the look of a woman who'd do anything for whoever she cared for. A woman in love. Mingi rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. They bid goodbye as they left her in the room alone. There was muffled chatting in the common area, a third voice belonging to Hongjoong soon joined. She shuffled to the door and locked it. Moments later there was light knocking from the other side. She simply ignored it and made her way to the shower.

[ . . . ]

The crack of light that shone through the curtains woke her when it stagnated over her eyes. Tidying the room, making the bed, picking up her clothes from the floor and eventually showering. The yacht was no longer docked, but sailing out in the open sea. Only in a silk robe, loosely hanging on her body. Taking in the sight of the waters slapping against the walls of other yachts that sailed past. Her head rested on her arms which were placed on the sill. A knock on the door brought her out of her head. When she opened the door, before her stood Hongjoong bearing gifts. A bouquet with an assortment of flowers, and a branded Delvaux gift bag. She wore a dead look and walked back to the bed, sitting down with her legs crossed.

"Did they give you the contract?" she broke the silence.

He trailed behind her. "Signed last night. You're not mad, are you?"

"No." she deadpanned and looked him in the eye. "It's one thing to fuck me on every surface whenever you want, I actually like that. You gave me a job and got me out of my old life, and I'll always be grateful. But to pimp me out to your friends then spring it on me on the last minute?"

He took a few steps toward her but she stretched out her leg to create some distance. "Y/N, there's nothing I can say to justify what I did. I really am sorry. This deal..."

"I know how important this acquisition was for you, because I stayed those late nights in the office with you, while you stressed over your presentations." she shook her head and released a shaky breath. "You could've just asked me, Joong. I'd never say 'no' to you, you know that."

Hongjoong brushed her leg aside and closed the gap between them, setting the gifts down on the bed. He kneeled down between her legs, hands snaked around her waist.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. When San and Mingi left, I felt like such a dick. San said something that brought me to my senses. This isn't how I wanted things to be between us, I should've been honest from the get-go." he cupped her face with both hands. "I'll do anything for you to forgive me, anything. Y/N, I will do right by you from this point on and I'll always run things by you. Regardless of how much I apologise, it won't change the fact that I was a jackass."

She playfully rolled her eyes. "I still want my trip to Santorini."

"Santorini and many other places." he kissed her forehead.

"What's in the gift bag?"

Grinning, he produced forward a bloom pink Lunar New Year leather handbag. Her eyes sparkled brighter than anytime he'd ever seen them, she took it into her hands. Holding it merely inches away from her face, soaking up every detail from the stitching to the dragon silhouette. By far, the best addition to her collection. All sponsored by yours truly.

"Do you love it?" taking in the image of her joy, there was nothing in the world he loved more than watching her gush over all he had to offer her. "I remember you showing it to me last week, wouldn't stop talking about it."

She put the bag aside and pecked him on the lips. "Joong, I love it. God, I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do. And I'm gonna prove to you that I'm worthy of your companionship."

Undoing her robe's knot, the flimsy material slid effortlessly off her shoulders, revealing her perfect breasts. He cupped them both, kneading, as she threw her head back, hands pressed into the mattress to support her weight. While his mouth circled around one of her nipples, flicking it with his tongue, she attempted to pull off his jacket. Briefly pulling away, he took off all his upper body garments. He slid off her underwear, revealing the glistening pool that had gathered at her entrance. With both her legs on his shoulders, she was feeling desperate. The thought of his tongue was driving her to a point of insanity. That first lave at her clit had her whimpering. As he buried his face in her core, her fingers were tangled in his locks. Clenching around nothing and only growing more slick, he swallowed every bit of her.

"Hongjoong..." she called breathlessly. "Oh, you're such an obedient pet baby..."

He look up her with big eyes. "The things I would do for you are endless, my love."

