#resigned and disgusted and in pain

[goldenempyrean]

Spring Showers

〚 Notes - Hello! This was based off this: request! I was meant to post this yesterday I think but something came up. Hopefully this is enjoyable, honestly feels good to write again :) 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - When you’re sick, your day goes from bad to worse. A small car breakdown later and you find yourself unexpectedly bumping into Natasha. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2681 〛

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Waking up that fresh spring morning, you rolled over to snooze the alarm that had pulled you out of your slumber, hitting it lazily before letting gravity take control and send your arm flopping over the edge of the bed.

You groaned a little as it hit the edge of your bed, rubbing your elbow with an annoyed look as if somehow death-staring the metal frame would make up for it.

As you begrudgingly got out of bed, the chill of the early morning hit you, sending a shiver down your spine. You had to admit felt a bit off, today. Your head heavy and your throat scratchy but you ignored the signs of fatigue and finished getting dressed and ready for the day.

Nat was always one to be up and out early in the mornings. Running, training or sometimes even just reading, whatever it was, she was definitely up and ready for her day before sunrise. Early bird gets the worm? Well, the early widow gets her 90-minute workout in without being disturbed. She liked it that way.

Unfortunately, it meant you usually weren’t able to see her most days before heading out to work - the rare exception being when you were on a late shift and got a few extra hours at home before heading out.

You weren’t an Avenger like your girlfriend, instead you served the people of New York by working in the local hospital as the Chief Nurse in charge. It was a demanding job, but one you found incredibly rewarding.

The pouring rain grabbed back your wandering attention as you sat sleepily over your chosen bowl of cereal. You hadn’t really had an appetite but had forced a few bites down regardless before you lost interest. Checking your phone, you realised you needed to set off, so you grabbed your car keys and headed out the compound.

As you pulled into the hospital's parking lot, you mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead. You tried to clear your throat as you checked yourself over in the mirror, but it ended in you coughing raspily and sighing in defeat as you rubbed your throat. Maybe water would get rid of the soreness, you thought as you took a tentative sip from your bottle… nope, it still hurt. What a fun day this was going to be.

Whoever said being in charge was fun, was sorely mistaken. Throughout the morning, you found yourself raising your voice more often than usual to be heard over the cacophony of the emergency room. By midday, your voice had started to crack and strain, sending sharp pains down your throat with each word.

Eventually you resigned yourself to your office, sick (literally) of the mix of pitiful, disgusted and annoyed glances you were receiving from both residents and patients.

As you sat in your office, trying to soothe your aching throat and mustering the energy to tackle the mountain of paperwork on your desk, the hospital intercom made you jump as it crackled to life, urgently calling you to the ER.

You groaned but despite your muscle’s aching, your instincts kicked in, and you rushed out of your office towards the ER.

As you entered the chaotic room, your senses were assaulted by the echo of urgent voices and the sharp smell of antiseptic made your eyes water.

You had barely assessed the ongoing situation before a sudden sneeze erupted from you, surprising yourself with its volume. You’d quickly covered your mouth, but the damage was done. Several heads turned in your direction, eyebrows raised in concern.

Before you could even attempt to explain, your boss appeared, her expression a mix of concern and sternness. "What are you doing here, Y/N?" She asked, her tone indicating she already knew the answer.

You tried to muster a response, but your throat rebelled, emitting only a hoarse croak instead.

Your bosses' eyes softened slightly, an understanding look settling on her face. "You're ill," She stated matter-of-factly. "Go home, rest, and don't come back until you're fully recovered. We don’t need you starting an epidemic.”

Despite your protests, she ushered you out of the ER and back to your office to collect your belongings. She helped you collect your things, only stopping to hold a thermometer to your ear as she checked your temperature.

You thanked her hoarsely as she held open the door for you, “Seriously, I don’t want you back until 48 hours after that fever breaks.” She warned with a stern tone but the gentle pat on your back made it obvious she was just worried that’s all.

As you stepped out of the hospital, the chilly rain immediately soaked through your clothes, sending shivers down your spine. You dropped your keys twice as you fumbled to unlock your car, finally flopping down behind the wheel with an drained sigh - a sigh which your crackling lungs despised, reprimanding you in the form of a burning cough.

As you drove home, the rain beat relentlessly against the windshield, blurring the already dimly lit road ahead. Each cough sent a sharp pang through your chest, and your vision blurred with exhaustion. You tried to focus on driving safely, your mind drifting to the warmth of your bed and girlfriend waiting for you at home. Not long now…

But just as you approached a traffic light, your car sputtered, the engine emitting a series of ominous noises before finally giving out with a pathetic wheeze. Panic seized you as you coasted to the side of the road, hazard lights flashing weakly in the rain.

You tried to restart the engine, but it only responded with a feeble groan before falling silent again.

“Oh you piece of shit!” You slammed your hand on the wheel as the car’s engine light flickered an angry red, “Stupid, fucking-“ An awful cough broke off your curse, your grip on the wheel turning white as your lungs burned.

After you caught your breath, you leaned back in your seat, feeling utterly defeated. Each raindrop seemed to mock your predicament, drumming against the windshield like a cruel taunt. With a heavy heart and a pounding headache you pulled out your phone - fighting back exhausted tears as you saw the critical low battery warning flash up on the screen.

You didn’t know the number of any breakdown services or anyone that could really be of help. The most you were able to do was to text Tony to ask him to help you move your car tomorrow. He had always been quick to respond so you found your spirits lifting just an inch higher when he agreed. However, those spirits were surely crushed when you opened up the Uber app on your phone only for the screen to turn black, taunting you with the picture of an empty battery.

“For fucks sake!”

There was nothing more you could do. You’d just have to walk. Nobody was coming to save you. You were a grown girl. You can look after yourself. There was a grocery store just down this road, maybe 10 minutes or so. You’d be able to stop there, rest, maybe pick up a few supplies. There’d be a phone there too, you’d be able to call someone to pick you up.

As you trudged through the rain, each step heavier than the last, you had to practically drag yourself down the street as your congested lungs begged for air. It was hard for see through the constant rain; the whistling of the wind made your ears throb. The chill of your soaked clothes clung tightly to your skin, and the coughing fits continued to rack your exhausted body until finally you’d made it.

You didn’t wait any longer before heading inside. The bright fluoresce of the lights made your eyes sting a little but this was miles better compared to being outside getting battered by the rain.

With each stumbling step, you grabbed a basket make your way to find some medicine. You just wanted something to make you feel better, just anything that would put an end to your awful day.

Maybe you should get some actual groceries whilst you where did. It wouldn’t hurt to stock up the cupboards a little, you might as well consider you were here.

Little did you know your girlfriend was already one step ahead of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened a little as she strolled down the aisle, pushing along half a cart of groceries as she hummed. Y/N? What were you doing here? This was a pleasant surprise and she kept quiet as she snuck up to you.

“Hey bub.” Her warm voice murmured, and you felt familiar arms wrap around the front of your waist. Natasha’s head came to rest on your shoulder as she nosied at what you were looking at, “I thought we agreed that I’d be doing groceries this week.” She purred, kissing the side of your neck sweetly.

You shrugged through gritted teeth, your damp clothes crinkling uncomfortably, “I just needed something.”

“Hold on.” Her brow crinkled just a little, “I thought you had work?” She paused, her face shifting slightly as she realised just how soaked you were. This was not the kind of damp someone got just walking from the car to the entrance. You were drenched! “God, you’re soaked Y/N! Where on earth have you been? Did you walk here?!”

Your eyes cast to the floor. You’d forgotten that it was usually the day that the two of you had gone grocery shopping. Of course, it hadn’t even occurred to you that Nat might’ve been in the store.

“I may have got a little damp.” You sniffled thickly, trying to keep your tone neutral but the painful rasp in your voice instantly gave yourself away, “…and my car may or may not have broken down coming back from work.”

Natasha's concern deepened as she noticed your raspy voice. "Oh, sweetheart, you should have called me. I would've come to pick you up." Her voice softened, filled with genuine worry. Her grip tightened around you a little. “You're not just ‘damp’, you're practically drenched and- oh, what’s this?” Her eyes glanced down, noticing the theme of items in your own basket.

She had just about to ask you about them, but her question was answered when you ducked into your elbow with two forceful sounding sneezes barely seconds later.

“Double bless you!” Her tone shifted instantly to one of comfort, “Guess I don’t need to ask why your voice is so hoarse and you’re buying meds then, hm?” She cooed and you turned around with a pout, letting your head fall onto her shoulder as you wrapped your arms around her.

“You’re not feeling well.” It wasn’t a question, she just looked at you, looking deep into your weary eyes as she continued to hold you, “How long?”

You let out a small cough into her shoulder, “This morning. Got worse at work, got sent home which was beyond embarrassing.” Your croaking voice mumbled in defeat as Nat’s hand came to soothingly rub your back.

“I’m so tired and achy.” You continued, grumbling softly, finally feeling the weight of the day begin to let up as Nat continued to hold you in the moment, “My throat’s been so bad all day and I’ve had to constantly yell at people to do their jobs properly because apparently they’re all incompetent idiots that don’t know their elbows from their arse!”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh a little at your choice of words but quickly shut up when you shot her a glare - of course the glare had been in no way intimidating with your sleepy eyes and runny nose, but she got the hint regardless.

“Sounds rough sunshine.” She murmured, sympathetically rubbing your back before the two of you began to walk towards another aisle, “Let me get those for you, oh and the car?” She asked, realising you hadn’t explained.

Nat took the basket from your hand and put it in her cart despite your objections, “It just decided to give up on me, right in the middle of driving home. I text Tony and he said he’d get it moved tomorrow but then my phone died before I could call an uber so I had to walk the way back.” You coughed harshly as you explained what had happened, rubbing your throat with a whine.

“That’s some awful luck sweetheart, I’m sorry. How about we get you a few things and just spend the rest of the day being warm and cosy?” Nat offered as a pulled a stuffed animal from the shelf, nuzzling it against your cheek before putting it into the cart.

Your face lightened up a little and you found yourself keeping a little closer to her as the pair of you continued through the store, “You wanna get some ice cream for that poor throat of yours sweet girl?” She asked, but of course she already what the answer would be.

As you nodded eagerly, Natasha smiled, glad to see a hint of brightness returning to your expression. She led you to the freezer section, picking out your favourite flavour without hesitation. "Here we go," she said, placing it gently in the cart beside you. "Oh, and we should get some tea as well, all we have is that herbal stuff Wanda likes but it’s kinda bitter, you’ll feel better with something sweeter. I think.”

She kept her hand softly holding your own you both headed over to find the tea - occasionally pausing as Nat picked up some of the general groceries you needed but it was hard to miss how she kept adding in small treats for you along the way, your favourite drink, snacks she even chose your favourite scent of laundry detergent.

Eventually your fever raging brain felt too fuzzy to keep paying attention, so you switched off, trusting her enough to let her lead you along without asking questions.

Her voice seemed to echo and your vision blur before a hand cupping your cheek brought you back to reality. “Hey, earth to Y/N.” Natasha repeated herself, “You dazed out for a second there sweetie. Did you hear what I said?”

“Uh, no, sorry.” You answered sheepishly, warm embarrassment creeping up into your cheeks.

But Nat only smiled at you, her warm gaze making you relax, “I asked what tea you’d like baby.”

You nodded and turned to look over the assortment of boxes. You weren’t much of a tea person, in fact you never really drank it at all unless you were sick and Nat was definitely more of a coffee girl, herself. As you looked over the selection, a sudden sneeze caught you off guard, you stumbled back a little and bumped into Nat which made your girlfriend shake her head fondly as you sniffled in surprise.

“Bless you again. Looks like we’ll need some more tissues," She deducted, kissing your cheek swiftly before jogging back to the previous aisle, quickly returning with a few extra boxes and added them to the cart.

"You poor thing," Nat said sympathetically, as she opened one of the boxes in the cart and handing you a tissue. "Here, blow your nose love.”

“Thanks.”

“Berry-Bliss?” She read the name of the tea you’d chosen, after you’d finished blowing nose. “Is that one the kind you want?”

You shrugged sluggishly, biting back a groan as your muscles ached, “I’ll give it a try.”

“Worth a try.” She agreed, taking the box from you, not missing the chance to kiss your forehead as she did so. “You’re really warm baby. How about we pay up and get you back home sweetheart? I know you’re exhausted.”

As she suggested heading home, you nodded gratefully, taking her hand and letting her lead you towards the check outs. It wouldn’t take long to pay and get home but when you did, you knew you were in for an evening of cuddling and love.

Who could ask for more?

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[risuola]

DO YOU WANT TO STAY? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

After the painful breakup with Satoru, your friends dragged you out for the party to have you loosen up, but the night went very wrong and very right.

cw: smut, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, mentions of alcohol, brief violence, mentions of blood and very, very minor injuries (like scratches), little bit of post-breakup depression but nothing major; angsty vibes nonetheless, reader discretion is advised — 5,5k words

In the coldness of the dark night, you tried to get to your apartment, kick off those high heeled torture devices you’ve decided to put on earlier that day and just sink into the softness of your bed. Maybe right after washing away the concoction of cologne that lingered all over your figure, resulting from the awful experience that was clubbing with your friends. Fed up with all of the drunk assholes that tried to get into your pants with no shame whatsoever, you left, sending just a short text to Suguru. Resigned after trying to catch a taxi for few minutes, you moved by feet, cussing under your breath for the shoes you wore and if not for the filthy ground that disgusted you, you’d already be barefoot.

Padding in short, quick steps, you dumbly decided to cut the way with the shortcut that led you through the dark, stripped of most lights side-street-areas, the ones that nobody in the right mind would choose at any circumstance, but you were far from the right mind, when your feet felt like they were bathing in their own blood, with skin peeling through each and every step you pushed forward. And you thought you’re being lucky that night, seeing nobody in your way as you strode through the dark alley, before your hopes crushed in pieces as few men twice your size stepped right in front of you. Instinctively, you backed out and glanced behind yourself, thinking that maybe it still wasn’t too late to run back to the main street, but as you did that, the way closed by another wall of muscle. Trapped in the circle of misfortune, you noticed the metallic shine of bats few of them held loosely propped on their shoulders as they measured you out with their filthy eyes, grinning so wildly, you could see their teeth reflecting light even in the darkness of the alley.

“What do we have here, huhh?” one of them spoke and a mixture of laughs and chuckles, huffs and groans followed the question, along with many disgusting comments that made the horny men in the club look nearly innocent, as you thought about it.

“I’m just passing,” you said, swallowing the shake of your voice down to at least look like you were keeping composure, which you definitely didn’t. Resignation began flooding your system whilst the circle tightened around you, invading your personal space, making you feel smaller than you really were and causing your brain to forget all of the self-defense skills you had. It wasn’t much, but anything could possibly be better than just giving up, but you were already broken, doubting that any more damage could make things worse.

Just a month ago, you broke up with your boyfriend of twelve. It was heading towards the first real anniversary of your seemingly joyful relationship when everything crumbled right in front of your eyes, collapsing like a house made of cards. Satoru Gojo was everyone’s favorite – truly, everyone loved him – girls wanted to be with him, boys wanted to be him; students admired him, he was teacher’s favorite with his perfect grades, the know-it-all, the golden boy and even his enemies, that he had a lot of, would give everything to just once wear his skin and be him, be the infamous Satoru. And he was yours, for a year before the bubble burst and everything you tried to build with him shattered, along with your whole world. He was your whole world, you loved him sincerely, with all his flaws that he had quite a few, with all of his charms and wits, all of his handsome looks and every single one worn out, tired picture he hid from the outside world, but you were his inside world so you saw all of him.

When the break-up happened and the ground underneath your feet crushed, leaving you in shock so deep that you bluntly agreed to staying friends, as he briefly suggested in between his venomous spits, considering your shared group of close friends, but it turned out that staying friends after being so close and intimate wasn’t necessarily possible, at least for you. With memories of many nights filled with exploring each other’s bodies to the point of nearly passing out tattooed inside your mind, you couldn’t just watch as he poured his natural charm onto someone else than you so you quickly cut him off, removing his socials from your followings, removing him from your sight and retracting from any group activity with people that you called your friends as well. You couldn’t be in places where he was present, couldn’t see how effortless flirting was for him just days after he became free, how well he was presenting himself when you tried your best not to cry at the thought of him alone, not to say the sight of him with the crowd of thirsty girls at his feet.

It’s been a month and you still felt broken, so broken, in fact, that you were deliberately giving up fight in the threatening situation you found yourself in. It was your fault, after all, to try and cut your way short when you should never step into one of those side-alleys, aware of what Tokyo darkness’ hides. Silently, you hoped to just die here quickly, as you wished many times in the past few weeks, the heartbroken feeling slowly suffocating you inside the walls of your apartment that you trapped yourself in before your friends forced you out to club that night. And you pulled yourself together earlier that day, made yourself look presentable and even put on those fucking heels, determined to drown your sorrows in the sweet alcoholic drinks, to open up to new people, to feel like yourself once again and maybe, just maybe, find yourself a man, even if it’s just for the night because no one could replace Satoru. And you failed miserably, unable to have any fun in the crowded, sweaty space full of swaying bodies and disgusted at the thought of having sex with anyone there. You were never a party nor quickie kind of girl, you only began attending clubs with Satoru as he liked those loud musical gatherings and you found comfort alongside him, with the safe shelter of his protective arms the crowd around you seemed nonexistent and now, as the barrier of his muscles was taken away, you felt almost threatened by the drunk-dazed atmosphere so you ran away, giving in to your self-preservation instincts that clearly wore off when you turned into the alley off the main road.

“What should we do with you, princess?” one man asked, grinning widely and you felt the coldness of his steely bat underneath your chin that forced your head up enough to face him. “Oh, don’t cry, it’s gonna be soooo fun,” another added and it's at this point that you realized that a tear run down your cheek so you quickly wiped it away, wondering if it was caused by the fear or the wave of regret following the rush of memories that just a second ago flooded your system as you tried to recall why you even ended up in that situation, reminding yourself of the post-Satoru depression. “For us, at least. For you maybe not so much,” a laugh reached your ear from the back as you felt a hand gluing itself to the curve of your waist, and you flinched uncontrollably while your whole body was declining you anything above that movement. Cursing yourself, cursing the world around you, you tried to force your muscles to contract again, to move at any direction, to run if you’re lucky. Maybe the high heeled shoes could make for a weapon, maybe you could at least poke someone’s eye out, maybe you could do something, but instead, you did nothing. Squeezing your eyes shut and lowering your head, resigned and slowly agreeing to enter hell that was about to open right before you, you froze once again hearing a pained whine right behind your back. The palm that just a second ago was pressed disgustingly to your body was now gone and you were too scared to look at what happened so you stood in place, hoping that a black hole opened behind you, swallowing the man that threatened you.

“I’ll say it only once,” a voice you heard made your eyes snap open, but you kept them fixed on the ground, convinced that your brain, influenced by alcohol, fear and despair, was making things up at this point. “All of you, keep your hands off of her, understood? It’d better if y’all just run so nobody gets hurt.” You heard it again, you heard him again, the strict tone with honeyed undercurrent, and the shadows consumed your trembling figure as his towering body stood in front of you, effectively creating a barrier between you and the gangsters. You raised your head, your eyes run over the lines of his broad back until they finally landed on the messy head of snowy-white hair that even in the murky area stood out. He looked relaxed, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his varsity jacket and his head tilted slightly to the side. You took one step back but your feet met something that block it – that something being an unconscious body of a man that previously was touching your side. Stunned, you looked forward once again, only to see the scene of calculated violence playing out as Satoru easily dealt with hooligans. With quick, impressive displays of agility and strength, he put down one by one, effectively clearing the way for you to go home, but you stayed where you were until he finally finished the beating.

“Y’alright?” he asked and all you could do was nod when he grabbed your forearm, pulling you to leave the place of danger. Your body barely moved, tensed painfully and you felt the burn spreading along your skin from where his fingers were wrapped around your flesh. Forcing your legs to move, you tried to match his pace as he was leading the way towards your flat, hand still keeping a secure hold on you as he looked forward.

It’s in front of your building when you finally jerked your arm out of his grasp and he looked down at you, almost offended at how desperately you distanced yourself from his touch when before you’d lean into it instantly. Standing there, you finally locked eyes with his crystalline blue ones, that were looking down at you through the light strands of his hair and you couldn’t help but notice they’re longer than he’d usually keep them, crossing the length of comfort – as he used to call it – with the pukes irritating his eyes when below it. His seemingly neutral expression hid some tension, you noticed his brows creasing just slightly and his jaw flexing underneath the light layer of his skin.

“I leave you for what, few weeks, and you’re already getting in trouble?” he snapped rolling his eyes out of habit, but you could tell it was far from his usual teasing tone and he hated the way you were looking at him, or rather, through him. Your ability to see through every single of his little lies never annoyed him more than in this very moment, whilst you two stood awkwardly underneath the block you live in – the same one he used to live in with you, finding it convenient because of the shorter route he had to take from your place to college, comparing to the one he had from his own. “No wonder you’re in hot water when you walk naked through the shadiest alleys available.”

“I’m not naked, Gojo.”

“Gojo, huh?” he hummed in displease and chuckled bitterly at the unfamiliar sound of his last name rolling off your tongue. “That’s what you revoke me to? Not even a ‘thank you’ for saving your dumb ass a moment ago?”

“I don’t recall calling for your help,” you snapped, feeling the sudden wave of anger washing over you, as his words stung just as they were a month ago, but the angry feeling was gone as soon as it flowed in, when you noticed his hands. Knuckles stained in red, glistening in the street-lights as some spots were still bleeding after he punched down a little group of hooligans barehanded. In your defense. “You’re bleeding.”

“Another reason why you should be a little more thankful”, narrowing his eyes, he tried to hide his hands from you but you grabbed one of them and as you examined the damage, guilt began making your eyes wet, your mind unable to bear with the thought of any hurt happening to the man you still love so much it began killing you the second he was gone. Blinking the tears away, you exhaled. “Come inside, I’ll-“

“No need,” he grunted instantly, taking his hand back by force but you insisted, “please, let me at least clean these.”

Satoru started to regret the decision as soon as he stepped into your apartment, with all of the memories hitting him like a brick the moment he looked around the place. It looked all too familiar, everything so similar to how he left it a month ago, he was almost convinced you didn't change anything since that day. A blanket he bought you still hung loosely on the couch back rest, a cup from which he used to drink his morning coffee still was standing on the kitchen counter and even the chair in the living room was still pushed near the sofa, serving no real purpose for you whilst he liked to put his legs up while watching TV, being too tall to fit comfortably on your furniture. Everything felt so similar, like it was his home but now it wasn’t anymore.

“Come”, you snapped him from the trance and he followed you to kitchen island, where you already pulled the first aid kit to dress his injuries. You made him sit on the high-chair, while you kept standing on the ground and as you focused on cleaning his knuckles gently, Satoru could shamelessly analyze your features. Unable to deny your cute concentration, the corners of his mouth curled up just slightly as he noticed your brows furrow when you discovered more and more scratches along his skin. If it was his decision, he would just wash his hand at home and call it, but you always liked to take care of him and he often got home with scratches, sometimes getting them just to be tend by you, making you laugh at the unwise effort. If he wanted more attention from you, he could have asked – you always said, joking that although you’d try, you’re not sure if more attention was even possible as he took all of your mind. Now, as he looked at the precise movements of your gentle fingers, he wondered if he’s still appearing in your thoughts sometimes or have you pushed him out completely.

With a cloth and warm water, you cleaned the blood off his knuckles, revealing many little wounds that although shallow and harmless, will sting like hell when you use the disinfectant so you sighed quietly, already hating the thought of hurting him more. “There was no need for all that,” your voice was quiet enough, that if not for the complete silence of your apartment, he might have missed it. “You just got hurt.”

“And you might have been hurt much more than I am now,” he forced his tone to sound somewhat calm but his insides were burning. How could you say such things? How could you prioritize his well-being over your own, after what he’s put you through.

“I kinda wish I was,” you blurted out, pressing the gauze soaked in alcohol to his knuckles but it caused no reaction, as Satoru looked at you stunned. The words that just left your mouth were sinking in, and he found himself unable to speak.

“What do you even mean?” he forced finally, his voice lower and angrier and you tensed at the sound of his usual soft, melodic tone now stained with rageful undertones. “What do you mean, ‘you wish you were hurt’?”

“Pain that’s physical is easier to bear,” you replied quietly and cleared your throat, changing the subject as you finished wrapping his hands with thin, protective layer of bandage. “It should be good.”

"And what makes you so unhappy that you're that desperate for your body to hurt, huh?" Satoru asked, his face twisting in annoyance. "Surely, it cannot be me." The thought alone, the very idea that he might be the reason for you wanting to feel physical pain just to dull the mental made his insides turn with guilt but his effort to sound unbothered caused you to shut down and step back.

"No," you lied, packing up the first aid kit, looking strictly down. "It's nothing, forget it."

"It's not nothing, I want to know-"

"Not everything can always be as you want it," you snapped, walking away to put the kit where it belonged in the kitchen cabinet, silently hating yourself for the tears that moistened your eyes, hating the heartbroken feeling he fueled so skillfully with his nonchalant speech. You exhaled shakily, "y-you should go."

"Yeah. I think I should," he got up from the chair but instead of heading out, he circled the island in few large strides to catch your shaking hands and pull you into his chest. "But I won't. I need to talk to you. I have to."

"You said everything a month ago. You said enough back then, do you truly have anything to add?", the question rendered you hopeful that he's not going to say anything more because you couldn't take anything more. You were hurt through and through, your soul was crying and bleeding every second of every day since the one that broke you and you knew that you were way too close to the edge to take any more stabs of his sharp tongue and not fall down.

"Yes, I have," he kept you close but you don't fight. With your cheek pressed against his heartbeat and his strong hands secured around your shoulders and back, you kept yours down, hanging alongside your body afraid to touch him because if you’d allow your arms to embrace him, you might never let him go, risking another tear of your soul if he ripped away. "I want to apologize. For everything I did and I said then and now, and any time. I'm constantly talking shit, I don't know – fuck, I feel like sometimes my brain just shuts off. I'm sorry."

"You're what?", stunned, you forgot how to breathe and only whisper pushed through your mouth as you listened to his rambling.

"I'm sorry, y/n, sugar. I'm sorry, I've never... I didn't mean to- I don't know, I don't even know how explain it."

He spoke and your world stopped.

"What does that mean?", you asked, unable to hide the spark of hope that crawled into your voice as you breathed in his scent, absorbing his aura full of familiarity and warmth that you used to bask in every day since you got together. Your relationship always was heavily physical, it was the love language you both shared and you loved the way his hands never seemed to not be touching you, whether it was keeping you pressed against his chest or just smoothing over your hand with his fingers.

"It means I'm an idiot, that's what it means. No one ever I can love like I love you; I can't stop thinking about you, I can't sleep, god, I feel like I can't breathe. What I'm trying to say, uh... Fuck, I miss you, 'kay?"

"But you told me to go to hell", you reminded yourself and him as well, in your head replaying the cruel record that broke your world into pieces. "You told me-"

"I know", he stopped you from talking and you felt his body shifting slightly as his hand found your cheek, cupping it tenderly and lifting it so you looked up at him. Locking eyes with his light blue crystals you searched for the truth but couldn’t see anything. Satoru's heart broke once again when he noticed the intense shine of your eyeballs, wet from tears that you desperately tried to hold back. "That day I was... It was a bad day; nothing justifies it but I wasn’t thinking clearly. That day I hurt everyone around me, you, Suguru, Shoko, I even insulted Mei and she’s hard to hurt. Chain reaction of my stupidity, I ruined everything and as they forgot about it quickly, I couldn't bring myself to face you after what rolled off my tongue. And then I couldn't find you."

"I couldn't be seeing you so shamelessly flirting with everyone around you. I cut myself off", you said quietly, laying your hand over his own pressed against your cheek as his thumb smoothed over the damp skin underneath your lower lashes, wiping the salty residues away.

"I was being stupid," he sighed. His eyes lowered a little to glance over your lips, suddenly unable to resist you, losing the last bits of self-control the longer he looked at you. "It's you that I love, sugar." With that, his head lowered slowly, giving you enough time to push him away if you really wanted to, but you stayed in place, as if you were expecting what follows so he pressed his lips against yours, squeezing the gasp out of your chest and you couldn’t fight him when he was kissing you like he's starved.

The moment your mouths connected made you feel dizzy and you felt your knees buckling underneath the weight of his feeling. Instinctively, feeling you lose your balance, Satoru grabbed you by the hips and lifted you effortlessly, sitting you on top of the kitchen island and wiggling his way in between your legs to keep your body as close to his own as possible. You whined quietly, feeling the cold marble underneath your naked thighs where the dress rolled up. The kiss became messier, burning with lust and longing and you wrapped your legs around his middle, pulling him even closer, already tugging at his t-shirt that realistically you couldn’t take off because of the jacket still hugging his broad shoulders. Gojo read your intentions and pushed the garment off, breaking the kiss just for a second so you could take the black blouse off of his toned body, revealing the light skin strangely clear of any nail marks and love bites that you usually adorned him with and he wore those with pride. Your hands glued themselves to the softness of his flesh, examining the bumps of muscles flexing beneath your touch, and he crashed his lips against yours once again, kissing you messy and teethy as your tongues danced to the fiery melody of desire. Satoru was quick to encourage your dress to come even higher, his hand reached to the back, where he knew a full-dress-length zipper was waiting to be pulled down and he grinned into the kiss whilst exposing your velvety skin completely to his disposal. Wasting no time, he took you closer, smoothing over curves of your perfect figure, squeezing your supple flesh and you melted into the touch of his warm fingers with a soft whine that you couldn’t stop.

Satoru moved down, smearing kisses along your face, through jawline and onto your neck and shoulders and you couldn’t hold back a quiet moan at the feeling of his plush lips sucking spots on their way down. Brushing through his silky white strands, you allowed him to push down the straps of your lacy bra and before you noticed, it was off and on the ground as the man lifted you up from the cold counter, heading towards the conjoined living area and soon dropping you onto the soft couch, following you closely. You bounced slightly off the pillowy seats as he hovered above you, his lips glued to your skin, marking and exploring every inch as he moved down to take care of your chest and you stroked his strong shoulders, scratching them red.

Your body jolted up when suddenly you felt pressure of Satoru’s fingers over your clothed clit, as he rubbed circles over the sensitive bud while his mouth worked your perky nipples. The way his tongue danced around the pebble and how his teeth grazed the delicate skin continuously made you forget your own name, but for him it mattered only if you remembered his. Your mind became hazy, you felt like nothing else existed except for the man above you and you made your way down to unbuckle his jeans, impatiently diving your hand right into his boxers and wrapping your cold digits around his already hardened shaft. His cock was thick and leaking, begging for attention and it sprung out long when you pulled him out the trap that was his underwear. Satoru moaned against your breast, for a moment forgetting about the nipple in his mouth that he was in the middle of teasing, when he felt your grip moving up and down his length just right, spreading the pre-cum over it, and he knew he cannot wait any longer. He raised up on his knees, taking the panties off your body and finally kicking away the rest of his clothes before he fell back over you. His face met yours in another passionate, wet kiss and you moaned into it, as he worked his fingers between your folds, bullying your tenderness shamelessly and forcing many more sweet whines and whimpers from your chest.

“Satoruuu”, you mewled and he grinned at the sound of his name coming from you. “Don’t tease me so much, please”, pleading, you tugged at his hair and he chuckled at the eagerness in your tone. But he knew how big he is and even sleeping with him regularly, he more often than not had to prepare you for the stretch that was Gojo Satoru. “Don’t wanna hurt you, yeah?”, he smiled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking softly at the pulse and you just wanted him inside, no matter the consequences. “I can take you”, you ensured, “please, ‘toru.”

And what kind of man would Satoru be if he denied a pretty lady what she wanted and if feeling the burn is what you truly desired, he was going to give it to you. Being desperate himself,he stroked his length few times more before he smeared the head along your soaked folds and aligned the tip at your entrance, already knowing he’s gonna see tears very soon. And he did – your cheeks dampened as the burning stretch paralyzed the nerves all along your body and the tearing pleasure waved over your entire existence. Satoru groaned low through his clenched teeth at how your velvety walls were squeezing around his shaft as he slowly bottomed out. “God, I love you so much,” he growled into your ear and your dead-grip on his shoulders softened, letting him know that he’s good to move so he dragged his hips back almost completely, engrossed with the way your tight pussy tried to suck him back. Hot wave rushed through your body, as he began thrusting slowly and purposefully, clawing at one of your hips to ground himself before he loses composure in the way your cunt swallowed him whole time after time. He supported his weight on the other hand on the armrest behind your head, and gven the access to his body, you allowed your hands to wander all over his well-build form, leaving scratches and crescent-moons here and there with your long nails. Your fingers moved on their own, subconsciously tracing over the familiar musculature, refreshing the memory of a body that was burned into your mind. A whimper left your mouth when Satoru rolled his hips into you quicker, picking up the pace gradually and it almost hurt how deep he reached, kissing every sensitive spot inside you and it made your mind go blank of anything that wasn’t him. You smoothed over his flexing biceps, squeezing it tightly when he adjusted the position of your hips to ram his own into them harder.

Smearing kisses along your jawline, Gojo tasted your skin with pleasured hums, drowning in divine feeling of your pretty cunt eagerly taking him in, listening to the whimpers and mewls intertwined with little I love you’s that slipped through your parted lips in breathy tones. Warmth began pooling below his stomach as he praised you for doing so well after such long time and you cried out a moan when his hips buckled up sharper and rougher. He was drunk in the godly presence that you were, intoxicating himself with everything that was you – your taste, the scent your delicate skin held, the image of your flushed cheeks glistening with tears that his size caused and those were the only tears he accepted on your face. Beautiful crystals of wetness gathering along your lashes as he split you open with the unforgivable pace he has set, pushing up against every sweet spot inside of you and making you lose every last bit of real-world connection.

Blissful daze suited you and Satoru couldn’t get enough of the sight of your fucked out expression, wearing the same one himself, as his pace stuttered due to the delightful series of twitches and flexes your pussy did around him. Your toes were curling, thighs shaking and it only made him go harder. In a messy cacophony of pants and whines, you managed to unknowingly call his name again and again, ridding Satoru of every last bit of clear-thinking as suddenly, he wanted to hear only that sweet sound of your breathless voice. The voice he’s been dreaming about for the last weeks.

His cock twitched and thickened inside of you, pressuring your sensitive walls even more as he collapsed on his elbow next to your ribcage, sliding his forearm below your arched back and reaching new angles as your hips rolled forward. His fingers curled over your soft flesh as he was slamming his pelvis into your own, his pace became messied, more rushed, as he felt your orgasm approaching. You creamed all over his shaft, the white gathering at the base of it, as your pussy tightened and squelched delightfully in waves. Your gaze was heavy and you couldn’t focus on where your hands were landing as you felt the bliss washing all over your figure. Your thighs were trembling, your nails run over Gojo’s back, leaving red marks that for sure will sting later and you held onto his shoulders for dear life when he picked up the tempo even more, chasing his own release. Smearing wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your chest, Gojo leaned into the dip above your collar bone, groaning and breathing heavily as in few more pushes, his orgasm snapped, rushing hot with his load spilling inside of you. You felt his teeth sinking into your skin right where your neck connected to the shoulder and you couldn’t help but moan once again at the new painful pleasure. His brute pace slowed down, becoming messy and languid and his body fell over you, weighing you down onto the couch. You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him from lifting up, not at all caring about his weight crashing your own. Last drops of his load were squeezed by your walls before he slowly pulled out, exhaling deeply against your skin and you laughed joyfully.

Your voice was tired, your entire body ached from the unexpected activity but you felt happy for the first time in a month, suddenly grateful for your friends to take you out that day. Satoru at first basked in the sound of your chuckle before he joined, overwhelmed by the blissful daze. Both of you were worn off, sticky and completely fucked out and yet deeply satisfied and although still far from good as a pair, it already was much better.

“Fuck, I love you so much”, Satoru breathed out, planting few soft, ghosting kisses over the imprint of his teeth that already began to bruise up, coloring your smooth complexion with reds and purples as the mark was blooming.

“Do you, uh-“, you started but voice died down your throat; you were terrified of an answer. Gathering the strength, you continued, “do you want to stay…? With me…?”

Satoru grinned handsomely as he lifted his head up and your sight met the crystalline blue gaze of his eyes. His white eyelashes fluttered when he blinked, mesmerizing you all over again with the magical look of his features, his cheeks still stained with the faint blissful flush and you looked at his face with hope. “Yes”, he finally spoke and you felt your heart banging against your ribcage, as if it wanted to jump through it and kiss him itself. “I want to stay with you. Forever.”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #satoru x reader

[ironambivalence]

please rape my asshole sir

Until it’s a gaping, fucked out mess. Until my thick cock is buried so deeply in your ass you feel like it’s moving in your stomach. Until the pain and impossibility of pleasure begins to perversely make your cunt drip, relishing your own abuse. Relishing the humiliation of being used purely for another’s pleasure.

Of course, that’s when I’ll angle the head of my cock straight down, your holes distorting as I punish the front wall of your cunt through your bruised asshole. Massaging your g spot with the head of my cock as you feel a pressure and need building, face down on that dirty bathroom floor, wondering if this is the night you cum from being assfucked like a cheap whore.

Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I don’t really care if your pathetic sobbing and whimpering is from pleasure or pain. Either way, I’m shoving my cock down your throat to shut you up, savoring the disgust, then resignation in your eyes as you finally black out.

Maybe I’ll toss you in the trunk of my car and drive you home like normal. Maybe I’ll leave you chained to a back alley dumpster for the drunks at closing time.

#abuse k1nk #humiliation kink #degredation kink #bd/sm kink #bd/sm dom #bd/sm slave #cnc k!nk #rough cnc #r4p3 kink #r@pe k1nk #r@pe k!nk #r@pe kink #r@pe fantasy #cnc rough

[mosaickiwi]

yoohoo!!! @nabi004 and @mialuna4 and that one anon!!! sick angel request!!! many thanks for the love <3

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~A Sick Angel~

“Can you please—”

“No.”

The past few minutes had been like talking to a brick wall. [REDACTED] hadn't let you move an inch from the bed since you’d woken up in an agonizing daze.

Sure, you felt like complete shit, maybe a little on the side of a fever. And the moment you sat up you wanted to scream. But it was manageable. If you tried, you'd be able to make it through a day at the library. 

Blue eyes quickly narrowed, as if they knew exactly what you were thinking. It was frustrating how stubborn they could be when he wanted to.

You attempted to frown at your companion. Nothing really changed about your haggard expression—thanks to your face and entire body feeling like dead weight—but your tone worked well enough. “I need to go to work today.”

“Not happening,” he insisted as he reached up to your forehead.

You closed your eyes for just a second. His cold palm against your brow was too heavenly to ignore. “I don't want to let Elanor down. Today's really important for her,” you croaked.

They didn't bother to hide the momentary disgust in their tone at the mention of your coworker. “She wouldn't want y’working either, Angel.” As if to prove his point, they tapped away on your phone. He'd been holding it hostage behind his back. 

Only a minute later, it dinged with a response and he finally held it out to you. Elanor had sent a polite and elaborate text as always. You read through it while he continued to run both of their cold hands over your heated face like two makeshift ice packs.

Good morning, [REDACTED]. At least I assume so from how brief that message was? Thank you for letting me know Y/N is ill! I'm sure they must be worried about missing today's event but we can handle it just fine! And I’m happy to take some pictures for them! Please take good care of them and give my well wishes. Regards, Elanor.

You raised an eyebrow and scrolled back up to the paltry message he'd sent her.

sick no work

Somehow, it was probably the nicest thing they'd ever managed to send any of your friends. You looked back up at him with what was meant to be a pout. “Okay then.”

With instant trust in your word, he stood up to leave the room. He soon returned with his arms full. A cold compress, medicine, some drinks, and anything else they thought you might need. You lightly rolled your neck and resigned to your fate as a patient when he sat next to you. The medicine and drink he offered were swallowed without fuss on your part, then you laid down. The throbbing pain already seemed to calm as you did.

The compress stayed at his side instead of being placed on your forehead like you thought. You felt their hand on your cheek yet again, a more noticeable chill to his rough skin this time.

“Just in case it feels too cold f’you,” he explained before you even asked.

It felt perfect, so you didn't mind at all. You practically purred in relief at the gentle circles they rubbed. You tiredly looked up to him as you complained, if only to tease them, “I'm a little disappointed you didn't bring out the nurse outfit.”

“‘Course you are.” His eyes lit up with mischief, a knowing smile cut across his lips to match your playful one. “I'll make it up t’you when y'feel better, yeah?” Their thumb slowly traced back and forth from one corner of your mouth to the other.

“Germs, you weirdo,” you reminded him. Though you didn't bother to shake off his hand, weak as you were. “You’ll get sick.”

“Y’worried about me, love? Cute. But I promise ‘M not gonna catch whatever you have that easy.” They leaned down to kiss your flushed temple, eventually settling propped up on one arm to lay as close as possible beside you. Faintly warm breath tickled the top of your head until you drifted back to sleep under their watchful gaze.

#14 days with you #14dwy redacted #momo reqs #hehehe :3 #requested THREE TIMES?? #i was gonna write something like this eventually so yayyy #look elanor's in there!!! #she is SO rude to redacted omg #<- she only said regards instead of KIND regards #scandalous #he deserves fewer exclamation points in her mind (but still gets some) #bro didn't even use punctuation themselves #also!! angel: halfway lucid trying to read words #redacted: i must touch and squish

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (5)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, arranged engagement, beheading, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He wasn't sure how many years it had been since he had really cried. When he tried to remember it seemed to him that the last time it had happened was when he had lost an eye, when he had lost her, as he did now.

He was furious with himself, but he couldn't help the sobs that came out of his throat as he sat with his face hidden in his hands on his bed, his eye patch lying against his hip. Though he tried to calm down, convulsions shaked him.

You have done it now and you will do it again.

You abhore me and whenever you forget that I can give you pleasure, you will hurt me.

Something like a helpless, high-pitched, pathetic whine ripped from his throat as he once again recalled her words stifled in despair, the expression on her face, the cruel disappointment when she realised what he had become.

He cried because she had humiliated him, he cried because she had left him despite him asking her to stay, he cried because he loved her and he cried because he knew subconsciously that she had been right.

He was no different from his brother, whom he despised.

Although he wanted to think of himself as always being guided by cold reason and logic, it turned out that he was as thoughtless and impulsive as he was.

He couldn't erase from his mind her horrified expression, her loud sobs when he realised that he had held her cheeks between his fingers as tightly as if he wanted to break her jaw.

The thought that this could have all been planned by her mother, that she could have made a fool of him, made him want to cause her pain, to take his payment for the thought that she had deceived him.

However, when it became apparent that his forethought had gone too far, all that was left was her regret and his despair that he could not take it back.

At the same time, he wanted her to suffer and to be safe, to moan beneath him in pleasure and in terror, to smile and despair at the sight of him.

His disgust and adoration for her and her family fused into one in his mind and he couldn't separate it.

It was too late.

He was deciding that he would destroy her only to find, after a while, that he would attempt to reason with her, that what had happened between them had brought back those wonderful memories, had given him some kind of hope, although he didn't know for what.

They both knew that whatever they had shared as children had partly survived in this twisted, deformed, cruel form.

He only fell asleep in the morning, tired and resigned, terrified, trying to soothe himself with the thought of the warmth of her body, of their fingers brushing against each other in the air in the warm light of the fire.

In that one moment, he felt that it was like before.

He was awakened from his restless sleep by servants informing him that in a few hours there was to be a gathering in the throne room, to be presided over by his grandfather. With their help, he dressed in a simple emerald tunic, a gift from his mother, proof of whose side he was on, who he would support.

After what had happened during the night, he expected her visit.

Indeed, she appeared in his chamber as he sat thoughtfully at the table where his morning meal had been served, which he had not even touched, gazing thoughtfully out of the window.

"What have you done?" She asked with a grief and helplessness that frustrated him; he pressed his lips together at the thought of her comparing him to Aegon so easily, thinking that whatever his niece had given him, he had taken it by force.

"I don't know what you mean, mother." He replied emotionlessly, not even bestowing a single glance on her, in an involuntary reflex that he had inherited from her fiddling and plucking the cuticles around his fingernails, an expression of his subconscious anxiety and nervousness.

His Queen stood before him with her hands folded over her womb, looking at him pleadingly, as if she hoped he would tell her that what her guards had reported to her was not true.

"Your guards, Aemond. They heard inappropriate sounds coming from this chamber, and then they saw Rhaenyra's daughter running out of it crying." She said in a breaking, weak voice; he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, licking his lower lip impatiently.

"She came to me alone to speak and express to me her… longing. Nothing happened." He said, choosing his words so that they were not entirely a lie, realising with embarrassment that he could smell her moisture, her taste on his tongue, and a shudder went through him.

He rebuked himself in thought, swallowing loudly, running his hand over his face, reminding himself that his mother was standing before him.

His mother looked out of the window, breathing loudly, knowing there was something else lurking in his words. She ran her hand over her neck as if trying to calm herself and not panic.

"Should…should she drink the moon tea?" She choked out at last in a low, desperate voice, and he lifted his gaze to her, heavy and dark.

"No."

His word hung in the air like a storm cloud; there was something final in his voice, ending the discussion in his mind.

His mother breathed a quiet sigh, as if relieved, but immediately doubt was on her face again, as if it only raised more questions and anger in her mind.

"Why didn't you send her away? Do you know how that might affect your future betrothal to Lord Baratheon's daughter? What would he say if he found out you were hosting another woman in your chamber at night?" She asked clearly losing her patience, but he was not sure if this was purely due to his behaviour or because she was taking it out on him for what Aegon had done and for not being able to reason with Helaena.

He turned away and answered nothing, looking out the window at the courtyard full of people – he heard her sigh of rage, felt her disappointment and dismay.

He didn't want to infuriate her further with words that he didn't give a shit about what Lord Baratheon or his daughters might have thought of him.

Even standing in the throne room they were separated from the others; he stood behind his brother and sister with his arms folded behind his back, pretending he felt nothing at the sight of Rhaenyra and her bastard son holding her hand as if he were an infant.

Something about the sight made him feel like he was going to vomit, the thought that Luke was pretending to be innocent, unaware, hurt.

Yet he was the one who had lost everything.