Two fingers slid inside her, pumping as they brushed past her sensitive zone. She was teetering on her imminent release. He inserted a third finger, increasing his pace. Her moans grew louder. Legs quaking over his shoulders as she came undone, he lapped up every ounce of her juices. Collapsing on the bed, she laid there shaking quite a bit. Breath unsteady and hitched. His fingers still pumping to help her ride out her high. He got up off the ground and fully undressed. As he hovered over her, their fingers intertwined, she met him with a sensual and deep kiss. His tongue explored every corner and crevice of her mouth. His cock brushed against her already wet and needy core, causing her to squirm under him. He slowly eased into her. Head buried in the crook of her shoulder. One hand rubbing her clit, the other holding her hands above her head. Legs locked around him, their kiss did not break.

"I'd be a fool to ever let you go." he grunted into her ear. "You are my prized possession, my everything, right my love dove?"

She moaned in response. He thrusted into her much harder, pushing her to speak. "Yes sir, I'm your prized possession." she cried, tears trailing down her temples.

He released her hands and with haste, her hands were snaked around his back. Perfectly manicured nails inscribing art into his back, the last scars were barely healed. Likewise, they were trailing eyely bruises and hickeys on each other's necks and jawlines, their calling card. They were marking their territories like they always had. As she contracted around him, his hips moved sloppily. He painted her walls as she allowed herself to let go around him. Slow thrusts as he rested on top of her. Lips crashing into hers. One of her hands stopped at his neck, gently pressing the sides. In one swift motion, she flipped their bodies around. Grinding to wake his penis up, his hands were on her waist guiding her movements.

Applying more pressure to the grip on his neck, she leaned in, "Last night won't happen again, am I clear?" voice down a few decibels.

As he felt himself get aroused whilst inside her, he said, "Yes..."

She squeezed tighter, "Yes who?"

"Yes... ma'am."

"Good boy." her grip loosened. "Now open up." she commanded.

His jaw slackened. She dropped a bead of spit in his mouth, his tongue reaching. Her lips crashed into his, the kiss was very hungry, sloppy and coupled with the clashing of teeth. Hips slowly rising and sinking back on his hard-on, he met her effort with thrust from below. His hands groping and smacking her ass. She couldn't help but whimper in his ear, barely keeping her lips on his.

"You're so good for me baby." she moaned weakly. "This pussy is yours, and yours only."

"It's like you were made for me sweetheart." he groaned.

"Because I am." she cried, almost pathetically really.

She put her hands on his chest to balance herself as she continued to ride him. Voluntarily contracting her muscles around him, she sped up. The pouncing growing more unsteady by the minute as she felt her third orgasm creep in. Hongjoong's face contorting as his own orgasm swept in without so much as a warning. They came simultaneously, each chanting the other's name. She collapsed on his chest, worn out from the morning workout. He laid her on her side and when he pulled out, she protested. Chuckling, he pressed up against her back and lifted her leg up, easing himself back inside her.

This time it felt different, freeing. Y/N had had her fair share of sexual partners but Hongjoong was who she wanted to be her last. She found it hard to trust and be open with prospective partners about her past. Hongjoong never made her feel ashamed. He took her as she was, no questions asked.

"You are worth every penny I spend and more." he whispered in her ear. "I knew you were the one the night you walked into that lounge."

"You don't mean that." she refuted.

"Yes I do." he pecked her shoulder. "I understand how important trust is to you. You didn't take my job offer because you were desperate, but because I had actually earned your trust. Last night won't ever happen again. No deal is worth losing you. From now on we're a team. No pimping out, no office sex, none of that."

She turned her head to face him, unable to contain herself. "Are you serious, Joong?"

"About you, absolutely. I've never been more sure about something in my life." he smiled as he pecked her on the lips.

"The office sex stays though."

"Definitely. How else will I be motivated to work if you're not sitting on my lap, telling me about the different places & positions we could do it?"

#ateez #ateez poly #kim hongjoong #choi san #song mingi #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fluff #san smut #mingi smut #roguehongsami

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kneelingshadowsalome · 3 months

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Ok but with König’s ~alleged~ mommy issues I have to ask; What if cam girl reader had the whole dommy mommy thing going on? Usually in the fics könig is the dominant aggressive one. Could he himself fall for a woman who is more assertive?