He tried to look only at him, but failed miserably, his gaze fleeing to his side, searching for her. He only found her, to his surprise, by Daemon's side; he was saying something to her with amusement and mockery, looking ahead nonchalantly. Even though she was pale, he noticed that there was a small smile on her face, from which he felt discomfort in his lower abdomen.

His would-be betrothed was dressed all in black, her gown fitted to her body, a single ruby ring on her finger, her bare neck and shoulders devoid of any adornment seemed even more shameless to him, by being exposed it focused his attention even more, coming to the fore surrounded at the back by her long dark hair.

He thought of her and Rhaenyra standing similarly, both of them playing with the rings on their fingers with their heads slightly tilted.

He pressed his lips together thinking of how not long ago he had kissed that beautiful long neck, how he had drank from her and licked her there, deep between her thighs, her forbidden fruit that he had tasted and by which he was cursed for eternity.

He swallowed hard when he saw that her gaze lifted to his uncle as if something he had said had surprised her and she laughed, sincerely and genuinely, revealing her teeth for a moment, then lowered her eyelids, still smiling, her eyes framed by her long black lashes.

Look at me, he thought with rage, not even seeing that his grandfather had already sat on the Iron Throne, that he had begun his speech – she, however, was looking at the stone floor in front of her.

There was something between them, he could feel it, some sort of bond from which fury rose in his throat.

He felt discomfort, he felt disappointment, he felt uncertainty.

His gaze shifted to Daemon, who also did not seem interested in what was happening around them.

He felt an unpleasant chill at the back of his neck at the thought that perhaps he had made the wrong assumption in thinking that he was the first man to have seen her bare body, to have touched her, and he felt a fury bordering on madness overwhelm him.

He had the feeling that none of what he was seeing was really happening.

Vaemond's words, then the sudden entrance of his father, who, though dying, found the strength as usual to defend her, his favourite, only child. He felt himself grinning, felt like laughing at this sight, so pathetic and saying everything about who they were for him.

An addition, a background.

He never felt important, loved or wanted in his eyes.

He was proud of him only once, when he commanded him to marry his niece and he agreed, but even in this he managed to disappoint his hopes.

He felt his breath stuck in his throat as he glanced at her involuntarily at the thought and their eyes met.

It seemed to him to startle her, as if he had caught her in the act.

She lowered her gaze, her eyebrows arched in pain, as if she was suffering at the sight of him.

Why?

Why couldn't he get her out of his thoughts and heart?

"Her children are BASTARDS!" He heard someone's enraged shout and turned his gaze towards him, looking at Vaemond with disbelief and awe.

"And she. Is. A whore."

All gathered made horrified, shocked sounds as the blade sliced through the air and part of Colrys Velaryon brother's head fell to the stone floor.

"He can keep his tongue." Said Daemon with some sort of boredom and disapproval, wiping his Dark Sister, Visenya's sword, against his tunic before the guards could reach him.

It seemed to him that everything that happened around them always came back to her words.

Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise.

Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys.

Standing beside the table before the supper that his father himself had insisted on, his older brother began showering him with questions that he had no desire to answer.

He was glancing once in a while at his niece, his uncle and his eldest daughter, Baela, who was standing on the other side of the chamber, looking at him sinisterly, playing with her necklace.

Whore.

He grinned at the thought of how he'd punched her in the face when they were children and thought he'd love to do it again.

"Our niece has quite a pleasant curves, don't you think, brother? Is she tight, or has uncle Daemon managed to stretch her out properly already?" He muttered while taking a deep sip of wine from his goblet – he looked at him with a gaze from which his elder brother merely rolled his eyes and fell silent.

As the King was carried into the chamber everyone took their seats; he felt his jaw clench at the sight of her sitting at the end of the table to the left of Daemon, as far away from him as possible. His impatience and gloomy musings were interrupted by the voice of his mother, who had decided to pray for Vaemond, and then make a toast.

"I would like to raise my cup for Jace and Baela and Luke and Rhaena, hoping that their marriages will be prosperous and blessed. I would also like to raise my cup to my son, Aemond, who will soon marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters." She said softly; an uncomfortable silence fell around her, his heart pounding like mad.

He looked at her, but her blank gaze was fixed on her plate, her lips pressed together, her face pale; he had the impression that her body was trembling almost imperceptibly.

Say something, he thought, although he couldn't tell if he was directing his thought to himself or to her.

"I do not recall my brother's decision to marry Prince Aemond to my daughter ever being called into question." Said Daemon, startling him completely, he and his niece cast quick, horrified glances at each other, shocked.

Oh fuck.

Alicent laughed nervously, shaking her head, glancing at her husband for support.

"We've made a mutual decision that it's not worth stinging an old wound, haven't we, my love?" She asked, but his father remained silent.

He pressed his lips together, feeling the rapid beating of his heart as his King looked at him, breathing heavily through his mouth, looking at him thoughtfully, his gaze weary.

"You have made it, Alicent. I never had a say in the matter. But the House of the Dragon will not remain strong unless it is finally united." He said impatiently, in a hoarse, broken voice, slamming his fist on the table, complete silence all around him.

"I do not want my decisions to lead to another misfortune. I am allowing our children to decide." He said with difficulty, his mother shook her head saying that it was impossible, that everything had already been settled.

There was a commotion at the table, Rhaenyra stood up saying that she would not force her daughter to do anything, however, she had already begun courting her to marry her cousin. Aegon laughed out loud, covering his mouth with his hand trying to hide his amusement, glancing at him with raised eyebrows.

He looked at her at last, the woman he had spent the night with, her eyelashes, her dark, wise, warm gaze, her lips parted in pain and fear, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her hair, her neck, her breasts that he caressed with such devotion, her thighs and what was between them, what could only be his if he said the word.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

"Aemond." His mother's pleading voice snapped him out of his thoughts; he looked at her with wide eye, in her gaze a plea for him not to let her down, not to betray her, to stand by her side.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her again, at the woman who was his curse.

"My niece is disgusted with me, is she not? Tell us what you think of me, my Lady Strong." He said coolly, wanting to shift the burden of this choice onto her, not willing to embarrass himself or show himself as desperate if she were to respond that she would never marry him.

He figured he'd give her a chance to end it once and for all, and then when she left him for the next and final time, he'd kill her with his own hands.

"My place is with you, uncle. It always has been."

Her answer, her expression, her plump lips parted in anguish, the tears at the corners of her eyes, her breasts rising and falling rapidly in horror at what she had just done made him simply stare at her in disbelief, silence all around them.

My place is with you, uncle.

It always has been.

He felt his heart squeeze so hard that he had trouble catching his breath – he lowered his gaze and, with a trembling hand, raised his cup to his lips, taking a deep sip from it, feeling that chaos reigned in his mind.

Despite the fact that for years he did not answer her.

Despite the fact that she was afraid of him.

Despite the fact that he hurt her.

Despite everything.

He looked at her and licked his lower lip, feigning indifference, raising his cup to his lips again to hide the thrill that lurked in his voice.

"So it is decided, father. We will marry."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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[tadpolesonalgae]

Play-mate[***]

Dark!Rhysand x reader

a/n: something so comforting about writing dark!character fics (is that worrying?)

Warnings: dark!Rhys, non-con, light choking, smut, fingering, degradation, brief impact ‘play’, overstimulation, squirting, nipple play, dumbification, breeding kink, this is a sequel to Desk Pet but can be read on its own

Word Count: 7, 245

Perhaps the one pleasure you can still keep safe is those rare but precious nights he works late. The ones where you’re allowed to resign yourself to lethargy, fatigue soothing your muscles as you melt across the small pallet that lays beside his own, much larger bed. Relaxing into the soft sponginess of the plump bedding, silky smooth fur swelling around your body as the plushness dips, swallowed by the single thick blanket you’re allowed in the winters.

With the darkness covering the lands so swiftly, you often find yourself lighting a few candles, disliking the obtrusive glow of the fae lights, plucking a thick book from his shelves, and curling up to read upon your meagre but wonderful pallet. Something more likely to be offered to a pet than a fae, but somehow large enough to comfortably contain you.

In your world of passiveness, it’s the single joy you’re allowed—reading on a cold winter night, tucked up cozily with a book, left entirely to yourself. No rough palms bruising your jaw, no deft fingers pushing into the slippery wetness of your mouth, nor touches that hurt more than frostbite.

Hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end, raising across your bare body, still kept entirely naked for his ease, and you discard the book, noting the page number. The wet roughness of your tongue swipes across the soft pads of your fingers, suffocating the tiny flames swiftly, keeping your digits flush until the skin stings, careful to keep too much smoke from filtering to the air. You want him to think you’re asleep—he’s less likely to take interest if he knows you won’t be reluctant. Less likely.

Freshly oiled hinges swing open silently, but you know he’s entered the chambers and you remain mostly concealed beneath the thick blanket, the soft cotton brushing your shoulders, hiding the intimate skin of your breasts.

The night before he’d taken a particular liking to them, teething across the aching peaks, suckling them into his mouth one at a time, grinding for a seemingly endless period between your legs, only the cloth of his finely tailored trousers protecting you from him. He’d bitten, sucked, pinched and flicked at your breasts until he’d finally been satiated from whatever sexual interest had initially grasped him. Tongue soothing the raw peaks, swollen and freshly-licked from attention, gleaming in the low lights like candy.

Now they ache more intensely, small threads of soreness plucking through your chest, small throbs of pain soothed into your flesh like a balm being rubbed into skin until it’s absorbed by the surrounding tissue. Brought in and softened, slowly seeping across your breasts, nipples still aching most acutely.

You hear him now, walking on cat-soft feet across the wooden panelling, skin prickling with familiar awareness as his attention skates over you like how your eyes would have, at some moment deep in the past, scanned your own bedroom upon entering it. Counting your belongs, making sure nothing had been displaced or removed without your knowledge: potted plants still sitting pretty along the windowsill; candles still decorating the side table; clothes folded unobtrusively atop a chest of draws to be put away. And so as your eyes would have once mindlessly catalogued your belongings, now his brush over you, curled neatly to the side of his bed, waiting patiently for use.

The thought has a kind of disgust rising in your stomach, one you thought had long since been numbed. Becoming so warped and twisted it would never flare again. Yet here it is, sitting gelatinously at the back of your mouth, resting fully in your throat, as if waiting to be regurgitated—spat out and disposed of so it’s no longer a bother.

He pauses adjacent to your bed, and you wonder if he’s reassessing your positioning. If he should have instead set your pallet at the foot of his bed so he wouldn’t be tasked with travelling to the other side for access. Instead the sound of muffled fabric floats to your pointed ears, conditioned to recognise all of his noises: onyx black buttons being slotted through midnight blue holes; fabric whispering as it’s shucked off broad shoulders that can carry the width of your waist, having been unkindly tossed over it more than once; ties that rasp like rope, and he pulls them free, loosening the band of his trousers before leaving to prop himself upon the bed, likely removing the rest of the clothes before disappearing into another room.

Even in the moments of his absence, his sense clings to you, as if he’s somehow been granted ubiquitous sight, observing you while he should not be able to. His magic settles in the air, thick and dense, like the fog that pools in valleys, masking the dangerous potholes and rocks that manage to stumble themselves into one’s pathway, creating a lethal road to navigate.

Sheets rustle, and you realise he must have re-entered at some point, having gone undetected as your mind helplessly wandered, seeking escape from the dreadful pleasure he so regularly subjects you to, forcing you to take long, languid drives of his hips, hands pulling and tangling with your hair, intrusive power seeping into your mind, controlling you from the inside out.

It’s only once he’s seemingly settled that you allow yourself to consider a hell-free night. Liberated, if only temporarily, from his deep aches and contagious pain. How he enjoys putting his sickness into your body, releasing his cruelty upon your bones, like you’ve done something wrong enough to be deserving of his inflictions.

Sheets rustle again, and your heart stumbles despite even breaths, ones that are deep and regular, suggesting peaceful sleep in the hopes of remaining undetected by his attention.

“I know you’re awake,” he says lowly.

Your skin prickles tightly, littered with goosebumps as his words send small thorns pushing into your tender flesh. He shifts on the bed, and you can feel as his eyes settle, taking in your form and the things he’s free to do to it.

“You think pretending to sleep will save you from me?” He asks, mirth clear in his honeyed voice, softer than satin, softer even than a lover’s, like warm clouds and fresh feathers. “Do you have any preference for what happens tonight?” He asks idly, as if speculating upon an item from a menu, considering his options with careless interest. He will get a meal no matter what he decides on.

Roughened fingers grip your shoulder firmly, and you fight the jolt that urges to burst through, remaining tight but relaxed, melting into the softness of your floor bed, willing him away. Willing yourself to appear quiet and uninteresting. For a short moment it appears to work, his touch leaving your dirtied skin, pulling back into the great warmth his own bed, as if he’s a beast who’s curling his tail in preparation for sleep, coiled tight to whip out at a moment’s notice.

But then the sheets rustle again, and a firm heat snakes down, slinking down as his power pulls back the corner of your blanket, allowing the naked sturdiness of him to collect at your back. One arm slides beneath your rib cage, folding at the joint to wrap across your middle, his large palm gripping the curve of your waist, pulling you flush to his chest while his free hand trails between your breasts, fingers feathering up to your throat, wrapping around the comparatively small extension. A heightened pulse drums against his digits, bumping against his tight hold, alerting him to your own awareness. Lips stretch beside your ear, hot mouth grazing its shell as he strokes your hip like you’re a pet to be soothed.

“Nothing to say for yourself, or do you simply not care?” He asks mildly. The sinister question registers fully in your mind, already beginning to shut down in attempts to preserve what little pieces you have left that he hasn’t already touched. “You were so vocal for me last night. What happened?” He laughs softly, the arm beneath you shifting so his fingers can graze your ribs, stroking just below your breast, still aching from his rough attention. He squeezes your throat a little tighter, eyes prickling with the pressure, the burning in the bridge of your nose. You won’t ask him to stop—you’d only be wasting your breath.

The High Lord hums at your back as if he’s disappointed by your lack of a response, put off now you aren’t doing as he likes, a small reminder while he may have control of almost everything in your life, he cannot control your thoughts. Or rather, if he did, there would be nothing left of you to enjoy: if he continues to replace small pieces of yourself, is it still you he’s playing with?

He releases your throat in favour of dipping to your breasts, the arm beneath you skating over the softness of your stomach, brushing with a feather-light touch over your abdomen, feeling the slight flutter of tension beneath his fingertips. Rhysand brings his mouth lower, suctioning over a small spot below your jaw, trailing along the tendon keeping your head to your shoulders, following to your collar bone. “Should I give these some more attention?” He inquires, and you bite back a pained noise as he pinches your nipple, tugging lightly on the bruised peak.

His other hand drops lower, exploring the familiar area leading between your legs that you’ve preemptively tried to lock together. The digits pause, feeling your obstinance, your clear reluctance to let him touch you any further, and he hums approvingly, pleased with your resistance. “Better,” he murmurs onto your skin, even as his magic wraps tightly around your thigh and ankle, pulling you back to lean against his chest, guiding your leg over his hips. You squirm at the invasive press of him between your thighs, gently forced open as his mouth latches over the intimate skin of your throat, lapping up your flavour as if he isn’t in possession of such sheer power that he’s able to have you whenever he pleases—and fully takes advantage of it.

Lips part as he cups your heat, pressure building behind your eyes as his fingers splay across the intimate part, lazily taking his time, both going slow for his own enjoyment and for your torture, making sure it’s dragged out as long as possible. He doesn’t want this to be something you can switch off for a few minutes a day, he needs it to be hours long, twisting you until you fit the shape of him, so wary and worn from taking him you end up bending and slotting to hold his impression within your bones. His finger presses to your clit and he relishes in the flinch he feels within your stomach and thighs, desperately suppressed on your side in attempts to keep his hunger at bay, as if the possibility of remaining indifferent to him might stave off the ferocious starvation than comes alive in him every night without fail.

“One day, lovely lamb, you’re going to break,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, digits lazily circling as he plays with you mindlessly, so well familiarised with your body he no longer needs to pay attention to where he’s touching—it will always be the right spot. “You’re going to shatter for me, and fall apart at my feet. All soft and pliable. Begging for me to either give you the pleasure you’ve spent so long resisting and hating, or for me to give you your end right then and there.” His fingers slide lower, his touch dripping across your skin as he flicks across your nipple, drawing a pained inhale from your mouth, caught off guard.

“Would you like to know what happens after that point?” He asks mildly, as if he can’t feel the way you’re trembling in his arms from the effort of keeping yourself together when he can pull you apart with such ease. There’s always that edge of terror when you’re forced to lie with him, that he might one day tire of your resistance and pluck at your mind for good, banish your rationality and lock it up somewhere, or simply annihilate it completely. That one day, he might decide to go into your mind, and steal it from you entirely, take control of you and make you truly beg for him like he enjoys seeing, having you perform for him dumbly, crawling toward him across the floor, touching yourself upon his bed, pleasuring him of your own accord. The fear never leaves you, that he might one day decide to make use of his daemati powers, and leverage them against you.

His palm smacks across your cheek, digits digging into the soft muscle of your jaw as he grips you punishingly, drawing you away from the torment of your inner thoughts. “Are you sure you want to do this dance tonight?” He asks lowly, able to feel the tautness of your limbs, how you’re trying not to squirm or recoil, trying not to fight against him. “I’m in a rather pleasant mood for once. I would suggest you try to appeal to my better side,” he advises coldly, hot lips brushing bare skin. “Is that clear?”

“Go to hell,” you manage weakly, tremors making their way into your voice.

The High Lord’s lips stretch into something wicked and pleased, hand sliding down to your throat, tilting your head so you’re leaning to give him more access, his grip swallowing your back whole. A low sound of pleasure drags from his chest, hips rolling languidly into your hind, fingers slipping lower to bask in the stiffness of your body as he presses to your entrance, leg still hooked over his hip so you can’t prevent it. Disgust crawls across your body, having your skin tighten with awareness and attention, focusing on where his touch is branding you, burning in his handprints so they’ll never leave your soul.

“You don’t like it when I touch you?” He provokes, hungry for resistance. “From the amount of times you’ve come on my fingers alone, I would have thought you like the way I can make you crumble.” His digits circle your entrance, keeping you pulled flush against his chest, forced to lean your weight onto his shoulder as he pushes in, and you want to scream at the invasion. How many times has it been, and yet it never gets any better, skin constantly soaked in oil, doused from head to toe in it so thoroughly you wish for a match to end you. One spark, and you’d be gone, blessedly free of him. Perhaps at last released to a place away from his touch, a world where you’re clean and safe, and you’d never met him.

Or at least, he’d never have forced you to be his.

Maybe there could have been a happy ending.

“I hate you,” you manage to hiss out, trying to ignore the sensation of his fingers pumping slowly, curling against spots he has no right to know or touch with such familiarity, digits dragging in and out until slick has begun to coalesce to prevent pain. Again he hums, and it sounds encouraging, like he wants you to repeat it, like the words give life to him, allow him to continue to thrive and feed off you. “I hate you,” you say again, voice breaking from how many times you’ve said so, and yet it never encapsulates the depth of betrayal that squirms in your gut, the anger and frustration that once burned in your chest at the severe maltreatment. Things could have turned out differently, if only…

“I hate you so much, Rhys.”

Pressure spills over, quietly dripping down your cheeks, hot water splashing down into the pillows. You don’t want to cry in front of him, don’t want to allow him that emotional proximity. He’s taken so much from you, it’s unfair that he will ruin this, too. His fingers graze a spot deeper, and your breath catches, familiar heat beginning to take root in the pit of your belly, that disgusting, shameful arousal he puts into your body, something you shouldn’t feel, ever, for him.

“I’m glad to know you feel so strongly for me,” he replies lowly, nipping at the tip of your ear, reminding you of all the other unpleasant things he’s served to you, the ways he’s used those teeth upon your body to summon pain to your skin. You wish he wouldn’t. If just for one night he would soften his touch, lessen the brutality he likes to play your body with.

If you gave into him…would he be nicer? You don’t understand where the thought comes from, but your mind has taken a severe turn since he first put his hands on you, rarely anymore surprised by the things that come and go, drifting by like leaves on the wind. Instead you allow yourself to ponder it, plucking it from the mellow streams of thought, cupping it in your hands to examine a little longer. Would it be worth it? The degradation of following along with him to grant yourself some reprieve? If it’s the only way to maintain your sanity, to keep yourself intact, isn’t that all that matters?

You dare experiment, trying to soften the tension in your muscles, to force yourself to melt over him, to reduce the tautness that’s been tightly stitched into your seams, until you’d become rigid and stiff. He’s surprisingly comfy, body slotting against yours, fingers continuing to slide in and out, and you manage to lean into him, skin pressing to skin, bare and prickling with awareness. You could swear one of his exhales sounds eerily like a laugh, like he’s enjoying watching you attempt to save yourself, but it’s something different, something more sinister you have yet to guess at. That perhaps he’s got some larger plot, and you’re falling nicely into place, manoeuvred by an unseen force.

“Enjoying yourself, lamb?” He asks beside your ear, a shiver passing down your spine at the lover’s caress. Teeth bite together against the sickening pleasure he’s bringing out of you through pumps and curls of his fingers, the base of his palm rolling into your clit. A small sound jumps from your tongue, a wash of heat soothing the pressure across your abdomen. Words of agreement rise to your lips in answer to his question, but you swallow them down thickly, feeling the syllables lodge in your throat beneath his palm. “I hate you,” you repeat, the only things left you can use as a defence, but even those three words seem to be losing their bite as your head lolls against his shoulder.

“You hate me?” Rhys breathes as he drags his fingers out fully, wetness trailing up your abdomen as he raises his hand to your mouth, just another obscene act he likes to watch you perform. The fixation he has with your mouth has never previously taken your attention, seemingly appearing as a familiar gesture when having intimacies with another person, yet you dwell on it for a little longer than usual when he runs the slick pads of his fingers over your lips. The digits part, and you can make out silvery strings connecting them together, like the threads of a cobweb.

“Open,” he goads, and your mouth parts without having to be asked twice. The taste blooms across your tongue, stark arousal that sparks heat in your lower body as he presses his fingers down, causing you to choke, gagging lightly as your throat contracts. His hips roll into yours at the sound, and you’re reminded of what other horrors he has yet to inflict upon you tonight.

“Aren’t you being good,” he whispers beside your ear, soft as silk, warm as freshly baked bread. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this docile. Feeling tired?” The remark should have been a warning to stay aware, you know firsthand that he’ll pounce at the first sign of lethargy. “Answer me,” he orders, but it’s with an ineffable lilt you’re unable to put your finger on. Like he’s finding something amusing, taking pleasure in being able to understand the bigger picture while you’re left to dumbly stumble to and fro, seeking the right path that he can see from high above and chooses to keep secret from you.

The words form in your mind, yes. I am tired. yet they come out softened and muffled, contorted as you babble them onto his long, elegant fingers that are lightly massaging your flavour into the hot, wet muscle. Fatigue weighs atop your lids, and you try again, I am tired, and I wish I could sleep myself away from you, but again, your words are scrambled, garbled into a slushy mess of syllables that feel like froth. Like trying to bite down on sea foam.

He laughs lowly, hips grinding into your backside, pulling his digits away, revealing the wetness that’s now soaking them, slathered in saliva, dripping with silvery weight and you watch distantly as they make the pathway back down your body, sliding effortlessly back into your heat. They push in softly, easing in their return, curling against spots that have you pulling against the urge to widen the stance of your legs.

The fight is often on both sides: why he’s so draining to be at the mercy of. On one hand there is your despair, the visceral hatred and frustration, the betrayal that could splinter your bones with its ferocity; on the other there is the overwhelming pleasure, coming with an intensity that regularly and repeatedly threatens to upend you entirely, to buck you off your wobbly standing and throw you to the floor with the sheer pleasure he knows how to deal you.

Shallow pants reach your ears, and you realise they are coming from your own mouth, pouring like a babbling stream as the unwilling sounds of pleasure crest on your tongue, skin heating as he presses tighter to your naked body, skin flush to skin, sharing heat in what should be an intimate display of affection, not such a gross abuse of power. Humiliation burns across your cheeks as you move your leg further over his hip, leaning more heavily into the supportive expanse of his chest, hands clutching the silky fur of your pallet.

His laugh whispers against your neck, breath fanning erotically across your throat and you shiver, inhaling softly as his long fingers continue to curl inside of you, beckoning you forward to the high he’s pulling up to blossom and bloom across your skin. “Does that feel good?” He asks softly, mischief prominent in his tone. “Knowing you’re going to be coming on my fingers? That I’m taking this from you, too?” A garbled sound floats from your mouth as the heel of his palm rolls across your clit, digits playing with you lazily, drawing pleasure up from the depths of your body as if his fingers possess the powers of dowsing rods, actively seeking out the spots that will swell with heat, flood your body with mind numbing goodness to have you melting into him.

The ridges of your nails scrape against the bedding, breaths stuttering out as he licks up your neck, gleaming white teeth grazing across the well-bitten skin, having been nipped at and had his mark stamped into you endlessly the night before. He hums absently, hand releasing your throat to drop lower, trailing between your breasts, and a drop of dread is dispersed across your conscious, like ink into water. “No…” you breathe weakly, heat building behind your eyes as he thumbs across your breast. “Rhys, please,” you mumble desperately, anxious to spare yourself from the sensitivity, the pain you’ll be exposed to should he choose to continue with his recent fixation on your breasts.

He groans at your back, palming at your chest, arousal concentrating in his veins as your body arches against him, bowing from his torso as pleasure and pain twine together. “Stop it,” you breathe, flinching as he pinches lightly at your nipple, rolling the abused peak between his fingers, tugging to call up more of your sweet pleas, the words that fuel his sadism, stoking the embers of his hunger, whetting his appetite for your reactions. “No? You don’t like this?” He croons beside your ear, talking down to you as if his words need to be dumbed down to be digestible. “Want me to touch you somewhere else?”

The High Lord grazes the ridge of his nail over the peak of your breast, and you gasp, body recoiling into his chest, scent wrapping more firmly around you, infiltrating your lungs, short circuiting your mind as your lids flutter. Your breaths shallow, mindlessly trying to seek out the source of your pain as pleasure pools between your legs, his fingers summoning heat. Weakly, your hand fumbles across the bedding, blindly searching for an end to the soreness. Nails scratch at his knuckles unintentionally, but his hips buck nonetheless, biting gently at your neck. Clumsily you grip at his wrist, muscles weak from his ministrations as you try to pull him away, breathing heavily as you paw at his hand, desperate to find reprieve. Fingers slide between his, curling over into the top of his palm, weakly trying to pry him from your breasts.

“Please…” you pant, hips rolling down onto his fingers, tingling pleasure becoming more and more difficult to ignore, grabbing for your attention as slick drips across your thighs, Rhys creating a sloppy mess with his hand, palm wet as the heel glides across your clit. “Rhys…” you pant, fingers trembling, unable to release him, hands entwined but at least you’re being spared from his pain-soaked touch.

He inhales softly, nosing at your throat, groaning as he feels you tighten once around his fingers, and he knows you’re close, that once again he’s going to pull yet another piece from you, like separating raw cotton, the pieces weakly grasping onto one another, as strong as water-soaked paper beneath his hold. “Ready?” He asks, and you gasp, trying to shake your head, nails digging into his skin as you press his hand to your sternum, as if in doing so you have some sort of control over what he does to you. “No,” you cry softly, “not again. Please, I can’t. Please no.”

A rough groan grazes your skin, and goosebumps rise in its wake. “You don’t want to come?” He murmurs, his breathing pattern shifting, hand pulling away from yours with despairing ease, sliding back up to your throat, hand gripping your jaw and the tingling pleasure begins its countdown, the slow ticking until you shatter, unable to do anything save for squeeze your eyes shut, hands scrambling to try and pull away from him, writhing weakly in his dominating hold. “Rhys…Rhys, please…no…!”

He roughly tips your jaw, flinching beneath his touch, gasping from shock before he puts his mouth over yours, tongue dipping in as he angles you correctly. A shocked whimper spills into his mouth that he drinks down hungrily, caught off guard as his body shifts, sliding slightly out from beneath you while his fingers continue working you. Fear pounds through your body, heightening the acuteness of pleasure and you writhe in his hold, struggling violently but somehow it only results in your legs spreading wider, hips bucking fervently onto his hand, grinding against his palm as you moan into his mouth, jaw opening wider as he takes you for his own.

The piercing edge of of terror sharpens your pleasure, and you cry out into his mouth, sounds the High Lord steals away, satiating himself as teeth nip at your lips, hand squeezing your throat, reminding you of his dominion over your body, his touch demanding utter submission as you flutter wildly around his fingers, hips stuttering against his palm. The pleasure explodes across your skin, body arcing off him, grinding against him in a way you know you’ll hate yourself for once the buzzing sensations subside.

He laughs lowly once your high fades, fingers pressing back in fully as he detaches himself from your mouth, partially atop your body as he gazes down at you intently, attention pinning you to the pallet as he curls his digits gently but firmly, taking in the rise and fall of your chest; the way your breath hitches; your brows curve, eyes gleaming with wetness he’s anxious to have spill over. “Such a whore,” he whispers onto your mouth, more tenderly than he’s ever spoken to you. His hand finally retracts, dragging up over your clit, puffy and sore from attention, and you feel yourself fracture a little more from the humiliation.

“You’re disgusting,” you breathe out, forcing venom into your tone, his hellish mouth parting into a feline curve. “You’re the one who just came on my fingers,” he says with silky smoothness, “should I remind you?” Before you can protest he’s rolled on top of you, keeping you pinned to the pallet as his fingers again slide between your lips. You struggle weakly, but he presses his hips against your own, keeping you incapacitated with frustrating ease, feeling the evidence of his own arousal poking obtrusively into your lower body.

“Can you taste that?” He laughs, watching as you struggle pointlessly, his hunger becoming harder and harder to resist, grinding against the alluring wetness of your heat. “Taste how much you liked it? See how wet you got?” He groans as he glides through the slick between your thighs, coating himself, bucking his hips as his fingers press down on your tongue. “Gods I’m going to fuck you so well,” he says lowly, mirth clear as he taunts you. “You’re practically dripping onto your bed, getting it all wet and dirty,” he muses breathlessly. “Such a whore.”

Your hands grip his wrist, both of them desperately trying to pull him out of your mouth, making his lips curve with amusement, enjoying your struggle. “Don’t be so ungrateful,” he drawls, pushing his fingers in further until you gag, throat constricting around his digits as tears gather at the edge of your lashes. He curses lowly, colour tinting his tan skin as saliva gleams on your lips, spilling over like how your cunt does when he stuffs you full, dripping down your thighs and creating a slippery mess. “So pretty,” he murmurs breathlessly, rubbing his fingers over your tongue, feeling it’s velvety heat. Your breath catches at the murmured praise, so rarely compensated for the harsh treatment he forces on you.

His own breathing patterns have turned irregular, arousal piercing his mind as his gaze remains locked with your own, and that starving hunger returns in full force, eyes rolling briefly as he settles on what he’s going to use you for tonight.

The High Lord pulls away from you, allowing you not even a second’s reprieve before his hands are pushing your legs apart, raising them up as he rolls his hips forward, gliding through your wetness. “So wet,” he groans, fingers biting into the soft flesh of your thighs, slick somehow having made its way even there, and he can’t bring himself to wait any longer.

You try to brace yourself for the intrusion, a mix of disgust and hatred building in your stomach with equal parts arousal, knowing from experience how sickeningly right it feels, how he fills you up so completely you’re rendered temporarily mute. “Don’t,” you beg, heart pounding as he lines himself up, tip pressing to the soft indentation between your legs. You close your eyes briefly, hands still weakly trying to push him off you despite his overwhelming strength. “You can’t do this,” you cry out, knowing how sensitive you are, how he’ll no doubt take full advantage of that and not in a pleasant way.

“Shut up,” he grits out, violet flicking sharply as it pierces into you. “Don’t you ever get tired of protesting so much? Whining and complaining at every moment no matter how well I treat you. Such a selfish brat.” He practically spits the words, and humiliation burns through your lower body, opening your mouth to spew back vitriol but he pushes in, hips flushing tight to your own, feeling the bump he’s put into your stomach. He groans lowly, panting as he grinds against your cunt, abdomen rubbing over your clit and your toes curl, back arching at the fullness, having his teeth flash in a vindictive grin.

“You fucking like this, don’t you?” He accuses, pushing your thighs wider, raising your hips, allowing him to settle deeper, feeling as he presses further, stealing the breath from your lungs. Lips part as you try to form words but you’re unable to do anything, grasping for thoughts but it’s as though he’s shoved everything out of you. “Such a liar,” he groans out, hands leaving your thighs to settle further up your body, caging you in as he draws his hips back. “Is the reluctance part of your act? Pretending to resist so you can feel how helpless you are? How easy it is to shove you down? Fuck I could take you whenever, wherever I liked.”

You tighten around him as he sinks back in, pressing flush to your heat, adding a roll to his hips so he rubs against those spots he’d abused with his fingers, having you gasp sharply, nipples peaking as your back arches. “You’re a monster,” you pant, unable to focus on his hazy figure as pleasure sizzles in the pit of your stomach. “You’re…you…I hate you.”

“Say that again,” he breathes, picking up the pace, hitting those overstimulated spots and your press your lips together, trying to keep your cries to yourself. “I fucking hate you,” you hiss out, feeling him twitch inside you, and you realise the protests are turning him on more. Disgust crawls across your skin, realising you’ve been complicit in his pleasure. But the words have already started, and you’re suddenly unable to control it as your thoughts begin spilling from your lips. “I hate you so fucking much,” you cry, “so fucking much. I hate you. I hate you so much. You’re a fucking psycho, sadistic bastard. I hope you fucking burn.”

His hips stutter, panting as he pulls away from your body, fingers biting into your hips as he begins slamming in, making you bump up the pallet as he fucks you into the bed. “Gods you’re so perfect,” he growls, brows furrowed; pupils fully dilated with hunger. “And you’re all mine. All mine, every hour of every day. Do you like that? I can do this whenever I want. Make you scream. Scream until your throat is raw and your legs are shaking.” His hips buck roughly and you bite back a cry at the sharp pleasure, the overwhelming fullness. “I’m going to fuck you so full,” he groans, and for some sick reason, arousal blossoms across your abdomen, a fresh wave of wetness slicking your thighs, squelching noises spilling from your cunt as he drives into you with a conviction that’s both terrifying and obsessive.

“Yes…!” The word is out before you can censor it, and he laughs darkly, pouncing on the lapse greedily. “I knew it,” he growls, “fucking liar. You like this. Can you feel that?” Before you can get a handle on your thoughts again, a moan flutters from your tongue, hands grappling wildly for purchase, seeking stability as his hips drive roughly into you, bucking with a fervour that has you arching from the bedding, scratching at his forearms. His hand splays across your abdomen and you cry out as he presses down, the orgasm building much faster, pleasure ringing in your ears as a heat like sunlight blossoms across your body.

“Rhys,” you moan, brows pulled tight and it’s as though that one cry urges him on, pounding harder, pace increasing as magic flares, the ghostly outline of wings emerging at his back. His hand grips your jaw, tilting your head so you’re forced to look at him as he pounds into you. “Gods you’re such a slut. You should see how you’re taking me, practically swallowing me whole, such a greedy cunt, isn’t that right?” He pulls back, landing a hard smack to your cheek before gripping your throat again, dragging you up from the pallet as your thighs are forced apart from how he’s pressing against you. “I’m going to fuck you so full you won’t be able to move without my cum spilling out. So full you won’t be able to think straight, that you’re going to be able to feel how much is inside you, tucked away where it belongs.”

Your mouth parts in a moan, hands being forced to lock over his shoulders to relieve the pressure on your spine. “Would you like that? Do you like that idea? Knowing you’ll have part of me so deep inside of you at all times? Gods you’re going to swell up from how full I’m going to fuck you.” His words splash across your skin and pleasure spills between your legs, heat coiling in on itself before breaking across your skin, fluttering around him.

Rhys watches as you come, body writhing as he keeps you trapped on your pallet, cock driving in repeatedly as the overwhelming pleasure has your eyes rolling back, muscles seizing, butterflies fluttering as you jerk from the force of the orgasm. “Please, Rhys stop! I— I can’t—” you gasp, body going taut from the sheer intensity. “What was that?” He pants, lips curving as he fucks you through it. “You want more? Want me to fuck you until you can’t think? What a good girl.”

In one movement he’s flipped you over, roughly handling your body so you’re forced onto your hands and knees, arms shaking, mouth parting to scream for him to stop but then he’s slamming in again, picking up the pace from before but now you’re so much more sensitive and tears spill down your cheeks, utterly undone. A soundless scream parts your lips, his hands putting bruises into your hips as he slams you back onto his cock, slick spilling down your thighs as overstimulation fries your brain.

“Fuck that’s it. Finally learning to take what I give you. You like that?” Your eyes blink wildly as the pleasure becomes too much, tears dripping down your cheeks. “Say it,” he snarls, “come on, admit how fucking high I can take you. How you love the way I fuck you.” You babble messily, words fluttering nonsensically, crying, screaming, panting as saliva spills from your open mouth, unable to shut it and your lungs can’t take the intensity. “I-I love it,” you cry, “please, R-Rhys…!”

His hips buck sharply against a spot, breath hitching from your obedience and it triggers something in you, pleasure unlatching as you gush around him. Rhys curses, low and viciously as you squirt, arms shaking as his magic presses up against your abdomen, the pressure making you dumb. “So fucking perfect,” he moans, “say it. Say you’re my perfect little toy, tell me how much you fucking love what I do to you.” His hand drops to your thigh and you scream when he cocks your leg, the angle turning you into a sloppy mess, arms giving out as your face buries into the bedding, back arching deliciously as you soak him.

Rhys snarls, power wrapping around your hips to keep slamming you back on him as his fist tangles in your hair, pulling you up. “Say it,” he snarls, “fucking say it.”

“I love it!” You scream, voice breaking as your thighs are spread wider, his hips bucking to target the spots and terror burns across your skin as overstimulation turns into fresh pleasure. “I’m— I’m your perfect…your perfect little toy!” You scream again, another orgasm bursting across your skin and your world is spotted through with white dots, body trembling as his hips smack against the backs of your thighs, feeling at last as he twitches once before releasing deep inside of you.

Even in your daze you can feel how it’s more than usual, much more. Feel how he fills you up, spilling out, stomach inflating with how much he’s pumping into you. He releases your hair, returning to grip your hips, pounding into your puffy, swollen cunt, allowing you to flop forward into the bedding, head down ass up as the shockwaves of his thrusts pass through you, dumb moans babbling softly from your mouth, muffled by the soft but damp fur of your bed.

His thrusts turn sloppy, hips grinding against you as his breathing stutters, cum spurting from his tip, continuing to fill you up over and over, panting heavily, sweat glistening on tan skin. “Fuck,” he pants breathlessly, “you still there?” He asks, pulling back a little.

A muffled whimper floats up to him, and he sighs contentedly, gaze dropping to the smooth curve of your spine. He gathers his energy, body curving over yours as he roughly pushes his hips back to your own, tight to flushed skin and you cry out weakly. His hand presses across your abdomen, the other curving round your throat, pulling you from the bedding. Tears have dampened your gleaming cheeks, lips swollen from having teeth pulled over them and he grinds against you to spark a reaction. You sob weakly, body trembling beneath his as the pleasure continues to overwhelm you.

Rhysand pulls back, broad palm splaying across the slope of your spine, keeping you pinned down as he rolls his hips firmly to yours, making sure his release is being kept nice and deep. “Want another one?” He asks lowly, and you shudder, sobbing softly with exhaustion, shaking your head numbly, tears long since dampened the fur beneath you. “No?” He smiles faintly, reaching between your legs, “can’t take it?”

He swipes across your clit, and you can’t even muster the energy to jolt away, forced to take the sharp beats of pleasure as he gently oscillates his finger. You babble mindlessly, and his lips curve, pleasure gleaming in his gaze. “I thought you liked it,” he taunts quietly, “thought you loved being a toy for my cock. Isn’t that what you told me?”

Shame crawls across your skin and you try to weakly squirm away, but it just has him touching more spots inside of you, a fresh wave of tears saturating the bedding. He laughs lowly, his arm banding beneath your front to pull you up against his chest. “Want me to stop?” He taunts softly, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I won’t know if you don’t tell me.”

You scramble for words, struggling to function. “I don’t… Can’t,” you manage weakly, body trembling from pleasure.

He drops a kiss to your hair, and relief has your muscles utterly giving out, turning soft and pliable beneath his touch.

“Good girl,” he soothes, hips dragging back from your dripping cunt, pulling out until it’s just his tip inside.

“But when have I ever listened to you?” He muses, pushing you back into the pallet, muffling your cries.

Silencing your pleas.

Aftercare fic

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#dark!rhysand x reader #dark!rhysand #dark!rhysand smut #desk pet #dividers made by cafekitsune

[miss-bridget]

Gender Gap. Part 2

I laid the latex maid outfits out for my new toy to look at. I had taken the liberty to include contrasting cages too. He gurgled a protest around the ball gag and I slapped him hard across the face. He whimpered a little bit and I grabbed his shrunken balls roughly….

“Now, you little streak of rat’s piss. This is what will be happening. I’m going to give you a choice. It will be the only one you’ll get while you’re in my company. Pick a dress and a cage. We’re going to film a little video and it will be uploaded to every account you have…..LinkedIn, Facebook, tinder…..Grindr. I say that, because you might get a lot of new followers who like sissy cunts.”

He cried in pain as I then spitefully twisted his nipples. When he stopped snivelling he grunted and nodded his head toward the black dress. It was predictable, but at least the cage would be nice and pink for my little whore. In truth, he would be wearing both at various points, but we had to start somewhere. I locked the cage on his disgusting cock and tugged it once in place. Another gagged yelp escaped his mouth and another slap followed.

I stood him up and forced the dress on his body. The glossy latex clung to him, with the skirt flitting out nicely at the bottom. I spun him around and inserted a matching pink anal plug up his ass. His eyes widened as the toy invaded his rectum and he slumped in resignation. I was disappointed, I was expecting this ‘alpha’ prick to put up a fight…..but he was cowed and humiliated already.

I produced the black stockings and put them on his legs….one of them was laddered….enhancing his look of a used slut. The high heels were too small, but I wedged his trotters in them and dragged him to his feet. He tottered unsteadily, more groans of pain emanating from his drooling lips.

“There. We’re almost done. But you look far too ugly and I want a pretty maid, don’t I? So, I think we need to see if I can perform a miracle and turn you into something even I might want to fuck.”

I grabbed the make up bag and started to apply the rouge and the lipstick. His lips were perfectly wrapped around the ball gag, making it easier to paint him into a tart. Next, the garish blue eye shadow, mascara and false lashes.

I stood back and checked my work so far. “My goodness, you really are a wanton sissy aren’t you? If I check your cage I wonder if you like it so far.”

Of course he had a mirror in his office and I shunted him over to look. He struggled and tried to curse at me….so I stuck my hand up his ass and started to manoeuvre the plug around. He shrieked like a bitch and guess what? The dreary little cock was straining in its prison. I chuckled and brought him back to the chair to continue his makeover. The auburn wig wasn’t quite his colour, but he looked presentable from behind at least. The setting up of the camera took time, but at last we were ready as I got him on all fours….crawling around his office and shaking his plugged ass for me. I lifted the skirt and the base of the squat plug was firmly on show, along with the cock cage dangling uselessly in front.

The leather slave collar was buckled on and I led him around the office a few times. When I bent him over his desk, i made sure his cuffs were tight. He saw me take the strapon and step into it….i did it slowly and deliberately just to give him time to beg….but it wasn’t going to change my mind.

The camera was set and so was I……the plug would be removed and there would be no doubt, the little slag’s mascara would be running down his face….

TBC

#cd #glam girl #caught sissy #bound #punishment #gender gap

[queenshelby]

MINI SERIES: THE SLAVE

PAIRING: TOMMY SHELBY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL LOSS OF VIRGINITY, CAPTURED READER, SLAVE READER, TOMMY GETTING OFF ON PAIN

NOTE: AGAIN THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I FELT A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE PUBLISHING IT...VERY DARK!

Just as he had promised, later that night and when you were already fast asleep following some serious exhaustion after what had transpired, Tommy entered your room at around one o'clock.

The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated his figure as he approached the bed where you laid sprawled out.

Without bothering to wake you, he took off his briefs and gave his cock a few strokes, causing it to stand tall and erect, before he gently climbed on to the bed.

He nestled his knees on either side of your waist, positioning himself directly above you. With one arm supporting his weight, he reached down to push your panties to the side, exposing your rather sore and swollen mound. 

The sensation startled you and you woke up with a jolt, gasping at the unexpected sensation of Tommy aligning his member with your torn hole.

"I am tired," you whined, squirming underneath him but your efforts proved futile as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them beside your head.

"Sshh," he hushed you, his warm breath caressing your ear. "You know that you are mine now, Love. And I'm going to use you however I please," Tommy said smugly, his cock throbbing against your sensitive entrance before, with one forceful thrust, he plunged himself into you.

You gasped, your body arching involuntarily in response to the renewed intrusion.

"Just relax," he growled, grinding himself against you, his erection burrowing deeper and deeper into your aching hole. "It's just going to be a quick fuck and then you can go back to sleep, eh?" Tommy whispered into your ear, his voice laced with lust.

"You know that my needs come first, don't you?" He said, his tone matter-of-factly, as he adjusted his position above you. The heat of his body radiated onto you, and you could smell the musky scent of his arousal.

"Don't worry, I am almost done," he murmured, his fingers digging into your hips as he began to thrust into you again. 

He thrust harder, his cock driving deeper into you with each movement.

"You feel so good," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "My beautiful little whore." Tommy's voice was husky, full of lust as he admired the way your body trembled beneath him. 

"You know that I can't resist your sweet little pussy, Love," he rasped, pulling out and thrusting back into you roughly. "All I can think about is getting my cock deeper inside you." he hummed, relishing the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of your body until, finally, with a loud groan, he exploded inside you, filling you up with his seed.

You gasped, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him. This was your life now, serving a man who saw you as nothing more than a sex object.

As he climbed off of you, you could feel his cum trickling down your leg and onto the bedsheets. The smell of sex lingered in the air, and all you wanted to do was clean up and fall back asleep.