I think König would find a dommy mommy alluring and intriguing in a way that a tiger is interested in a challenging prey…? Like he can appreciate and jerk off to her confidence and seductive traits, he would try to win her over by looking like a sad homeless puppy, but if she takes a serious interest in him König goes into full hunter mode... This woman is simply a challenge of sorts!

He wants to conquer her and make her submit, he has to at least tame her to make sure she’s his. If nothing else worked, König would try to force her to “soften” by making her a hot mess in bed. She's bound to get addicted to him if he only shows her how boring (=healthy and wholesome) other men are compared to him! This woman needs to understand that she can let go and let him lead the way… There’s no need to be in control, Liebe, just allow him take care of everything…

Any 'but's' will be kissed away as König licks her to ruin to show her her place, he can be very annoying if things don’t go his way! This woman thought she met a nice big sub who’s adorable and charming, a little nervous and rough around the edges perhaps, but she can always train him, right? Only to discover she’s tried to put a leash on a rabid dog who should be effing sedated at the very least :/ (Gosh imagine the fights between these two)

The only way to get König (unconsciously) submit is to act demure, soft and innocent, and then watch how he kneels before your “virtue” and swears his everlasting allegiance and love to you, while staring at your tits of course.

#sorry but toxic König with an equally toxic darling will always be famous!#answered #könig headcanons

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headcaasefiction · 4 months

Text

Title: Suck

Mihawk/Shanks/AFAB!Reader

Minors Do Not Interact

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Threesome, Blowjobs, Vaginal fingering, Cum swallowing, Collar and leash, BDSM, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Sir kink, Dom!Mihawk, Sub!Shanks, Sub!Reader.

Summary: You and Shanks bend to Mihawk’s will and service him together. Inspired by the song Suck by Nine Inch Nails.

A thousand lips

A thousand tongues

A thousand throats

A thousand lungs

A thousand ways to make it true

I want to do terrible things to you

Suck:

"Fuck..." Shanks sighs out, eyelids fluttering closed. His one arm is wrapped tightly around the waist of the golden-eyed warlord to his right, fingertips digging into his taunt hip, "I don't know how much longer I can last..."

Shanks' head is tipped back, bare chest and neck exposed. The lips and sharp teeth of Mihawk graze along his tan and sea-salt coated skin before he sucks a dark spot of purple into the flesh just under his pulse point.

"Just a little longer..." Mihawk murmurs to the red-head, nipping at his ear, "We can take turns cumming down her throat... you just have to be patient."

Seated at their feet in front of the plush couch they share, you are on your hands and knees, naked except for the black leather collar around your neck that connects to a chain leash Mihawk holds firm in his right hand. Slowly you are taking Shanks' cock in your mouth, all the way down to the base so it hits the back of your throat, before sucking hard and keeping equal pressure as you rise back up to his thick tip, repeating the process over and over again at an agonizing pace.

Shanks groans in frustration, hand bruising further into Mihawk's hip as his head lulls to the side, his dark eyes meeting Mihawk's bright ones with a desperate look. He bites his lip and gently bucks his hips so his cock goes further down your throat, causing a small gasp to escape from you.

Mihawk tsks, his free hand grasping his lover's red locks, as he crashes their lips together in a messy and forceful kiss, all mean teeth and devious tongue, making Shanks pant into his mouth while rolling his hips. Mihawk then tugs on your leash, letting you know to remove yourself from pleasuring the captain's cock. Obediently you suck the head of Shanks' dick hard before letting go with a loud pop, causing the Emperor to whimper at the loss of sensation.

"Such a brat," he says after separating from Shanks, fingers held tight to the other man's scalp, forcing him to look into his eyes, "You're even worse than she is."

Shanks grins at the warlord's words, pleased with himself, "Am I now? Good thing I don't follow your orders too often then, aye hawk-eye?"

"Hmm, I suppose so," Mihawk drawls, punishing Shanks with a sudden and harsh bite to his bottom lip, a bit of blood immediately welling up at the wound.

Shanks cries out, cursing, flexing his arm as Mihawk leans back, pressing hard to the couch to trap his companion. In the same motion Mihawk tugs on your leash again, leading you over to his lap instead, where his painfully hard cock is trapped in the confines of his pants. Quickly you undo his belt buckle, and eagerly take him into your mouth instead, starting a much faster rhythm than you gave to Shanks.