Despite exhaustion, you listened to his heavy footsteps recede down the hallway, the sound of them fading away until they vanished completely before you made your way to the bathroom. 

Washing yourself off in the shower, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions: shame, disgust, anger, fear, and resignation. Yet, you also discovered a newfound longing for release from this torment, a desperate wish for freedom from him.

"Maybe if I try to escape," you thought to yourself, "maybe if I run far enough away, he won't find me." But deep down, you knew the truth: he had power, influence, and connections. Escaping would be impossible. At least for now.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby au #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction

[starkeyscvmsock]

Wrong window - Rafe Cameron

About: When you sneak into Tannyhill, hoping to enter through the grounded Sarah’s room, you accidentally sneak into the very, very wrong room.

MDNI, 18+!

"You've got to be fucking kidding me".

Once both of my feet were in through the window and planted firmly on the carpet, I looked up to see a face I was not expecting to see in a room I was not expecting to be in. The thing is, I had only ever visited Sarah Cameron through the front door, so clearly I had made a slight miscalculation on the layout of the house and snuck through the window of the wrong, very very wrong, room.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Rafe snarled as he jumped up from his bed, a disgusted look on his face at the sight of me. I racked my brain for an excuse, a lie, anything; but spending too much time with JJ had caused me to lose too many brain cells over time and I came up with nothing. So instead, I decided to go with the plain and simple truth.

"I'm here to see Sarah, I thought this was her window" I straightened my back and raised my shoulders, trying to show the man before me that I wasn't afraid of him when, in reality, I had never been alone with him and I knew very well what he was capable of; Pope's black eye could attest to how much I hated Rafe Cameron.

"Oh yeah?" Rafe said as he inched towards me, the sole reason I didn't mirror his steps and move back was because the window pane was already digging into my back. I couldn't go any further. "Yes really, so get out of my way and let me go" I spat as I tried my hardest to use the element of surprise and barge past him as quick as I could, but I was only one step away from him before I felt his large hand engulf my wrist.

"Not so fast" he chuckled, his dimple appearing on his cheek that I had forgotten was even there. "Sarah's on lockdown. Not allowed to leave the house, not allowed to see anyone and most certainly not allowed to even breathe the same air as you pogues" his cocky smirk soon turned to a scowl at the mention of a pogue.

"But you already knew that. Didn't you? Or I'm sure that you'd know our doorbell works just fine" with each word said, a step was taken until I was backed into the wall and Rafe was inches away from my face, his blue eyes almost seeming to shimmer at this proximity.

The grip on my wrist had tightened, Rafe's gold ring digging into my flesh, sure to leave a mark. I tried to pull my hand away but he only tightened his hold. "Fine" I spat, growing angrier as the pain in my wrist increased. "I knew that I wasn't allowed to come. Happy? Now get your grubby paw off me and let me go!".

Rafe only stared down at me, his breathing shallow and a look of resignation in his eyes. An emotion I had never seen on any Cameron's face before. "What?" I spat, trying to pull my wrist free again; this time his grip loosened, causing the pain to ease but his hand still stayed wrapped around my wrist.

"You're real pretty when you're angry, you know that?" he whispered, his free hand coming up to my face and moving a stray curl that had fallen onto my face during my struggle behind my ear. Was this really Rafe Cameron I was looking at right now? The cold, egotistical kook king that beat Pope with a golf stick and constantly harassed me and my friends? He was calling me... pretty?

My heart beat began to pick up and I could feel my face growing warmer as I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "You can't deny it, can you?" He smirked. "What?" I whispered, fearing that if I spoke louder I would remind us both that he was him and I was me, and he was currently holding the side of my face as he pressed me up against his bedroom wall.

"This. I know you feel it too. The spark, the tension. You know it'd be good" his gaze roamed my face, dropping to my heaving breasts for a second so short I was sure I imagined it before returning to my eyes. "What would be?" I asked softly, my free hand playing with the hem of my shorts, a habit I had realised I did when I was nervous. Rafe Cameron had made me feel many things before but nervous wasn't one of them.

Rafe's smirk grew before the hand that was holding the side of my face lowered to the back of my neck as he pulled my closer to him, his lips now by my ear and the hand on my wrist now rubbing it softly. "If I fucked you into a pretty little mess".

My breath hitched at his words, a warm flutter erupting low in my belly at his deep voice and warm breath coasting over my ear and side of my neck. "Rafe" I breathed out, not knowing what more to say. "Hmm" he said absently as he drew back, his eyes dropping to my lips and his thumb going to the bottom lip.

As though my brain wasn't working, my lips slowly parted, before Rafe slowly, oh so slowly made it's way inch by inch into my warm mouth before it was fully in, resting on my wet tongue. His lips parted as he let out a low breath; his eyes had now grown a darker shade and the heat in them is what caused me to close my lips around his thumb before slowly swirling my tongue around it, all while looking into his eyes that spoke words his brain was too scrambled to verbalise.

"Fuck" he bit out before yanking his thumb from my mouth and replacing it with his tongue as he attacked my mouth with his own. I blamed the fact that my mouth opened for him and one of my hands made it's way into the back of his hair while the other clutched the bottom of his grey North face jumper on the initial shock of his mouth on mine.

His lips were surprisingly sweet and so, so soft. His hips shifted, aligning them with the bottom of my stomach and my mind whirled as I felt the hard, tented evidence that I wasn't the only one feeling the affect of our dirty kiss. "Rafe" I gasped as he bought his face to my neck, licking and biting at the spot below my ear that caused a spark to shoot low in my belly, travelling straight to my core that was starting to throb more and more.

I was shocked at myself for the emptiness I felt when Rafe pulled his face away from my neck; one of his hands yanking my hair back in a closed fist while the other dropped to my ass, clutching it as if it was his life line. Who knew Rafe Cameron was an ass man. His nose rubbed against mine as we both panted heavily, his gaze resting on my lips.

"Tell me you want this. You want this don't you baby? You need it, I can see it in those pretty eyes of yours" he breathed out as he rolled his hips into mine, causing my eyes to flutter closed at the feeling of him rubbing against my clothed core.

I nodded quickly, trying to pull him to my mouth again by his jumper but he pulled back, his grip tightening in my hair until it was painful. I ignored the fact that the pain shot to my core, increasing the throbbing there. "Give me your words, I know you've got plenty of them" he chuckled deeply. "Yes. Yes Rafe, now please. Just please" I hated the begging in my voice but if he didn't touch me where I needed him soon I would go crazy.

"Please what?". I huffed out an angry breath at his words, why was he still talking? "Please fuck me Rafe" I breathed out. My words bought out the beast in him, as soon as they had fallen from my lips he lifted my legs around his waist and smashed his lips back onto mine.

Our kiss was messy and dirty, our tongues sweeping against each other, his teeth biting into the flesh of my lip every now and then before he would bite down hard, earning a small moan to fall from me. These sounds would only spur him on, his hips rolling torturously against mine as he held me against the wall before finally he had enough of feeling me with barriers between us.

Rafe's warm hand made it's way beneath my top, leaving goosebumps in it's wake before he gripped my breast hard and unforgiving. My breasts weren't large but I had never been so happy with that fact as it fit into his hand perfectly. He gripped the whole thing before focusing on my nipple, tugging the bud until it was hard and aching. I thanked any higher powers that existed that I had chosen not to wear a bra today.

"I wanna take this off, let me take it off baby. You want it off don't you? I need it off" Rafe spoke into my neck as he licked and sucked on it while tugging at the hem of my top. I lifted my arms as an invitation, afraid that if I was to speak it would be a load of gibberish; I was aware that Rafe Cameron's mouth on me had made me a simple being. Rafe breathed a sigh of relief as he ripped my shirt from my body, the sudden cold of the room causing my nipples to harden even more which I didn't think was possible.

"And these, they need to come off. I wanna touch you. Need to touch you, you want me to touch you right, baby? I'll make you feel real good" I suppose I had made him a simple being too as he rambled into my neck while playing with the button off my shorts. I nodded rapidly, that was all the signal he needed to pop the button open while I yanked the zipper down, both working together to rid me off my shorts, leaving me only in my thong.

"God, look at you. So perfect. So pretty" Rafe whispered to himself as he lifted his face from my neck only long enough for his eyes to rover over my body, switching from each breast before settling on the spot between my legs. I could feel that I had soaked through my panties, probably leaving a wet mark.

Rafe had stayed true to his word, he had made me a pretty little mess and he wasn't even inside me yet.

Rafe's lifted two fingers in front of my mouth, I parted my lips and welcomed them into my mouth as I slathered them up with my spit, his face strained as he watched with furrowed eyebrows and gritted teeth. Then, he took them out of my mouth with a pop and trailed them so, so slowly down my torso, between my breasts and down my stomach.

He left a trail of my spit as his fingers went lower and lower; it dried almost instantly, leaving a cold feeling on the strip of cold spit going downwards. Rafe's hand that was clutching my ass to help hold me around his waist tightened, his body going stiff and his gaze dropping to the action as his hands finally pulled my panties to the side.

I flushed with embarrassment and Rafe let out a low curse as we both watched my slick wetness leave a string from my pussy to the thong that he was slowly pulling to the side; I looked up at him as he watched, seeming as if he was in a trance.

Finally, he left the strip of my thong at the side near my hip and ran his two spit covered fingers along my soaking folds. "Shit" I breathed out as I clutched at the hair on the back of his head, my other hand reaching to my breast and tweaking my nipples.

"So wet. Soaked. Told you I'd make you feel good didn't I baby? This is all me. I'm making you feel so good. No one else could make you a mess like this. Only me" Rafe punctuated his ramble with his fingers as he plunged them inside me to the hilt, the filthy sound of my wetness punching the air. "Ohh, fuck Rafe. Fuck" I grit out as my eyes clenched shut, my grip on his jumper tightening as my head fell to his shoulder.

Warmth coursed through me as he pumped his finger in and out of me at an agonisingly slow pace, his thumb now rubbing back and forth on my throbbing clit. "Such a mess. Such a pretty mess" Rafe whispered to himself before he lowered his head to my nipple, licking a circle around it before pulling it between his teeth, wringing a gasp from me.

"Stop, Rafe enough" I gasped. I realized what I had said when Rafe pulled away in alarm, his hands leaving my body and his face alert. He made a move to put me down but I clung to him like a koala on  a tree, rushing to alleviate my mistake. "No, Rafe, Not like that. I just, I need you. So bad. I need you in me, inside me" I rushed out as rolled my hips against him. I know he wanted me too. Needed me. I could feel the evidence between his thighs and however ridiculously skilled he was with his fingers, it wasn't enough.

"You're fucking crazy" he chuckled as he turned around before laying me on his large bed, the soft duvet soothing against my hot skin. Rafe's eyes didn't leave mine as he stood before me at the bottom of his bed while he lifted his jumper slowly over his head, revealing inch by inch his beautiful bronzed skin. Once the jumper was off and thrown in the corner, I allowed my gaze to rove over his torso.

His abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat and his chest was flushed, rising up and down as he breathed steadily. My breath hitched in my throat as my gaze dropped to his long fingers, slowly and torturously pulling his belt from the buckles in his jeans, the action slow and controlled as he teased me without even touching me.

My breathing picked up as Rafe rid himself of his jeans and boxers, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his large angry cock before he lowered himself on top of me. "You still hate me?" he smirked as he ran his lips up the side of my neck. "You still classist?" I asked with a teasing smile on my face. It soon dropped as Rafe placed my legs around his hips and slid his hard cock that was dripping with precum through my folds and nudging my clit, wringing a moan from me.

"Always" he smirked as he rolled his hips, taking in my furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks. "Then yeah," I panted, "I still hate you". "Good. Because you're really not gonna like me after I fuck you like a slut" my retort to his words cut off as he slammed himself into me with no warning, his length reaching a depth within me I didn't even know could be reached. 

"Rafe" I yelped as I dug my nails into his shoulders, no doubt leaving marks as I tried to find purchase against his brutal thrusts. "Shhh, my dad's office is just down the hall" he whispered. His thrusts slowed down until they came to a halt, leaving me confused as he lifted his head from the crook of my neck to look me in the eyes.

"You don't want the man who murdered your best friend's father to hear how much of a slut you are, do you?" he smirked, his words hit me like a slap to my face as anger coursed through me. I shoved at his shoulders as he chuckled down at me.

"You piece of shit!" I snapped as I untangled myself from him and tried to leave the bed. I didn't get far as Rafe kept me pinned under him, flipping me over onto my stomach and holding my hands behind my back with one of his while the other clutched the back of my neck, pushing the side of my face into his pillows.

"Get off me! I hate you" I seethed as I squirmed beneath him. A gasp escaped my lips as he pushed back inside of me, thrusting slow but hard, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head at the warmth in the pit of my stomach and the throbbing in my clit.

"You really want me to? You want to feel empty? You want to have to get yourself off when you get home? Want to be left throbbing like a little slut? Why don't you let me take care of you, baby. You know I can, I'll make you feel so good" he groaned as I clenched around him at his words. With guilt and remorse, I answered by thrusting my hips back into him, causing the pace of his thrusts to pick up.

"That's my girl" he chuckled as he thrust into me harder and faster, his panting in my ear turning me on more, making me wetter. "It worked didn't it?" he asked as he lifted my hips up so that I was on my knees with my face in the pillows and him on his knees behind me.

His thrust harder and harder as my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Angry sex is so much better than normal sex" he leant down and whispered in my ear with a smirk on his face. I grew more angry as I realised what he did. "You di-" my words cut off as his hand landed roughly on my ass, leaving a delicious sting in it's wake.

"What was that princess?" I answered with a moan as his hand wrapped around to toy with my clit. He flipped me over again onto my back, his hand coming up to grip me by my throat while the other held my hip in a punishing grip to anchor his punishing thrusts. "That feel good?" he asked.

"Mmm" I mumbled, my eyes closed and bottom lip between my teeth. His thrusts stopped completely and my eyes flung open in alarm. "Look at me while I'm fucking you, you little slut" he snapped as his grip on my throat tightened, causing little white spots to appear in  my vision. "Please" I breathed out. "Please, I'm sorry" my voice came out as a whine due to his grip on my throat.

"Look at you" he smirked as he began thrusting his hips again, even harder than before if that was possible. I gripped at his hair, probably to the point that he was in pain but he didn't seem to care as he looked down to where we were one, watching his cock slip in and out of my soaking folds with each thrust.

"If only your little boyfriends could see how much of a needy little whore you are" he chuckled to himself. "But they won't, will they?" his gaze retuned to mine. I shook my head the best I could with his grip on my throat, not trusting myself to speak. "Only me. You're mine now, my little slut" he grit out. His eyebrows pulled together and his lips parted as he began to pant heavily.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, getting ready to snap, and I know Rafe was close too. "Rafe, I- I think I'm going to-" I couldn't finish my sentence as he gripped my tit and lowered his head to the other, taking it in his mouth.

"God, me too. Come for me, baby. Come on, let go" he said as he landed one particularly brutal thrust, causing me to see not stars but the whole galaxy as I felt his cum leak inside of me, only intensifying my crushing orgasm as I clenched around him, milking him and myself for all that we had.

Rafe lifted his head and looked at me, sweat pooling on his forehead and his hair hanging in front of his beautiful blue eyes as he looked down at me. "We're doing that again, right?" he grinned down at me as he wiped the tear that had fallen from my eye at some point with the pad of his thumb.

I realised one thing as I felt him begin to harden again inside me. Rafe Cameron fucked how he fought; rough, unfair, unforgiving and he always, always got what he wanted.

#rafe cameron #rafe smut #smut #imagine #outer banks #rafe obx

[vampyrsm]

'as above, so below' demon king bakugou katsuki x reader

synopsis: what more could the king of hell want than having ultimate control over everyone who descends into his domain? well, there is just one thing. he wants the silly little girl who thought demons were a joke.

warnings: summoning, mentions of animal hearts (it's brief), female reader, monsterfucking, dubcon to be safe, mind breaking(?) reader is a virgin, rough sex, shibari, size difference, corruption kink, blood, marking, hair pulling, squirting, multiple creampies.

word count: 6174.

The sting against your flesh was nothing, it didn't surmount the bubbling fear in your stomach at the current situation you were in. The rope that was snug around your thighs and calves felt like it was fire rubbing against you whenever you tried to shift, just to ease up the pain enough to let you a moment of reprise in this newfound Hell.

You were utterly, and entirely fucked.

But you asked for this, didn't you?

You're the reason the man stood at the end of the bed filled with expensive silks was here. You just hadn't thought that this was quite how it would go, your friends had said it wasn't even meant to work—so just how did you manage to summon the most powerful of demons? The Demon King no less.

It was meant to be a harmless evening, something your friends had passed off to you as a 'joke'. They said that it wasn't real, that demons don't exist but it was all part of the thrill that something might just crawl out of the darkness in the dead of night. All of them had said nothing had ever happened to them, that the names were too hard to pronounce anyway or that they didn't even do the ritual right.

So just why did you do everything down to the letter? Why did you go out of your way to get your hands on a pig heart, they didn't even sell them in local stores. You shouldn't have even done it in the first place, it was a disgusting practice you realised when you had laid it all out in front of you. The lit candles, the blood that had been smeared on your clean wooden floors in what must be some sort of ancient language because it didn't look like anything but symbols and runes to you. Then the heart sat in the dish, thankfully you didn't have to do much to it other than just offering it up, but still having it sitting there made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

This was ridiculous. You thought as you painted the same symbols and runes along your thighs, down your arms and finally directly on top of your stomach. The blood was slimy and cold, and the fucking smell was rancid. You were going to bitch about this to your friends the second you got this shit off of you, they were clearly messing with you—why else would they get a person to rub blood on their skin?

Of course, nothing happened straight away, you hadn't expected it to but that bit of disappointment in the back of your mind was loud. You at least expected a tiny bit of a scare, maybe something would touch your hair or whisper in your ear but nothing. You spent the next 45 minutes cleaning up your apartment, running the washcloth over your body to rid yourself of the now sticky blood.

And you were content with the fact nothing happened, maybe it was for the better than you somehow fucked up the ritual. You shuddered at the thought of if it wasn't all a lie, just what could be lurking in the deep dark? You didn't want to find out, and so you resigned yourself to just shutting off for the night and heading to bed.

That was the plan of course as you opened your bedroom door, eyes on your phone screen until it felt like you walked directly into a thick wall of heat. Had you left the heating on? No, you didn't need it on today so just what—

You froze on the spot, eyes locked onto the man who was standing directly in front of your wardrobe's full body mirror. If you could even call him a man, that is. He had thick black wings that were more akin to that of a bat's wings, and he was fucking big. You could tell from the way his head was slightly ducked down to stop himself from hitting the ceiling that he was well over 7 feet, at the minimum. The longer you stared, the more details you started to take in.

With only just the small bedside table lamp giving him an amber glow, you could still see that his skin was a glistening tanned colour and he was beyond ripped. His muscles were tensed, large shoulders hunched and biceps bulging as he heaved in heavy strong breaths through his nose. Finally, you looked up at his face, he wasn't what you were expecting when you'd describe a demon. You always envisioned them as creepy little things that had disfigured features or an extra eye, or something. But this man, demon, was the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on.

Jaw sharper than any knife as he tensed it, his lips were turned down in a deep frown with his upper lip threatening to rise up like a snarling dog the longer you stared him down like a deer in headlights. A flick of something to the side of his head had you instantly looking at his ears, they were long and pointed but covered in fur, like cow ears. Heavy hoops adorned them both and jingled when they flicked again in what must be annoyance, and finally, you settled on the thick black horns that were most definitely bovine-like, large and pointed upwards, even those had metal rings dangling from them.

The second you met his eyes, your stomach dipped and twisted like it would on a rollercoaster. The red was unnatural, shining brighter than any fire you had seen, carrying the same heat as the sun when it's high in the sky on a summer afternoon. His lip finally curled up in a snarl, a low rumbling growl that bubbled in his throat and perfectly displayed the sharp fangs in his mouth.

"Done fucking starin'?" his voice was like ash, smokey and raspy yet deep it had a subtle shiver sliding up your spine. It matched his appearance perfectly, like every aspect of him had been hand-sculpted by the Gods. Perhaps he was. "Of course, the one person who manages to do the ritual right is too scared to fuckin' speak."

You blink finally, wiping the sweat from the palms of your hands against your sweatpants before you speak. "You're real?" is all your brain can ask in the current situation, and the way his eyebrows dipped in a frown and lip covering up his fangs once again tells you it was a stupid question. "I mean, you didn't show up for anyone else."

"Because they were all fuckin' idiots and didn't do it right," he finally shifts, and it feels like gravity moves with him like you're being drawn into his eyes the longer he holds eye contact with you. "You, however, little innocent you did everything right. Didn't you?" and suddenly he's in your space, the heat coming off of him in waves is unbearable and suffocating but you can't find the energy to move away from him.

"Why is that? What exactly did you wish to gain from summoning someone like me?" this close you can see his own eyes scanning over your face, along your hair and down the front of your body. His eyes linger on the exact places you had recently painted in blood as if he can still somehow see it.

"Speak." A command. A snarling one at that, it shakes you from the spot and has you blinking away the tears you hadn't even realised had started to clump against your eyelashes.

"I-I," you start, throat parched from the searing heat of the demonic figure who's now fully leering over you, head tilted down so the shadows shroud his face. "I don't know, I didn't think anything would happen!"

His eyebrow arches a little, whilst his head tilts as if he's fully surveying you. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?" his tone is demeaning, lecturing you as if you were being scolded by an adult who had caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you wrote my name right along here..." his hand raises, a clawed finger dragging along your stomach before it dips down to press lightly against your womb.

The searing heat of his hand disappears just as quickly as it appeared, his hands dropping to his sides as he straightens up to his entire height—the best he can in this room, anyway. "I'll ask just one more time, what did you want from me?" you want to look away from his eyes, but they were like glowing coals against the shadows of his features.

Your silence clearly isn't what he wants to hear as he breathes in a deep breath through his nose, eyes rolling in annoyance before he abruptly turns away from you, you notice something whipping and lashing behind him as he walks, had he always had a tail? You realise he's heading back towards the mirror he had once come from. Is that how he got in here in the first place? You had heard of rumours about it being a bad thing to have mirrors angled towards your bed, a gateway or something.

But just as he reaches the mirror, he freezes on the spot when something sweet hits his nose. It's a rare kind of sweetness, not one he'd often get to indulge in because it usually bared heavy consequences on his behalf if he were to let his greed take over. But something is cementing him to the spot, and his ears flicker again causing the small hoops to jingle with the slight movement.

He's glancing over his shoulder briefly to see the muscles in your thighs tensing, squeezing as if to alleviate something and then the smell hits him again.

Oh.

So he was right in assuming you'd summoned him for that exact reason, he figures you just didn't bank on him being the King of Demons. What a shame, he grins as he turns back on his heel to look at you fully.

...And that's just how you ended up in a room that didn't quite look like yours anymore, the walls were draped in expensive yet old-looking fabrics, dark reds and blacks that seemed to ebb and flow despite there being no breeze. The soft bed beneath you was much bigger than any bed you had ever owned, was this all a hallucination? It sure didn't feel like one when a clawed finger hooked against the black rope that had been tied around your thighs pinning your calves to your thighs.

He was clearly impressed by his own handiwork with the way he kept running his fingers along it, putting a small amount of pressure against your thighs to make you hiss out at the aching pain in your calves but he knew it wasn't hurting you, not entirely. Not when he had you kneeling before him in said bound position, completely bare and dripping for him.

He looks even more sinful in the new light of the room, your lamps replaced by candles, the flickering orange somehow making his eyes brighter and that much more dangerous. His skin is shining, you realise, the sweat sticking to his bare chest and the column of his throat. You're completely fixated on every part of him, allowing him to pull you into this fantasy when he finally leans forward and pinches at your nipples that were already sore and red from his earlier ministrations.

In truth, Katsuki hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you. You smelled so pure, so ripe and ready for the picking and it had been centuries since he was allowed someone who hadn't been tainted in one way or another. He wanted to devour you whole, suck your very essence out of your body until you were quivering and shrieking for him to stop, and then begging for him to take you finally. He wants to lock you away in his own dungeon for the rest of eternity.

"Ready to admit just how fuckin' desperate you are yet?" he taunts, sharp claw stroking down along your sternum and then slowly back up until he hooks his index finger under your chin, forcing your head back to meet his gaze. "C'mon.. it won't be so bad if you just admit to it, tell me how bad you want it."

You do want to, you want to cave to him so badly but this game of cat and mouse has the throb between your legs intensifying. You know you're needy just from the way you clench around nothing when he spreads your legs just a little more to put the strain on your bound form but you can see the impressive bulge in his tight black slacks, the thick outline telling you just how badly he wants you in return.

Clearly, however, he is much stronger in will than you as you moan, breathy and downright needy when his fingers slip back down your body and rest between your legs. He was hardly touching you but the heat that seemed to move around him like an aura felt the same as if his hands were on you directly, and he could tell you were struggling to hold yourself in place. Stopping yourself from lowering yourself despite the ropes digging into your skin and grinding your wet heat against his palm.

He had you right where he needed you, on the precipice ready to fall directly into his clutches. So with a delicate tap of his index finger against your clit, your entire body jolted forward at the sudden stimulation. You figured it might've been a one-time tap, to mess with you, to make you admit all your sins to him but it was as if he were in a trance himself. His fingers move against your slick warmth, long fingers dipping in slightly before dragging back up to your clit to draw lazy but firm circles against it.

The low groan that came from his throat rumbled up through his chest, "Just say it, and I'll give it all to you."

You couldn't do this anymore, you couldn't hold out in hopes that he'd get bored. You figured he's a man with an infinite amount of time and just as much patience when it comes to getting what he wants.

"Please," you whisper, you're worried he might've not heard you when he remains silent. So you tilt your head up to look at him, certain you look every bit the mess he's made of you but you can see his nostrils are flared, eyes honed in on your lips. Waiting. "I can't wait anymore, please, I need you."

His eyes flick up to your own, and that feeling in your stomach is back as it flips and drops dramatically. Yet this time you don't feel the fear crawling up your spine telling you to run when he starts to crowd into your space, large wings behind his back spreading wide so all you could focus on was him. A large hand splays itself against your chest, carefully forcing you onto your back with your bound legs forced apart to expose yourself to the warmth that is Katsuki Bakugou as he lowers himself between your legs.

"Again," he growls, fangs peeking from beneath his lip as he tries to suppress a snarl. You figure it's not out of anger but rather frustration that he's still having to hold back.

His lips are just above your own, the closest you had been to him all night and it's intoxicating. Having a man so beautiful, a demon so powerful, asking you to tell him just how badly you want him. "Please," it's firmer this time, a little louder than a whisper. "Katsuki, I need you–" is all you manage to say.

The animalistic growl that rips through him shakes the four-post bed you're on, the way his given name rolls off of your tongue is what adds fuel to the fire in his gut. His lips are on yours in an instant, large canines pinching hard against your bottom lip until he draws blood. The kiss is messy, blood and spit mixing as he practically tries to devour you through the kiss alone, a large hand around your jaw to hold you in place whilst he got his fill.

When he parted from your lips you had to take in gasping breaths, with him this close it was like you were on fire beneath him which did nothing to help the aching need between your legs that was pressed snuggly against the heavy outline of his cock in his slacks, certainly leaving a mess behind on the pristine material. Suddenly he leans back on his knees, the space in front of you cold and empty.

Something in you makes you whimper at the loss, and his ears twitch at the sound, twisting and turning until they were pointed in your direction to take in your sounds. "What's wrong? You that much of a slut you can't wait a few more seconds?" and he grins when the same whine bubbles in your throat. His hands slip down to the belt of his slacks, the metal of the belt buckle clicking catching your attention immediately.

He tugs on the belt once and it slides out smoothly, the leather of the belt hitting the floor before he's unzipping his slacks to slip them down and off to reveal the black boxers that were tight on his thighs, and even tighter around the cock you could now see had a thick vein running on the underside of it, a darker wet spot near the waistband from the pre he'd been leaking all evening in anticipation of finally having you.

Despite your better judgement, you reach out a hand and half expect him to grab at it and burn you for daring to touch him out of turn but instead he lets your fingers brush against it. From the way you drag your fingers downwards a little too hard, he can tell you've never been this close to a dick before and that little fact has his tail lashing out viciously behind him in excitement.

"Can I?" your question catches him off-guard, his eyes look up at your own and for the first time you see something more than the hard glare, instead he looks rather... dazed, softened molten lava red eyes that take in the doe-eyed look you're giving him. You're so painfully innocent it has his cock twitching, he wants to ruin you.

"Be my guest," he offers, hands moving away from the waistband of his boxers as you, albeit awkwardly, pull down his boxers from the position you're in. The weight of his cock causes it to fall out once freed from its confines, and it has you clenching around absolutely nothing. He's much bigger than a human, you know that much for sure, the tip is big and looks irritated from how red it is—was he just as needy as you were?

His eyes were locked onto your own the entire time, drinking in the way your pupils dilated fully when you saw the very thing you had summoned him there for. He's about to take back the reigns when he feels a soft hand wrap around his length, it doesn't quite fit the entire way around and that has a pearl of precum leaking from the tip. Finally, he looks down, watching how you delicately stroke him as if he's going to somehow end up hurt if you're just a little rougher with him.

He thinks it's adorable.

But his patience has been worn thin all night long, he didn't make you crumble for no good reason. He wants to be buried deep inside of you as soon as possible, he needs to be or he thinks he might just go insane. His fingers curl under your chin, tilting you upwards to meet your gaze before he's ducking in once again. Your body is forced once again to succumb to his weight as he climbs back over you, big thighs spreading wide to force yours apart so he can nestle himself right where he needs to be.

A large hand meanders its way between the two of you, gripping at the thickness of his cock before he glides it along your slit eliciting a full body shiver in him at the copious amount of slick that had accumulated so quickly. His lips parted from yours just in time to hear the shaky intake of breath, and his eyes finally break away from the string of slick that was connecting the two of you.

He can see the fear in your eyes, something he hadn't expected in someone who would summon a demon. Unless—

"You're a virgin?" he asks in hardly a whisper, almost like he's confused by the idea of someone that pure trying to lose their virginity to a creature made up of pure sin. It's given this whole game a brand new thrill, a new prize that can be captured. The essence of a virgin is hard to come by nowadays.

You can't find it within yourself to answer him verbally, be it from embarrassment or fear of rejection that you're not going to be quite as easy as he first thought so instead you nod to his question. And his ears lower just that little bit more, eyes darting all over your face to take in your expression.

Purity.

"I'll be gentle," he says, it's a half-lie mostly but you don't need to know that. You chew on the bottom of your lip, causing more blood to spill from the previous two puncture holes he had left there from his kiss and he can't stop the automatic response to lean in, his tongue dragging along the plumpness of your bottom before he presses his lips against yours, small pecks slowly growing more heated with each passing moment until he was crowding over you, his weight settling a little more against your hips whilst his hand continued to drag the tip of his weeping cock up and down your slit until he angled it just so.

Your lips parted from his, his own opening in a silent gasp at the way you're squeezing the life out of him already and he had hardly pushed the tip in. You're panting into his mouth, and he can hear the start of a pained whine starting to build in the back of your throat the more he continues to bully his way through your walls. "Relax f'r me, please–" he pleads, unsure if he can withstand anymore of the clenching. "I need you to relax."

It's impossible to relax you think, you had never had sex before and yet you were practically being split in half by the biggest man you had ever seen. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears rolling from the corner of your eyes and you can feel the burning of his gaze on your face when you continue to whine, whimpering in pain at the shallow thrusts he's giving. You feel full already but you know he's hardly made any progress on ensuring he was buried to the hilt deep inside of you. "P-Please," you murmur, what were you asking for exactly? You had no idea, but Katsuki seemed to have some sort of idea as his hand drifted between the two of you again and the heat of his fingertips against your clit had your hips bucking upwards.

He hisses, teeth gritted at the pulse of tightness around only part of his cock when he taps a finger against your clit before running smooth yet tight circles on it. But it seems to be working, your legs relax as much as they can in their binding and your walls relax just enough for him to fluidly roll his hips back and forth until he's seated deep against you. His cock is twitching against your walls, bumping into the spot that has your stomach tensing and thighs trying to clamp closed around his trimmed waist.

You half expected him to start as soon as he was buried inside of you, but when you reopen your eyes you're met with his own being tightly closed. His body is hunched over your own, two large forearms caging either side of your head and his head is ducked down just enough so the hardness of his horns is touching the top of your head. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was in pain from the scrunch of his nose and the furrow of his eyebrows.

Unsure if you were genuinely hurting him just as much as he was hurting you, you decide to try and comfort him in some sort of way. Can demons even be comforted? They didn't seem the type who needed comfort in any way but nonetheless, you slid your hands up along his neck until you cupped his jaw, the muscles jumping each time he tensed and untensed his jaw, teeth grinding.

His eyes fluttered open when your thumbs rolled over his cheekbones, but instead of that deep red you had been staring into the entire evening you were met with black. Even the white of his eyes was no more, but you could tell he was staring directly back at you, just something in your gut telling you so.

"Don't look at me like that," his voice a thunderous growl, involuntarily making you clench around him and his nose screwed up once again.

But you weren't looking at him like anything, were you? "I don't— like what?"

"Like I'm the one who hung the moon, it's makin' it so much harder for me to hold back." You hadn't realised you were looking at him in such a way, what did that even look like? But the thought of him holding back after all you had endured, all the teasing and the unfulfilled promises of something more, didn't sit right with you.

"Then don't," you reply automatically, his eyebrows raise up in surprise and despite looking every part of the soul-consuming demon that he was, you think he looks somewhat softer as he observes you. His ears twitch a little, angled towards you, he almost looked cute. "Don't hold back."

Katsuki gives an experimental roll of his hips, the drag of his cock against your gummy walls has both of you moaning. His with more timbre than your own before it tapered off into a gravel-like groan when he ruts his hips forward, the entirety of your body bouncing off of his hips. He leaned down further, his hands locking together on the top of your head to make sure you stayed in place for what was to come.

"You asked for it, sweetheart."

The pace he picks is instantly fast and extremely hard. The clap of his thighs against the back of yours is loud but the sound of just how wet you are for him is louder, it has your cheeks heating and the tips of your ears burning in embarrassment because he must know just how desperate you are for him, creaming all over his length until a delicate little white ring is starting to form at the base of his cock. Katsuki finds it all that more exciting, just how much can he make you do?

Suddenly he leans back up onto his knees, large clawed hands grabbing at your knees and spreading you impossibly wider whilst his eyes are glued to the length of his cock disappearing and reappearing from the sticky warmth of your cunt. It has him feral, the way there's a clear yet thick sheen to his cock from your shared arousal and the way it strings every time he pulls back. Can't help himself when one of his hands slides down along your inner thigh until his thumb presses hard against your clit, tight and firm patterns being drawn against the nub until he can feel your walls fluttering around him.

"Let go," he moans when you clench the second he speaks, his pace not faltering now that he has your walls stretched to his size but he can feel the telltale signs of his cock twitching, his balls aching with the need to release. "Cum for me."

The command has you vaulting off of the cliff you had been teetering on for the entire evening, your stomach tensing as your entire body locked up under his ministrations. The way the tip of his cock drags deep inside of you consistently has your brain unable to think clearly, the prolonged orgasm effectively melting away every thought you had ever had until all you could think about was him.

Katsuki watched the way your lips remained parted from your loud, long moans until it fell silent, just the sound of your panting breaths each time his hips slapped against your own forcing the breath out of your body. He couldn't hold back anymore, his upper lip curled into a nasty snarl and his eyes shot down to look at the way his cock twitched hard when he saw just how much you were gushing around him.

The first wave of his cum was molten hot, it felt like it was burning—no, it was more like branding—your walls, and it didn't stop as he continued to roll his hips albeit a little more sloppy in comparison to his previous rhythm, his claws were dug into the fat of your thighs, holding you perfectly still as he continued to pour more and more of his seed deep inside of you.

Slowly he pulled out, the hefty weight of his cock slapping against his thigh. His hands travelled down the back of your thighs, thumbs pulling apart your swollen lips just in time to see you clench around nothing and force his cum out of you and down between your asscheeks until it pooled on the silk sheets beneath you. "Oh fuck, you might just be my undoing," he whispers more to himself, but the words have you yearning for more.

You want more of him, all of him.

In your post-orgasm state, you fail to notice when his claws grab at the ropes on your legs and seamlessly slice through the thick bindings to free your legs. He's quick to manhandle you further up the bed, his frame hitting the sheets this time before he's hauling you up on top of him on all fours. It's a big stretch for your thighs still with how much bigger he is than you, his cock twitches when another thick glop of cum drips from your pussy and directly onto the length of his cock.

"We're not stopping now," he breathes, gripping himself to angle the tip of his cock back against your entrance and this time the way he slides into you is with no struggle at all, your body naturally melting down into his own as you sink all the way down until you're flush with his hips. "You're mine, gotta make sure everyone knows it too."

He gives a rough thrust of his hips, forcing you to fall forward on his chest and crush your chest against his own, your face is inches away from his and you see the vicious smile slowly take over his features. He looks devilish. "You got that?" he says whilst stroking his hands down along the expanse of your body, long fingers grasping at the meat of your ass.

"All. Mine." the growl of his voice makes it hard to hear him properly, but you don't have much time to focus on anything else when his legs prop up on the bed and he's fucking into you with reckless abandon.

The squelching is much louder, and the slap of his balls hitting against the curve of your ass from the force behind his thrusts deafening but you can't focus on anything but the whines coming from his throat. He sounds wounded, panting and heavy breathing between his moans each and every single time you clench around him.

You're so focused on him that the feeling of your second orgasm of the evening hits you a little too late, your stomach tightening unbelievably so but the pressure in your pelvis is nothing like you had felt before. You scrambled to try and get your hands under you, to try and push yourself up and off of him before anything bad happened but Katsuki had other plans. His arms locked around your body, forearms pinned against your spine and hands latched onto your shoulders whilst his hips and thighs did all the work.

"Give it t'me," he moans against your cheek, your moans feeding directly into his ear. "Give yourself to me, sweetheart, c'mon."

You couldn't deny him even if you wanted to, he must shift his hips just slightly before thrusting up impossibly hard so he hits directly onto the pressure point that had been building inside of you. His moans grow louder, rumbling in his chest as he keeps trying to fight against the pressure of you clenching around him until he's inevitably forced out of your pussy when clear liquid gushes from you in harsh streams.

You're twitching atop of him, your mouth having latched onto his shoulder at some point to stop the scream that wanted to rip through your throat as you squirted all over his length. You're mortified, had you just—

Katsuki, however, is elated. He got you to squirt all over his cock, and he wastes no time realigning himself to thrust himself back inside of your hole that's still twitching and overcoming the shock of your previous orgasm. You moan against his skin, teeth threatening to break through the skin. "So fucking good, did so well f'r me." he mumbles against your hair, a deep kiss being pressed against you that almost seems too intimate for the situation you're both in.

His pace is a little slower this time, still aggressively hard but he seems to be revelling in the way you're still occasionally gushing around him. With a pop of your mouth, you finally release his shoulder and meet his gaze, his eyes are back to that shade of red that draws you in. He doesn't stop you when you push against his chest this time, planting your hands firmly against his broad muscled pecs, drawing absentminded patterns over the various scars that littered his chest.

You raise yourself up, gently dropping yourself back down and it has Katsuki pressing the back of his head against the pillows, eyes fluttering. You do it again, and again until the pace is starting to pick back up and his hands are clawed against your hips, marking your body once again as his. He looks beautiful beneath you like this, blonde hair ruffled and sweat dripping from his browline, his entire body glistening with it and large black wings splayed out wide in all their glory. It felt invigorating to have a deity such as himself beneath you, quivering each time your walls fluttered and whining when you rolled your hips delicately back and forth.

When Katsuki reopened his eyes, he raises a hand up to your cheek and guides you back down towards his face. That same hand cups the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair until he had a firm grip and that was the only warning you got before he yanked hard on your hair, forcing your head to the side to expose the expanse of your neck. His mouth opened wide before latching himself onto you, large fangs digging firmly into the skin until he knew he was drawing blood.

His cock twitched again deep inside of you, that sudden warmth coating your insides as you rolled your hips back and forth involuntarily to try and ease the pain you were feeling in your neck, your nails dug into his chest leaving behind thick red welts. His groan vibrated against your throat, and he remained like that until his balls were drawn tight and a sense of completion finally settled deep into his bones.

Deattaching from your throat he relaxed back into the bed, blood dripping from his lips. His body curled naturally around your own, large arms holding your smaller frame to his own and shifting slightly to ensure he remained buried deep inside of you. It felt oddly intimate once again, but something in your stomach told you it was right. He had said you were his, had he marked you as such?

Part of you hoped so, you think you could live with this for the rest of eternity if it meant you were his.

"Sleep," comes his raspy voice, his fingers now stroking along the back of your head where he had pulled a little too harshly on your hair. "We're not done here yet."

#tw dubcon #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha x you #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo oneshot #bakugo katsuki imagine #bnha x fem!reader #bnha oneshots #mha smut #bnha x self insert #bnha smut

[munsons-melody]

sick day

summary: eddie cuts class to come help you get over your cold

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

cw: none + established relationship

word count: 1.5 k

a/n: i thought this was a v cute concept

masterslist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

—

you were undeniably, undoubtedly sick.

what started out as a sniffle from the day before turned into a full-blown-out nasty cold. you could only blame the weather for the illness.

it was a gloomy tuesday morning, and upon hearing your groggy voice and horrific cough in the morning, your mother sent you straight back to bed and called the school to tell them you weren't coming in.

you ended up falling back asleep for a handful of hours, trying to avoid the torture of being awake with a headache, a sore throat, and uncontrollable coughing. however you were soon woken up by your phone ringing.

"hello?" you sleepily croaked out, your voice hoarse from the amount of coughing you had succumbed to

"hey y/n, why aren't you in class?" you heard eddie ask, the sounds of people talking behind him. he was using the school phone to call you.

"i'm dying," you told him, sniffling a little bit. "what?" he asked in confusion

"i got the worst cold ever and i'm dying" you said again, feeling a cough coming on

"oh shit, how are you feeling?" he asked and you rolled your eyes

"actually I'm doing great thanks," you responded sarcastically

"sorry, that was a stupid question" he said. you heard the bell ring in the background and some shuffling noises

"i gotta go babe but i love you, feel better" he told you, making you smile. "i love you too" you said as you heard a click and the dial tone ring out.

you coughed a couple more times, causing your throat to burn with pain. you groggily pushed yourself up from your laying position and sat on the edge of your bed

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and your looks had mirrored how you felt; like shit

your nose was bright pink from the countless times you had to blow your nose, cheeks were flushed, hair was in the messiest braid ever, your dark circles engulfed your eyes from the lack of sleep you got the previous night. you were wearing a giant shirt with garfield on it, some baggy pj pants, and you knew if anyone were to see how you did now, they would be disgusted

you went and used the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to search for something to eat that wouldn't make you more nauseous but failed to do so 

the house was quiet, the only thing you could really hear was the birds chirping and cars passing outside. you stood there, enjoying the silence, sipping on your water

you headed back to your room in attempts to fall asleep again, but after tossing and turning for a good 10 minutes, you sat up with a huff

just as you resigned yourself to the rest of the day filled with solitude and sniffles, a knock echoed through the house. startled, you slowly made your way to the front door, your stuffy nose adding an extra layer of annoyance to your condition.

you looked through the peephole to see eddie standing there with a large brown bag in hand. he looked so good wearing his black sabbath t shirt and ripped black jeans, his white reeboks giving a pop of white.

you slowly opened the door, only leaving a little bit of it open to avoid him from fully seeing you. it’s not like you always wore tons of makeup, just enough to boost your confidence, and eddie had seen you completely without makeup only a handful of times, but you didn’t want him to see the horrific sight which was you with the worst cold

"eddie, what are you doing here?" you asked with a raspy voice

eddie flashed his trademark grin, holding up the bag in his hand. "since you're sick, i thought i could be of some assistance. i brought you some homemade chicken soup. wayne swears on it" he said sweetly

"thank you baby that's so sweet," you said with a smile, before furrowing your brows

“wait where did you get homemade chicken soup?” you asked and he blinked

“oh well technically it’s campbells… but it works just the same, i swear, scouts honor” he smiled, lifting three fingers

he started to walk in but you shut the door more

"i don't want to get you sick" you told him and he shook his head 

"i have the immune system of an ostrich!" he declared and you let out a giggle which turned into a nasty cough 

"oh baby," he said sympathetically, standing up the next stair to the doorway 

"c'mon let me take care of you please, just until your parents get home?" he asked with the sweetest tone

"eds i have to be honest, i look absolutely disgusting right now, i don't want you seeing me like this" your voice faded into a whisper

"y/n, i can promise you that nothing you do or have will make me less attracted to you, i love you in every conceivable way now can i please just come in and heat your soup up for you?” he begged, giving you puppy dog eyes

you slowly opened the door, revealing your sick state to eddie and he smiled, walking in to your house and immediately giving you a kiss on the forehead

“jesus you’re burning up” he said taken aback and you rolled your eyes

“no shit sherlock” you huffed as he walked into your kitchen

“well i guess the first symptom of this cold is hate” he joked with a smile and you shook your head at him, shutting the door

“so how come you were able to come here in the middle of the school day?” you questioned, leaning against the kitchen counter as he poured your soup from the can into a pot

“i just went to the nurses and told them i was feeling sick and apparently there’s something going around the school so they believed me and sent me home” eddie shrugged, turning up the heat on the stove

“so that’s what i got” you said, crossing your arms

“maybe” eddie said, eyes staying on the soup to make sure it didn’t boil over

“wait what did you mean you have the immune system of an ostrich?” you asked, realizing what he said earlier

“yeah they have one of the best immune systems, it’s a fact” he said nonchalantly and you laughed

“and how do you know what?” you asked as he turned off the stove

“well when i was growing up, wayne had the day shift and after school i’d go to the library to read before he’d come and pick me up, i learned it from some nature book” eddie smiled, and handed you the steaming hot bowl of soup

“thank you” you said, your stomach suddenly making countless noises and rumbling, since you hadn’t ate anything all day

you sat at your kitchen table and ate your soup, and eddie munched on a couple saltines you had from your cupboard

“yeah and luckily i had a test i didn’t study for at all for 7th period so i get more time to study” eddie said and you nodded, not really caring in that moment if you secretly knew you had to help him study because you were so hungry, the soup vanishing in front of you

“mhm” you mutter out, finishing the rest of the soup and chugging some water

“feel better?” eddie asked and you nodded. honestly you did. now that your stomach had shut up and power of chicken noddle soup was finally coming to fruition, you felt the tiredness loom back over you

you yawned and stretched your arms out and eddie could see the sudden drop in the little bit of energy you had earlier

“now back to bed young lady” he said in a not so stern voice and you listened, getting up with your bowl in hand and placing it in the sink

eddie followed you into your room and shut the door. you put some of the tissues that were discarded on the floor and put them in the trash, and then instantly cuddled into your sheets, pulling them around you

eddie took off his jacket and shoes, walking over to the other side of the bed

“ed’s what are you doing? i told you i don’t want you to get sick” you said, and he just smiled, taking off his pants and then crawling into the empty space next to you

“i don’t care sweetheart, all i care about is you feeling better and i know that you’ll sleep better with me here, it’s a fact” he said, pulling you in close

“oh really? did you learn that in your nature book as well?” you asked with a slight laugh and he kissed your head

“no, i just know you that well” he said, letting you lean your head against him

you felt the sleepiness wash over you like a wave on a beach, and you just let your eyes close, feeling eddie’s chest move against your back

you were a little jealous he could breathe through his nose without the annoyance of it being stuffy but you didn’t care because he was right, you do sleep better with him near

fin.