"Good girl," Mihawk hums against Shanks lips, as he swipes his tongue over the captain to taste his blood, "At least someone around here knows their place."

In retaliation Shanks attempts to bite Mihawk back, a bad move considering his current situation, painfully hard and trapped against the cushions. Mihawk moves away gracefully, pulling Shanks' head back by his hair rather hard. The yonko's chest heaving as his breath comes out rapid and uneven, a glare in his dark eyes.

Their positions make Mihawk give an uncharacteristic grin, pleased and power drunk as you service him, and as he attempts to tame the powerful but bratty captain next to him.

"You know, Red," He smirks, bringing Shanks' face close to his once more, "If you want to be punished, you just have to tell me so."

There's something about Mihawk, something about the way he emits power and dominance, the way he purrs in the ears of his lovers that makes them melt, totally slack-jawed, compliant, and eager to please, like under some kind of spell as soon as his breath ghosts over their ears.

At his words Shanks goes limp, eyes glassy with need as pink tinges his cheeks to compliment the rouge of his hair, hips slightly squirming from lack of contact. He licks his lips, mouth opening and closing with hesitancy as he attempts to either come up with a sassy remark or to beg for whatever it is that he desires.

Mihawk watches him closely, eyes heavy with lust as you continue to suck on his cock, taking him all the way in and down your throat. You moan around his dick, their actions turning you on to the ends of the earth. It was a rarity when these two would get so intimate like this with each other, sometimes you would forget your Daddy liked to switch and submit too. With a gentle tug to your collar and the feeling of the leash loosening in Mihawk's grip, you know to remove yourself from his cock. You obey, sucking him hard once more and licking the shiny tip as you settle back onto your knees to catch your breath.

"What is it, love? Cat got your tongue?" Your golden eyed lover whispers to Shanks, placing another kiss on his jaw-line before pressing their foreheads together, "If not punishment then what do you want so badly to make you behave like this?"

Shanks swallows hard, his hooded eyes and pupils blown-wide with want as he gazes back at Mihawk, and with a hint of embarassment he replies, "Your attention...just want you to put me in my place too, on occasion..."

In response Mihawk presses his lips to Shanks' once more, not as rough as before, more passionate, more loving, tongue soothing over the Captain's bruised lip before licking into his mouth and inhaling to take the red-head's breath away.

You watch mesmerized as they kiss each other, Shanks a whimpering mess as your Sir all but devours him. Mihawk releases Shanks' hair with his left hand, and without hesitation reaches down to grasp the captain's aching cock, making Shanks keen into the swordman's mouth.

"All you had to do was ask, you brat," Mihawk mumbles with the ghost of a smile on his lips, swallowing the whine Shanks breathes out as he begins to stroke his leaking cock.

You rub your thighs together, slick with arousal as your drenched pussy flutters around nothing. You long to caress your aching clit, but you know you'll be punished severely for touching yourself without their permission. Obediently you keep your hands flat on the tops of your thighs, and press your legs firmly against the other so you can gently squirm for a smidge of contact.

Shanks' arm is then freed from the confines of Mihawk's back and the couch, and is desperately tugging at the warlord's cock. The both of them whimpering and groaning into each other's mouths as they jerk one another off in unison, making you ache to fuck yourself with your fingers in time with their strokes. You're drunk on the sight of them, your desire growing with each passing moment as you tremble with arousal.

You're not sure how much time has passed when the two men finally pull apart, panting as they rest their foreheads together once more and settle back onto the couch, oxygen starved and kiss-swollen. Both of their eyes flicker down to your kneeling form, regarding the desperate look on your face and rosy flushed skin.

Mihawk smirks, his grip on your leash re-tightening, his other hand returning to Shanks' hair "Enjoying the show, darling?"

"Yes Sir..." You nod earnestly, your fingertips digging into the tops of your thighs with anticipation, your cunt pulsing with need as you watch him tug Shanks' head back to look into his eyes again.

"Hmm, perhaps I'll let her watch me open you up sometime soon," Mihawk purrs to the red-haired captain, "Til' you're both begging for my cock."

You and Shanks moan together, a noise of bliss swallowed up as Mihawk presses gentle kisses to Shanks' plush lips. You bite into your bottom lip to gather the remainder of your self-control, you weren't sure how much more teasing you could take before you broke their rules and began touching yourself.

"But for now, I believe someone is feeling a bit left out, don't you agree, love?" Mihawk points his question at Shanks, gesturing towards you with a soft tug on your leash, "I think you should get on your knees so our princess isn't so lonely."

Eyes still heavily clouded with lust, Shanks glances at you with a longing look. His usual playfully dominant, and mischievous demeanor has been coaxed into submission. He shoots you a warm smile, and with one more kiss to the warlord's lips he says, "Yes, Sir."

Shanks peels himself from the swordsman's side, and drops to his knees beside you, his hand immediately grabbing you by the waist to collide with your mouth in a feverish kiss. You whimper as he opens you up, rolling his tongue against the sensitive flesh of your inner lips, sparks igniting under your skin as his hand frantically caresses your thighs, your breasts, your ass, any part of your skin he could reach.

"Daddy!" You gasp as his fingers finally dip inbetween your legs, 2 digits more than easily sliding through your folds into your soaked pussy.

"I don't want my princess to be lonely," he coos, peppering your face with soft kisses, his fingers fucking into you, "I'm sorry if we got carried away, I'll make it up to you..."

Your breath hitches in your throat as Mihawk tugs on your leash, pulling you to his lap so you are inches away from his cock, causing the captain's fingers to withdraw from you. Shanks crawls closer beside you, joining you as he rests his head on the warlord's lap, grinning his familiar lop-sided smile.

"Make sure she cums while you both take my cock," Mihawk orders Shanks, tone firm as they gaze at one another.

Shanks nods with understanding, "Yes, Sir."

"Now suck."

Without another word you do as you're told, taking him into your mouth whole and sucking with a light pressure until you reach the tip, where you swirl your tongue before popping it out of your mouth and licking a stripe from the base back up to the head.

Pleasure erupts in your core as you feel the euphoric sensation of Shanks' fingers entering you once more, spreading around your wetness to glide up and over your clit before diving back into your cunt. You moan, gripping the edge of the couch between Dracule's legs while you grasp the base of his cock to keep yourself steady.

In a swift motion Shanks leans over and repeats what you have just done, laving his wet, hot tongue from the base of Mihawk's dick all the way to the head and back down again, glancing at you half-lidded from the corner of his eyes.

You whine at his actions, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he simultaneously pumps them into you and takes all of your dark-haired lover's cock into his mouth. Shanks bobs his head up and down with a fast and sloppy pace for a moment, earning a low groan from Mihawk before releasing with a hard suck.

Shanks flashes his bright grin for a moment, switching to swirl his soaked fingertips over your stiff clit while coyly licking a bead of pre-cum from the tip of Mihawk's cock. You whimper with arousal at the action, biting your lip.

"C'mere and give me a kiss, sweetheart," he murmurs, lips still brushing against the dark red head of the warlord's member, as he continues his expert caress on your slick bud.

Your eyes roll back slightly, warmth shooting up your spine in ecstasy as you understand what he wants you to do. Eagerly, you lean your face close to his, pressing an open mouth kiss to Shanks that includes the tip of Dracule's cock.

"Fuck..." Mihawk hisses out softly, grip tightening on the leash as he threads his other hand in Shanks' hair, "Just like that..."

You and Shanks take turns licking, sucking, and kissing up and down Mihawk's length. You both comfort each other with soft spit-wet kisses, and gentle hints of tongue after he's individually shoved you both down to gag on his cock as he fucks your faces.

Shanks' fingers flutter soft and fast over your clit the entire time, making you cum with a cry as Dracule is more than halfway down your throat, forcing you to swallow around him, a growl tearing it's way from deep in his chest. Your orgasm ignites your nerves, fire in your belly as you twitch with satisfaction, your slick dripping down your thighs and coating Shanks' wrist.