#stranger things #eddie munson #munsons-melody #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n

[leighsartworks216]

So I'm transcribing a scene, as one does, and the player video I'm watching chose an option I've never seen before and my heart is BREAKING.

So this is the scene where Tav catches Astarion trying to feed from them while they sleep. When Astarion uses the tadpole to show Tav how hungry he is - to garter sympathy - Tav can choose to probe deeper into his mind.

"[Illithid] [Wisdom] Push into his mind, searching for the truth."

Well, when you choose this (and succeed), Astarion is confused. He says "I - what's this? What's happening?" He used the tadpole on you, but he didn't expect it to be flipped around on him.

Then, the Narrator says: "A shiver runs across your mind... You feel sated. His mind opens up, revealing cracked and quivering memories."

While you probe his mind, his face is stern. Pinched eyebrows and deep frown.

But a second later when the Narrator says "At their heart, you see dark eyes, commanding you to feed." his face looks like this:

He's sad. Sorrowful. Scared, even. At the briefest mention of his master, even so vaguely, he reacts so strongly. Not only that, at the end of the sentence when Narrator says "commanding you to feed" his face becomes this:

Eyes closed, resigned to what's happened. Still deeply sorrowful, but not so scared.

The Narrator continues: "You open your mouth and bite down. Not into a tender neck, but into the twisting body of a rat - the only thing your master lets you eat."

His face is very sad when she says "into the twisting body of a rat", but right after - again at the mention of Cazador - it becomes this:

Scrunched up but not like before. This isn't a serious expression as he defends his need for blood, it's painful. Disgusted.

Anyway, I just noticed this and my heart was breaking so I needed to break yours too lol. The video I got these screenshots from and transcribed the dialogue from can be found here: Link

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #transcript #long post #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers

[alwaysonf1]

oopsy?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: Canadian NHL team shit talking. Middle fingers.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

As much as Iman doesn’t mind and is one hundred percent on board for all the filming and hanging out with the drivers, she's happy that it’s not an every day of the week and every class kind of thing. There’s a level of mental capacity it takes to deal with the people around her while doing this that she can’t maintain every day.

But today isn’t one of those days. Today they’re at a track and that’s one of her favorite places to be no matter where it is.

NOLA Motorsports Park hasn’t seen any real IndyCar action since twenty fifteen, but it’s still a place that some teams use when they want to test and practice in a place where it wouldn’t really be expected. Though there were times they did open the public stuff and in about a month there would be a McLaren sponsored karting tournament for kids already in and new to the world of motorsport. 

Iman looks forward to that day because she enjoys helping the kids with their races and even more so helping them understand how their karts work. She was even going to be in charge of a more informational segment that she knows is going to be boring as hell, but hopefully insightful for kids and their parents.

The sport can be hard enough getting into it and she wanted to make it easier for them. Even if she felt a little like a fraud speaking as her path hasn’t really been from the ground up like half the kids there.

But at the moment what she’s most happy about is that she isn’t the one making the drive to the track. The place is over an hour from her apartment and though it rarely feels that long it’s nice to have someone else to do it. 

Though she could do without being sandwiched between her brother and her new frenemy, Lance.

“It’s a Canadian sport. And they are original, how could you dislike them? They have more championships than Seattle has in years playing. I mean I like them too, but come on, Iman.”

The entire rant is funny and it’s the same argument they’ve had twice now after he found out that she enjoys hockey. They’ve talked a little about football too, but the moment she enacted her duty of humbling a Canadian it’s been a back and forth of him being flustered over her dislike of almost all the Canadian teams in the NHL. Most of it being due to her disdain for certain players - most of which for petty reasons and some because they’re assholes.

She reaches out and pats his leg, giving him a soft and kind look that’s only playfully condescending.

“How about we pick this back up when a Canadian team breaks their thirty year streak of not winning the Stanley Cup. Something multiple players in Seattle have done in that time period.”

“You went there?”

“I went there.”

Lance huffs and puffs. He tries to say something, but every time his mouth opens he closes it again. If I didn’t notice the way he wanted to laugh and the resignation in his expression I would fear I’d genuinely offended him, but I know I hadn’t. Poor man knew it was the truth, even if it was a painful one.

“It’s their year.”

“Who’s year?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. One of them.”

“Leafs?”

At that he makes a face that can only be read as disgust.

“You’re mad at me and you don’t even like them.”

“I’m obligated.”

“I get it.”

Because she does. That conditionally and sometimes fake patriotism got the best of her too.

She opens her mouth to bring them back to common ground by shitting on Vegas, but for the tenth time there’s a pull at some strands of hair at the back of her head. Eyes narrowed she turns her head to look at her brother. Who doesn’t even bother to look away or remove his hand.

“Why?”

Lewis shrugs.

Rolling her eyes she reaches up and pulls on one of his braids, earning a swat to her hand.

“Don’t pull my hair,” he says.

“Then don’t pull mine.”

And he does it again.

Like the child she sometimes is, she goes to retaliate, but the van rolls to a stop and she settles for glaring at him.

“Ha.”

“Oh, shut up.”

With the last word she follows the others out of the van, “accidentally” kicking Lewis on her way out. By the time he’s out and able to get her back she’s already standing at the front of everyone barely suppressing a gleeful smile. He joins the group and flips her off in a covert way and she does the same.

Not them doing that on the low mattered since the cameras weren’t focused on the group yet. Every camera person is huddled together talking amongst themselves.

“Is that a McLaren indycar?” Alex asks.

“Sure is.”

Daniel raises his hand, a broad smile on his face. “Are we going to get in it?” 

“Maybe.”

That seems to shock everyone, but there is some giddiness to it. One would think that a group of men who raced for a living and who would be back to doing it in about a week wouldn’t be so eager to get into a car. But then again that’s the driving force of why some of them do it for a living.

Before anyone can say anything else Anne walks up and the camera surrounds them. Anne gestures to Iman and she takes her cue.

Iman hitches her thumb backward. “This is where I do a lot of my internship work during the school year. Though it’s not often used for pro-racing, it is used for testing. And that’s what McLaren’s Indycar team is doing here for the next month or so. And today you’ll be helping me with work. 

“All of you know there is some level of secrecy going on with this stuff, but everything you see and hear today will be things that are known to the public or that no one cares about anyone else knowing. Plus, this testing is for this past season's car, not the coming one.

“We’re going to get a tour of the place and then get to work. Any questions before we get things going?”

The group is quiet and after a few seconds Iman nods and then turns. She leads the group up to the pit lane where McLaren mechanics await them. There are greetings and then another explanation of what they’re doing there. Then they’re led off on a tour of the spaces. They field questions from the drivers and to round out the tour they end up back in front of where they started.

“Okay, so we’re trying to figure out what went wrong with this engine during one of the races this season. We had to replace the whole thing and it didn’t become a priority to take it apart and find out, so that’s what we’re doing now to see if there’s anything we need to change in the future,” the head mechanic says.

He looks around at everyone in the way one does when ensuring that they have a listening audience.

“Okay, so you’ll see what Iman and our team do to figure that out. I know this could be more exciting, but we decided this is a good glimpse to really show what she does and in a way we’re comfortable showing. You’ll pair off and our people will explain what’s going on. Feel free to ask questions and point out any oddities you see, we need all the eyes on this that we can get. It’s all preliminary, so they won’t be at it for long and then that’s where the fun begins.”

He shares a mischievous smile with Iman and by the looks of everyone it makes them a bit unsettled.

“What does that mean?” Lance asks.

Iman shrugs. “You’ll see. Now go get changed.”

They do what she says even though she could see the questions they want to ask. 

About ten minutes later everyone returns in coveralls. Iman is already dressed in the clothes she works in so she’s sitting on a rolling chair when they return.

“Ready?” she asks.

They nod.

“Okay, I’m not going to treat this like a class room so everyone in groups of two and then you’ll be with one of us.”

Much like all Iman’s years of school, all the drivers freeze. Then they all scramble toward their chosen person. Despite the small group - or because of how small it was - some end up losing out. It takes all of her not to burst into laughter when Carlos goes for Charles and Lewis snatches up the Monégasque. Which means Carlos is with Daniel. The man pouts while Daniel grins ear to ear, but you could tell it was more playful. 

Lewis and Charles laugh at their antics and Iman knows that those two groups are going to be a chaotic mess.

And because she’s so busy holding back giggles at their nonsense, she misses the chance to grab a group that doesn’t contain her brother. She knows that part of this whole thing is wanting them to be together, but she would be a bad little sister if she didn’t act indignant about it.

“I guess I’m stuck with you too,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Lewis grins. “Yes, you are. You’ll love it. Won’t she Charles?”

Both men turn their heads to face each other and they share similar grins. Then they turn to her and she sees devious intentions in their eyes. Iman feels like they’re plotting against her and she doesn’t like that.

“Of course. We are a delight,” Charles says.

Now she really knows they’re going to be a handful. Though she hopes putting them to work will help.

“Sure, you will be. How about using that delightfulness to help me disassemble this.”

She gestures to the problem engine. She’s to take care of that one while the others look at two others. Both of them cling to their little creep show and then finally nod and help her disassemble the thing. Lewis is a little competent in it because she always talked about it and forced him to learn, but Charles is a little surprising to her. But it’s nice to only have to give a little guidance and get to focus on her work.

Of course she gets so into it that she forgets that she should probably talk to them a little after Charles clears his throat. By the sounds of it he’d been trying to get her attention for a little while.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“You work for McLaren?” he asks.

“This year.”

“Only this year? They seem very okay with this for such a short time.”

“Once before, but for a shorter amount of time then. I’ve done about four internships, two of them with them. One in Nascar and another for a different IndyCar team.”

“Wow, that’s a lot. How do you find the time?”

“I don’t. Just chaos twenty-four seven.” She laughs. “But to be fair, the first IndyCar was when I was a senior in high school. They were doing a program for kids of that age to get them interested and I was a test subject. Since my mother worked for them it was more likely they’d get better feedback versus the kids who might be scared saying anything could get them blacklisted.”

“Really?”

Iman smiles. “Really. There weren’t many issues and nothing major though, so it was fine.”

“No, I mean in high school?”

“Yup. It’s what happens when you tell the people in your life what you want to do for a living and they have the connections. The moment my mom knew I was serious she had me applying everywhere and brought me in to shadow her and anyone else she could have agree. I was annoying, but good enough that they didn’t tell her to stop.”

Talking with Charles is easy and the conversation is one that helps her focus on the task of disassembling the unnecessarily greasy mess that is her side of the engine. Something is peaceful about it too. Nice even.

When she looks up and past Charles to her brother Iman sees a weird expression on Lewis' face. It’s one he wears when he knows something or thinks he knows something and a weird smile. She wants to question it, but thinks better of it. Knowing Lewis it will irritate her and there is a part of her brain that is sure she knows what that look is for and she refuses to address it.

Not stepping into that shit show. Nope.

“Okay, what happened?” Lewis asks.

“It stopped the car completely and then when we went to check it there was a small-ish fire.”

“Excuse me?”

“I was the furthest from the fire, Lew.”

There’s some grumbling, but his expression and body language mellows out. Not much though. For some reason Iman looks to Charles for support, but instead she’s on the receiving end of a look that gives off mild anger and a silver of disappointment. Of course she doesn’t know Charles well enough for her to fully understand his expressions, but she’s familiar with the reactions of siblings.

Iman groans. “Oh come on. Not you too.”

“I’d be mad at my brothers for it as well,” Charles says.

Lewis fist bumps the man and they both stare Iman down as if expecting something like an apology from her. One that she isn’t willing to give, because while she gets the worry and is appreciative of it - especially when Charles barely knows her - this is her job. She’s made a career choice and these kinds of situations are the kind of shitty parts that she expects and that need to be expected. Especially from people who’ve seen their fair share of chaos and tragedy in the world of motorsport. She knows that that’s probably why they’re worse about it. But Iman also knows that there’s something more to it.

Instead of indulging them she rolls her eyes and focuses on the engine. They join in after a couple seconds and she guides them through it, telling them the running theory on what they think caused the fire and answering the questions they have about all the ways their hypothesis could be true.

The help feels nice. They don’t slow her down at all and even if they did she realizes that she wouldn’t mind it. Their interest makes it enjoyable.

By the time they finish they’ve mostly ruled out what it wasn’t but have no confirmation on if what McLarens mechanics think went wrong did. It’s frustrating, but Iman knew enough about the job to know that eliminating possibilities was sometimes better than finding the answer right away. In this case it meant she could catch anything that was also an issue, but didn’t get its chance to show out. And there were at least two of those issues she had to document.

Iman follows the other mechanics to give a report and compare notes and she returns changed into clothes she brought with her. When she emerges on the track the drivers are also back in their clothes and standing in front of some of the newest cars from their respective brands or the creators of the engines their F1 car uses.

Lance is looking at her with a raised brow as she enters their field of view and the others appear curious.

“What’s happening here?” Daniel asks, though with how giddy he is Iman knows he knows.

“Friendly race.”

As if they weren’t professional drivers that did this multiple times a year an electric kind of excitement filled the circle. It’s classic teenage boy behavior as they nudge each other and talk shit.

Anne steps in and grabs everyone’s attention.

“We’re going to have a friendly race. Everyone will be paired up and though there is only one tandem here, you can’t be paired with your teammate.” There is some groaning from the Ferrari boys. “And, because we have a McLaren IndyCar driver here waiting around, Pato O’Ward, will be joining in on the fun.”

Pato appears the moment his name is mentioned. He wears a wide smile and shyly waves to the group.

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind me crashing this.”

“Dibs!” Daniel yells.

Everyone startles, but then it’s a bunch of eye rolling and some bashfulness from Pato.

“That’s fine, Daniel. I was going to choose who gets who, but it's free for all. So pick yo…”

Before Anne can finish what she’s saying everyone scrambles and Iman crosses paths with Lewis. She knocks into him, sending him a little off kilter and with enough force that he ends up next to Carlos and her next to Charles. 

“Hey!” he shouts.

Iman waves. “Hi.”

“You know what.. How dare… Why?”

“I haven’t caused you suffering in a while, which I’m obligated as a little sister to do. Also I’ve driven many Mercedes. I want to try out a Ferrari. Plus, even if I didn’t go for Charles the odds of me reaching Carlos before Lance chooses between him and Albon were low. Shit end of the stick, Lew.”

Everyone laughs as they watch a series of emotions play on the man’s face. He huffs and puffs as he tries to find the words.

Realization dawns on Lewis’ face.

“Wait. No. You’re not racing. You can’t… This isn’t… No.”

Every sentence he starts is clearly going to lead to the interaction turning from funny to a little more serious, so Iman lets him work through finding his words.

“Then you shouldn’t have taught me how. I’m not the one who got grounded at his big age for letting me race a car by a woman who is not their mother.”

Alex snickers. “Wait. He did?”

“Yup. Of course she couldn’t make it stick, but she was trying hard to figure out all the ways she could.”

Lewis winces, probably remembering it. Then he rolls his eyes and sulks. “Fine.”

With a much gentler smile Iman walks over and places a kiss on Lewis’ cheek and ruffles his braids, then retakes her spot next to Charles. Though he fights against it she watches the sulking stop

“Okay, just don’t cry to her or dad when I kick your ass.”

“Bring it.”

Anne retakes control of the conversation and directs everyone to their cars. They’re all given helmets, because this is hot lap adjacent. 

“Everyone will get one lap, then you’ll swap. This is about speed and I know that every one of you is capable of doing this in this type of vehicle, but I’m reminding you all to be safe. Nothing crazy unless you’re sure you can execute it without risk to yourself and everyone else. Got it?”

There’s a chorus of agreement.

They all discuss who is going first, but Iman just directs Charles to the driver’s side. He looks at her with a brow raised in question, but then he follows her gaze and sees that Carlos is taking this lap. He smiles and nods.

Once in the car they strap in and Charles takes a few deep breaths. They’re given the signal to get into place and they get into a formation that works for them. Charles looks at her, a smirk on his lips that is equal parts cocky and confident.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I am.”

He extends his arm, his hand in a fist. Iman bumps it without question. Then they both turn forward and wait for the go ahead.

Despite seeing it at the same time as Charles and preparing herself, Iman's heart drops to her ass once he hits the gas. It takes a few seconds for her to chill out and by then they’re on the first turn. 

Charles drives seamlessly and despite the blur of their surroundings Iman doesn't feel like she’s going terribly fast. Then a Mercedes sails by and then another. Without having to think about what’s happening. He is pushing it, but he’s holding back. 

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t let loose Charlie.”

He barely glances at her, probably to gauge if she means it, and then he pushes it. In about ten seconds he’s passed one of the cars in front of them and is fighting off the other. The others behind them catch up and it’s a battle back there, but it’s irrelevant to the one in front of them.

At every instance he tries to get around the Mercedes she knows Carlos is driving, but despite almost getting past he misses the mark by half a second. Before they know it they’re crossing the finish line barely behind the Mercedes. There’s a three way tie for the others about two seconds later.

And then everyone exits their cars. There’s some bragging and arguing. As Charles and Iman change sides he lightly bumps into Carlos with a frown on his face. He’s trying to seem upset, but the smile he’s wearing is wide.

“What about being comrades?” Charles jokes.

Carlos laughs. “Not here.”

Iman slides into the driver’s seat and takes a few deep breaths as her fingers trace the steering wheel. Nerves creep in, but they leave her the moment she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns to see Charles looking at her with a bit of concern.

“Are you okay?”

“A little bit of nerves. Nothing I won’t shake as I put them behind us.”

That brings back the smirk that he wore when he was behind the wheel. There was obviously going to be some uncertainty about her being the only non-driver in the race, but as she smiles back at Charles she realizes he didn’t bring that up or seem bothered when she snatched him up from someone who he’d seen do this for a living. It was a nice reassurance. Even if she knew damn well she could hang with the big boys. At least in this kind of situation, behind an F1 car was another thing entirely.

A muffled shout interrupts the moment and Charles puts down his window, revealing Lewis with his own down. He’s smiling, but it’s that stupid lazy one he puts on when he’s feeling himself. 

Annoying man.

“Ready to lose, Immy?”

Of course he uses that nickname while being annoying.

“You should be asking yourself that, LuLu.”

“Well, I am a seven time…”

Iman flips him off and he shuts up, looking appalled. Charles puts the window back up while laughing, but she catches Lewis’ returning the gesture.

Again Charles reaches out and they bump fists. Then it’s lights out and away they go.

In comparison Iman’s take off is delayed, but despite the few inches everyone has in front of her when she does get going, she closes and surpasses it. She puts her speed over one hundred and keeps it there on the first turn. Lewis pulls ahead and so does Lance, but she manages to evade being boxed out and puts a little over a second between them. 

The next turn has her losing speed a little, but she regains it and keeps herself next to Lance and Daniel for the straight and then on the next turn, she guns it. With ease she ends up in front of Lance and then she’s next to the Mercedes. Lewis increases speed, but it doesn’t beat her out. In the final turn she does what she did in the last one and pushes the car to its limits. The last few feet before the end of the track are a close race, but at the last second she pushes further.

With her speed the car goes past the finish, but it’s a second or two before her brother crosses the line. Everyone else trails by a second or more and then they all leave the car. Iman is shaking from the speed and the excitement. Charles rushes over and pulls her into a hug she happily returns. 

“That was great. No, excellent. You crushed it,” Charles says.

“Thank you.”

There’s some shit talking, but they all praise her.

Lewis is pouting, but it’s not fooling her at all. He’s the last to pull her into a hug and it’s tight. 

“You did fucking phenomenal, Immy. I didn’t expect that. You blew away all expectations,” he says.

As he pulls away he kisses the top of her head and refuses to let her go. Pride shines on his face and she feels even more proud of herself. She feels like she’s the shit. There are no delusions of grandeur on the level they’re at, but she beat multiple professional racers at something adjacent to their own game and that’s good enough.

“I did learn some things from the best,” she says.

He laughs, throwing his head back a little and then pulls her into another hug. They pull away and Pato walks up, patting her arm.

“Maybe you should be in Nascar, that was better than your IndyCar test,” Pato says.

“Her what? You’re what?” Lewis moves so fast to look at Pato and Iman that he should have whiplash.

“Uh…”

Pato winces. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”

“Iman Marie Hamilton. You’re what?”

He moves toward her just as she ducks behind Charles. With how serious - but not in a bodily harm way - he looks she’s sure Charles is going to move out of her brother’s war path, but he reaches a hand around and takes hold of her shirt. As Lewis tries to get around him he moves with her, using the shirt to leverage her.

“Maybe we should forget this and go to dinner.”

Sweet Charles is trying to de-escalate, but it’s not working and that’s in part because he can’t stop himself from giggling. Which turns Lewis ire from just  Iman to both of them.

“LeClerc. Is this the war you want?”

Everyone holds their breath and seconds tick by.

“Yes.”

And without a word Iman breaks into a sprint with Charles following suit. Carlos has chosen Lewis' side so he goes for his teammate. Pato and Lance run interference for Iman while Alex and Daniel join in the sport of being the first to get to Charles. It’s chaos and it dissolves into laughter and labored breathing so quickly. Yet none of them stop.

You’d think they were all a bunch of children and not very much grown adults. But it’s so funny that Anne puts the camera people to work chasing them down for all the actions.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula one x black reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fan fiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fan fiction #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc

[i-amm-mj]

Is it really hate? - NSFW

A/n: So, this is my first post here in Tumblr... i was very nervous about posting it, but my mom didn´t raise a coward so here i am. I hope you all enjoy it, and please be kind, i��m not a native speaker and my anxious ass could´ve ommited  something. :)   

Words: 2k.

Prohero! Bakugo x reader

Warnings: NSFW themes, cunnilinguis, hate fucking?, lots of cursing. 

Summary:  You work for Bakugo at his agency, but your job is not that easy... Bakugo and you hate each other... or at least that´s what you thought. 