You come up gasping, forehead pressed to Shanks' as you both breathe together, still panting over the swordman's throbbing dick. Mihawk watches enraptured at his two lovers, needy and wanton and sharing his cock, more than pleased with their unending devotion.

After what feels like an eternity of dizzying pleasure, of pleasing and being pleased, Mihawk tugs on your leash once more. He forces you to straighten yourself up and lean back on your knees, which makes Shanks' fingers finally leave you. Shanks mirrors your movements, sitting up straight with a toss of his hair and a smirk plastered on his face. By the looks of him you could hardly tell this cocky man just got throat-fucked on his hands and knees by his supposed rival.

"You've been a good boy, Red," Mihawk praises, leaning over to place a quick kiss to Shanks' lips, "I think you've waited long enough to cum down our precious treasure's throat. Wouldn't you agree?"

Shanks bites down a groan, his arm encircling your waist once more as he pulls you into a warm kiss, "Yes, Sir...would that be alright with you, princess?"

You nod frantically, pressing a few more eager kisses to his face and neck, "Yes, Daddy, please~"

Shanks wastes no time sliding back onto the couch next to Mihawk and spreading his legs, his neglected cock obscenely hard, the tip an almost purple color. You don't have to wait for Mihawk to tug you over on your leash, you crawl between your Daddy's legs and immediately swallow him whole.

"Fuck!" Shanks cries out, hips bucking frantically into your mouth as you suck him down, Mihawk whispering sweet nothings and marking up the side of his throat once more.

It doesn't take long for Shanks to reach his end, cumming with a sharp cry and his fingers threaded tight against your scalp, hips stuttering as you swallow every single drop of his cum.

You don't have time to breathe much or get your bearings as Mihawk yanks on your leash, extracting you from the captain's spent member and pulling you back down onto his, setting himself a bruising pace as he takes his turn cumming down your throat as well, filling your raw mouth up with a second helping.

"That's it darling, suck it," the warlord growls, "Every. Last. Drop."

You obey, eyes squeezed tight, throat as open and lax as you could make it as you whimper around his girth, always so eager and ready to please. Tears pricked at your eyes before sliding down your cheeks, your abused windpipe aching for air, saliva running down your chin.

With one last, shallow thrust Mihawk slumps back against the couch, panting in unison with Shanks as they ride the after shocks of their orgasm together.

Dracule rakes a hand through his dark curly locks, collecting his composure as he gazes down at your blissed-out form, admiring how you're still so beautiful with your messy hair, tear stained cheeks and spit-soaked mouth.

"Come here, my darling," Mihawk murmurs sweetly, as he gently takes the collar off from around your throat and gathers you into his arms, "You did so good for us, such a good girl."

His praise makes your heart fill as your mind tries to catch up with your body, the post-orgasm pleasure fading away as your throat and limbs begin to ache. He picks you up and places you on the nearby bed the three of you share, beckoning Shanks to join you as he tucks the both of you into the warm plush covers.

"I'll draw you both a bath, my dear ones," Mihawk soothes, pressing a quick kiss to each of your lips while pulling on a pair of his pants, "I'll be right back."

Mihawk leaves the two of you alone to retreat to the captain's private washroom, a heavy feeling of sleep beginning to engulf the two of you. You cuddle up close to Shanks' side, resting your head on his chest next to the scarred shoulder of his missing arm.

"I've never seen you like that before..." You smile, a bit giddy, "Is that what you two were doing before I came along?"

Shanks laughs quietly, running his hand over his face, "A little, sometimes. I like to give over the reigns every so often. I don't always want to be in control."

You giggle, draping yourself over him even more, placing a kiss under his jaw, "He mentioned something about opening you up...I would rather like to see that."

"I'm sure you would, you little siren," he chuckles, laying his head back against the soft pillows and closing his eyes, "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to show you."

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Sorry this took me so long to write. The holidays and work were rough and gave me mad writers block. I’m working on my Sanji/Reader/Shanks cheater fic at the moment, hopefully I’ll get that out soon. Cheers!

#mihawk x shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #mishanks #mishanks x reader #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece live action #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #akagami no shanks #dracule mihawk #fanfic

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