You hated Katsuki Bakugo. No. You loathed him with every fiber of your body…

He had been an egocentric annoying bastard since UA, constantly criticizing you and making stupid comments about your lack of talent in your field. He hated you too, that was pretty obvious. But you think that God hated you the most because you ended up working for him in his agency after the one you were working on had closed.

You didn´t know why he had accepted your job application, maybe just to keep torturing you like he used to back in high school, but today he had crossed the line…

“This is bullshit” He said making a disgusted face while holding the gauntlets you had invested an entire month to design and made “I didn´t ask for this shit”

“I just thought that you'd like an upgrade or two…”

“Are you kidding me? I´m not paying you to be “creative”, I´m fucking paying you to make what you are fucking asked for”

“I didn´t mean any- “

“Shut your fucking hole and listen for the first time in your shitty life, Y/N!” you opened your eyes in complete shock. He had a shitty attitude, that was true, but he had never talked to you like this, and you weren´t going to tolerate a man to treat you like that, not even if that man was your boss. So, you stood up from your sit and closed the distance between you and him while holding a finger up.

“Don´t you fucking dare to talk to me like that!”

“I´m your fucking boss”

“So, what!? You think you can treat your employees like shit whenever you are having a fucking bad day!?”  you raised your voice “I´m tired of your shitty attitude, not just to me but to the entire building! I have thanked you enough for the opportunity you gave me while nobody did, but I can´t and won´t take this shit anymore! I´ve tolerated you enough for years!”

“You are free to go then”

“Yes! I know! That’s why I´m fucking quitting this job right now! You will have my resignation letter first thing on the morning” you turned on your heels.

“Who are you going to work for? Nobody´s gonna give you what I gave for your shitty work” you froze. You were fuming. Was he fucking serious?

“You didn´t say that…” you said trying to control yourself.

“I fucking did” you snapped.

“You are a fucking bastard, Bakugo!” you turned so fast that you almost broke your neck but you didn´t care at the moment. “I´ve designed for Shoto, for Deku, for Uravity and even the damned Hawks, and they all were amazed by my fucking work! It´s just you the one that don´t recognize me! Why!? Why are so obsessed with making my life a living hell!?”

Bakugo stayed silent and it was your turn to speak “I hate you! I´ve always hated you ´cause you´ve been a bully for all of us! I don´t even know why such a nice guy like Eijiro can be your friend! You don´t deserve him! You don´t even deserve to be a fucking hero! I´m SO happy that Deku turned out to be the number one… ´cause he does deserve it. He is so much better than you…” you were just a few inches from him, and even with Bakugo towering over you, you didn´t back out. The tension was evident and suffocating...  

“You done?” he said with a blank expression.

“I´m sure that Deku´ll hire me. He mentioned he wanted me in his agency not long ago. I´ll be better in there” 

“You serious?” Bakugo contorted his face with something similar to pain and anger. 

“Course I am. I´ve never been surer about something like this in my entire life” you turned again with the intention of getting out of the room, you had said enough... but then something in Bakugo´s head just broke, so he held your wrist with a strong but not painful grip. He couldn´t let you go, not now, not never. He had always been asshole with you, that was true, but he did like and admire your work. You were amazing in what you did, but he had had a terrible day, no... a terrible week since the last attack of a villain and the media critizing him for everything he did or didn´t. He was tired... He was angry... And he didn´t know how to exprese it if it was not through his shitty attitude towards of whoever was in front of him at the moment...

 “What the fuck are you doing!?” you tried to shake your arm free “I´m gonna scream if you don´t let me go”

“Do you really mean it?” Bakugo asked. 

“What?”

“Do you really hate me?” you scoffed.

“After all you´ve done and said to me, that has to be pretty obvious, don´t you think?” Bakugo smiled. A sarcastic smile that had your head spinning from rage “What´s so funny!?”

“You´re so fucking sexy when you´re mad…”

“You gotta be kidding me” your expression turned from rage to complete shock.

“Not at all”

“Are you insane? Did you hit your head or something?”

“I fucking hate you too… you get on my nerves every damn time and I can barely stand you.” Bakugo put his free hand on your waist and you let him, listening close to what he has to say. “But you are a tease, you´ve always been… and so pretty and smart too” his lips were on your neck, sucking a little on the skin of your throat. You moaned because of his words... “Those fucking skirts and shorts you constantly used back in UA… always bending in front of all of us.” you tried to protest but he bit your neck “Are you gonna fucking tell me that you didn´t notice the huge erection on shitty Deku´s pants when he came to the office and you were wearing that slutty red dress of yours?”  

“I didn´t” He raised his head to look you directly in the eyes. He huffed. He knew you weren´t that naive. 

“Even nice guy Kirishima was constantly glaring at your cleavage” He smirked “The walls in our apartment are thin, you know? I´m pretty sure he jerked off thinking about you that night. I heard some noises coming from his room…”

Something in you snapped again but in a different way. You knew that Bakugo was a good looking man with the body of lust demon, but you had ignore it because of his personality “What about you?” you purred, feeling a little brave and honestly, turned on.

“I wanted to fuck you on that same table. Bend you over in front of everyone and make you scream my name, punish you for being such a slut in front of all of them” He kissed you hungrily and you responded moaning higher when his tongue got into your mouth, exploring the inside of your mouth and battling for dominance with your own tongue.

Bakugo softly moved his hands to under your knees to lift you up like if you weight nothing and then proceeded to put you on the table. He stopped for a minute to confirm that you wanted this to happen, and when you nodded with half lifted eyes, he started to slowly take off your blouse.

His complete attention was now redirected towards your breasts still covered in the lacy of the bra, he massaged your boobs and kissed them with such dedication that your pussy throb at the sensation. You knew he was damn good at this and hasn’t even done anything yet.  

Bakugo kissed you again, this time a little bit softer. You didn’t know he were capable of such display of softness towards anyone. He was always rude and honestly, insufferable, so you felt yourself a very lucky person for being the one receiving this treatment.

“Lay on the table” he said softly and you happily obeyed. Where did your hatred run? You didn´t know and you didn´t care, not with Bakugo positioning himself between your legs.  

Bakugo lowered his head towards your sex and put your knees on his shoulders to have a better access. You moaned when his lips kissed your inner thigh and bit the same area seconds after.

“Be sure to not cover your mouth, ok? I wanna hear you moan my name” Bakugo moved your panties to the side and with a flat tongue started to taste your pussy. Just the first lick took to heaven you and back. You didn’t know how he did it, but the sensation was like nothing you had experienced before. He had a golden tongue, a real prodigy of oral sex. He knew where your most sensitive parts were just by the little sighs you let escape. 

He sucked your clit a couple of times after that and continued giving licks to your pussy lips, but your moans got louder when he put his tongue inside you and started tongue fucking you like there was no tomorrow. Your hands flew to his hair and you pulled a little rough, he groaned satisfied. You could feel the little smile that formed on his face.

“Omg…” you sighed “Don´t stop. I´m close. Please, don’t stop” he pulled out his tongue to redirect it to your clit and then inserted a finger and curved it to massage your insides. You closed your thighs when the feeling was too much and almost suffocated him, but he didn’t stop there, fortunately.

“Say my name…” he groaned without taking out the finger inside you.

“Bakugo…” you moaned.

He inserted another finger and moved the both of them a little faster “I said ´my name´, not my last name, pretty girl”

You were close… so close. You knew that if you didn’t answer to him the way he wanted you to, he could stop and ruin your orgasm, so you obliged “Katsuki…” you whispered.

“Didn’t hear you”

“Oh, Katsuki, please, let me cum” you moaned again. He smiled and helped you with his mouth, sucking your clit again, oh, so heavenly…

“Cum on my face, doll. C´mon, make a mess” he said and you did so. Your pussy contracted against his digits and your entire body convulsed on the table. Katsuki let you ride your orgasm using his entire face, and when you were done, he stood up with a proud face and your juices on his mouth, chin, nose and even his right cheek. That made you smile with a dumb post orgasmic face.

“Was I that good?” he joked for the first time in years after seing your cute face… you laughed.

You sat up after a couple of minutes, your eyes immediately focusing on the erection that he wasn’t trying to cover from you.

“Can I help you?” you suggested and he nodded with a lopsided smile.

“Use your words, pretty boy” you teased with a seductive voice.

“I´m not gonna fucking-¨ you cut him off with a kiss.

“I was just joking… I know that big great Dynamight himself would never beg, not even for a blowjob” you laughed and his face softened.

You got up, pushed Katsuki a little to make room for you and proceeded to kneel down… but just when you where ready to put his pants down, a low knock was heard on the door. You looked up to Katsuki with big surprised eyes.

“Yeah?” his voice harsher than normal. You pinched his thigh and he flinched a little.

“Uhm, Mr. Dynamight, sir?” the voice of your assistant was heard. You stood up immediately. “I- uhm, sorry to bother you, but Miss Y/N and I have a meeting in 15 minutes…”

“Fuck…” you groaned while getting up and clothed again. “Yeah!” you shouted “I´ll be with you in a minute”

Katsuki stood there, just looking at you, his face unreadable. You finished fixing your hair the better you could.

When you were presentable, you faced Katsuki. He had something similar to a pout painted on his face.

“We´ll talk about this later… I promise” you said… He avoided your eyes, and then nodded.

“Yeah, whatever”

You took the papers you had brought to the meeting and opened the door to encounter your assistant blushing to her ears.

“Omg, how much did you hear?” you mumbled while closing the door behind you.

“All of it…”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #dynamight #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo oneshot #katsuki bakugo smut #bnha smut #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader

[saint-siren]

thoroughbred. | pt. ii: spring

summary: Levi’s precious genetic material can’t be wasted even when it can’t go inside you.

warnings: nsfw annnnndddd, I don’t think anything else that wasn’t in the first part?

contains: masturbating, a fleshlight essentially, Levi’s… ‘genetic material’ being collected, vaginal sex, breeding, Levi really wants to get you pregnant, hange is a pervert

author’s note: surprisingly, Levi’s cum being collected via a weird machine has been on my mind the past few days.

part i

The next afternoon was your second meeting. Neither of you had been able to stop thinking about each other or the awkwardness of your situation. Still, somehow you were able to get back to the task at hand.

He had you bent over the edge of the bed, fully undressed while he was mostly clothed, his typical neat clothing wrinkled and half unbuttoned. It was shameful how turned on you were, in the same place you’d been prodded at like a dairy cow, in the same position no less. But even so, you could hear the slick sounds of Levi sliding in and out of you. This time, he’d tasted you, working you up to a breathless edge before he slipped his tongue out of you and waited for you to relax before he worked you up again.

You were glad you could bury your face into the sheets, you didn’t want to know what seeing his face as he watched you take his cock would do to you— what kind of lasting embarrassment it would inspire. Levi had his hand curled around your throat, not yet squeezing but still holding you firmly. You were grateful to feel his warm, calloused hand on your skin, it was a little sentimental but it made you feel a bit more reassured. You could trust those hands, you could trust him with your body. Levi was making such pretty sounds from behind you, cursing when your cunt hugged his cock or when you throbbed around him and left him feeling dizzy. Your cunt steals the air from his lungs with each squeeze.

What if this was the time that did it? What if he got you pregnant right then? The thought was unreasonably appealing to you at the moment. Why hadn’t you imagined that it could feel this good? Each thrust pushed you forward on the bed, slightly. The rub of the sheets against your nipples, already carefully teased and made hard, was maddening. How would it be if you were pregnant? Would he like to see the soft curve of your stomach? The swell of your breasts?

Levi’s thoughts ran parallel to yours, the purpose of the two of you being like this could never escape him fully. He just couldn’t help imagining your belly swelling with the proof, the image of spilling all his cum inside you where it belongs was nearly overwhelming. He wanted it so badly, it disgusted even him. He felt like he was looking at you the same as your higher ups did, as just something to breed for the benefit of others and he hated himself for that. Still, it didn’t stop him from nearly spilling over at the very thought of getting you pregnant.

You were moving your hips back to meet each frantic thrust. You two were really no better than animals in heat the way you shameless rutted against each other, incapable of words. Serving your country this way was humiliating, invasive and yet you were doing it without complaint, enjoying it more than you should. This should have been a matter where both of you grit your teeth and went ahead with resignation like you had before, it was lucky for you that it wasn’t like that but even so…you felt a bit whorish for spreading your legs so gladly for this purpose.

Levi was gripping your hips so hard, you knew he’d bruise you. There was typically never a moment that he wasn’t aware of his own strength and you doubted he’d hurt you on purpose so truly, he had to be lost in the wet, silken squeeze of your cunt around him, in the sound of your skin meeting his. That was a very pleasing thought, you didn’t mind the pain, not when it came from him being so lost in the pleasure you were bringing him. If anyone deserved to be able to forget their strength, forget their burden, it was certainly your captain. What pretty embellishment the bruises would make later on, hidden under your clothes.

His hips moved fluidly though they twitched and stuttered every now again when he hit the spot that made your whole body tense and nearly fucking sob with the unbearable pleasure. When he did so again, with another graceful movement of his hips, you could no longer handle it. In a strained voice, as his hand had begun to slightly squeeze your throat, you begged him to cum. Incessantly, near incoherently.

“You’re talking too much” Levi groaned, he was trying to hold back until he could make you cum. The words were pushing him too close to his own edge, carelessly babbling out things that made his need near unbearable to resist. He put a hand over your swollen lips, blocking your noises.

He set a more intense pace, pressing right against your sweet spot repeatedly. Desperately trying not to embarrass himself by cumming early. You looked back at him, your eyes wide and teary, continuing to convey without words what you wanted from him. You were on the verge of coming, your body tensing in anticipation and the muffled noises from his hand over your mouth come louder and easier.

He was uncharacteristically messy, skin sweaty and hair out of place. The blush spread across his skin matched the shade of his swollen lips. His half lidded eyes seemed darker in the low light, he appeared like an incubus. The absolute personification of arousal.

He took his hand from your mouth, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as his hand ran down your skin back to your throat. He pushed you forward onto the bed and made you lay flat on your stomach. He climbed over you again, pressing his body onto yours, forcing you down against the mattress.

Pushing your legs wider, he fucked you deeper than he did before; he’s so much closer right above you, you can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin before he kisses you, just below your jaw. He’s slower though, trying to avoid cumming before you. But you are no further away from your end with the proximity, the smell of him, the weight of him pressing down on you. “Cum for me, yeah?” he murmured against your skin and you just couldn’t resist him.

It was almost painful after having been teased and denied, Levi let you cry out freely. You moaned and panted like an animal, your cunt clenching around Levi. “Please, please, Levi” were the only words you could manage as you did. He certainly understood.

Through gritted teeth, he lamented his loss of control, “Godammit.” He came inside you with a gasp, painting your walls with what he swears is the most he’s ever came in his life. The noises he made might have embarrassed him if only he could ever hear anything but your heavy, satisfied breathing and your little whimpers as he moved his hips to ride out his climax. You, however, had the privilege to be able to hear his lovely, breathy moans and sighs.

You pulled away from each other for a moment to rest before he fucked you again, this time with you in his lap. He’d had to help you take his cock, the position made you feel him far more deeply and with the near overwhelming stimulation, you struggled to keep moving your hips. Your captain, with the flinty look his eyes he had when you were too slow for his liking in training as a scout, bounced you onto his cock, hard. “Don’t you intend to do your duty? You should at least be able to handle this much” He’d said in a low voice that made you jolt from the authority conveyed in it. “Seems like I have to do everything as always.” Already rubbed sensitive from the first time, you unraveled shortly thereafter.

After the six fertile days assigned to you for breeding, Levi was required, as all male candidates were, to report to the fertility center. While actual fucking was reserved for the fertile days of their partner, genetic material could still be harvested from male candidates for preservation outside of that timeframe. A task Levi looked forward to much less than he had actually having to consummate. He imagined he’d be masturbating into a cup in a tiny washroom and handing it over to a stranger to put in a freezer alongside a million other samples but not before being forced to sign off on some ridiculous form promising that it’s definitely, 100% his sperm. How humiliating.

No such luck on the stranger part. Hange was his practitioner, who greeted him with a smile as soon as they walked through the door.

“How are you even allowed to be assigned to me? They don’t even allow attendants be assigned to people they’re connected to.”

“That’s because with attendants, there’s always the potential to spoof the results if one were so inclined, confirm that someone fucked even if they didn’t. They pay them well enough and threaten them severely enough that bribes aren’t likely but if one were asked by a friend to let them off the hook…” They laughed. “Well, you know. But around here, it’d be hard to fake anything with how methodical everything is. And people feel more comfortable with people they know, they ice up with doctors they don’t know suddenly lecturing them about sperm counts and everything.”

Levi blinked. “Let’s get this over with.”

Hange went to a cabinet behind them and pulled out some strange device, attaching glass bottles to a hollow part of it in the body of the machine that sat on the floor. A long tube connected it to a clear, hollow apparatus with an opening pointing toward him. “You’ll be using this. I came up with the design myself and I had no complaints during the testing phase.” They smiled, somewhat mischievously.

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s what you’ll use to collect your semen” they said, as if that fact should be obvious. “You’ll slide it on, stroke the canal there over your cock until you finish and then let it suck up what you put out.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack. C’mon smalls, it won’t bite. I know it won’t feel as nice as what’s between your partner’s legs but from the feedback I heard, it should still feel good enough to get the job done.”

“Shut up, there’s nothing nice about having to fuck some designated random with some grinning psycho waiting outside, treating you like an animal.” He scoffed. “And why don’t you have a match of your own? They’re playing favorites?”

“I’m a special case, my genes are just as ideal as yours if I do say so myself but at this point, it’s not recommended I put strain on my body with labor and pregnancy. So I’m freezing my eggs for preservation, so that my genes can still be passed along by someone who can safely give birth. It’s a little appealing, I think. Someone will eventually wind up pregnant with my kid. I hope it happens this generation.” They looked excited, genuinely excited.

“You don’t have to be so happy about it.” He scowled.

“Oh, please. Like you aren’t happy about getting to hump away at that partner of yours, like you wouldn’t want to see her pregnant with your baby.”

“I don’t think about those things, it’s just another job” He grumbled. “Not everyone is a pervert like you.”

“Oh? And I suppose you just lie back and think of Paradis when the time comes then, huh? You’re not attracted to her in the slightest?” Hange raised their eyebrow at him, with an annoyingly smug look.

“Just tell me how to turn this shitty thing on. I just want to get it done so I can leave” Levi asked, suddenly fidgeting with the device in front of him.

Hange was effectively distracted at the mention of their invention, one they were evidently very proud of and stopped teasing to explain. There were several settings, pressures, pulses, things too intricate for anyone but a pervert to think of, in Levi’s opinion. “Don’t worry, with these devices, there’s a disposable part in the place you’ll put your cock and they get cleaned out each use. Though, you’ll be the first one to use this particular machine so don’t think too much about it either way.” They patted the body of the device, sitting on floor, which housed the empty bottles.

Levi sighed. “Got it. You can leave now.”

“If you need any help, I’m in the hall, just give me a shout.” He would absolutely not be shouting for Hange even if his cock got stuck in the damn thing but it was nice of them to be so courteous.

Once they left and closed the door behind them, he locked it and flicked on the machine which made a whirring sound, softer than he was expecting. He still really didn’t want to put his cock in it, honestly just being asked to jerk off in a cup would have been less humiliating than having a contraption built for it. Why had he ever treated that like it was so bad?

He stuck two fingers in experimentally, feeling the inside of the hollow chamber. It was wet, lubed with a clear, thick liquid which allowed his fingers to slip in easily. The opening was of a soft, flexible material but it was tight, not unlike…He was starting to see where Hange’s head had been when designing it. There was pressure but it didn’t feel bad, it felt like a slight pull, like sucking.

After a moment, he managed to make himself hard and psych himself up to actually let Hange’s contraption near his cock. As he slid his cock into the sleeve, he sucked in a breath. It was so strangely, warm. It was warm as you were, almost. Although the stupid thing didn’t hold a candle to the way it felt inside you, it was softer, tighter than he thought. It was clear that the intention was to mimic that feeling and his body reacted accordingly. He stroked it over his cock in slow, gentle passes. His cock was absolutely weeping but the situation was distracting, he was very aware that he was alone in a room with Hange’s device clinging to his cock with plenty of people milling about outside.

He can get too in his head, lose his arousal quicker than a candle in the wind. But he desperately needed to get the fuck out of here so he needed to cum and get it done. He closed his eyes and tried to tune out his surroundings. Despite his wishes, he recalled Hange’s words. “Like you wouldn't want to see her pregnant with your baby.”

Somehow the thought made him shudder, it made his cock come back to life. He did, he did. He wanted to see it, he wondered how you’d look, pregnant with his child. The thought got him stroking his cock again, his cock being periodically squeezed by the soft machinations of the device. He imagined his hands roaming over your body, running his hands over the perfect curve of your stomach. He had heard that pregnant women were prone to having a stronger sex drive, in such case would you beg for him to make you cum? If he already had, would you beg for more? He’d have you sit on his face, even if you were too shy to truly commit to it, he’d move your hips for you and fuck you onto his tongue until he was a mess.

He moaned at the thought of you starting to show. At the thought of your breasts, swollen and tender. The thought of everyone knowing whose child you were carrying, who you’d laid with so many times. The thought of you needing him more desperately than before, making your pretty little noises when you begged for him. A guttural groan comes from deep in his throat. He strokes more quickly, the pace is near painful for how sensitive he’s become, it’s punishment for using you as masturbation fodder, for conjuring up the thought of driving his cock into you as he cradled the bump in his hands.

In an uninhibited moment, he thinks that he just can’t wait for you to be pregnant. He accidentally pressed a switch on the machine that made it seem to throb, he was mid moan when he felt the walls seem to twitch and he broke off with gasp. He thought of you, close to orgasm, throbbing and clenching around him. All of his attention centers on coming, on this facsimile of you. His head was tossed back, his lips parted and letting out his faint moans.

He chokes back hiccups as he comes close to coming. How long had he even been at it? It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes and he was already embarrassingly close, straddling the edge. He was tangled up in his illusion of you, halfway phased out of reality, simply enjoying the comfort of your tits filled with milk, of your warm skin, of your taste always being at the tip of his tongue. This alternate reality where he and you were a possibility. He’s even muttering to himself, to your illusion’s self, almost imperceptibly.

He imagines, lastly, your drooling little cunt leaving his lap slick as he bounces you onto him. He’s so immersed he can hardly think or manage anything other than a harsh, strained “Fuck” as the sleeve squeezes suddenly and your facsimile does the same, making him finally release, spilling for several seconds. He shoots everything, every drop of his cum– and there is a considerable amount – into you, into the machine. The pressure increases so that he spills more, a method imparted to make sure that they collect everything, prolonging his orgasm to a painful level until the machine clicks off and frees him.

The three little bottles sitting in the machine are filled with his cum, their lids are mechanically drilled on tightly as the machine shuts off completely. Levi was again awakened to reality. Post orgasm clarity hits him in the worst way. He’s red all the way to his ears in a matter of moments as his breathing slows and disgusted with all that he craved.

He waited a few minutes before seeing Hange and signing out, until he feels he can pretend to be his usual self again. He waited for that yearning and the guilt in his chest to fade, for disgust and humiliation to take its place completely. But even after another few minutes, the moment never came and he needed to get up anyway.

#levi thirsts #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n #snk x reader #aot x reader #aot x female reader

[paddockbunny]

Hey hun, love your writing. Can you do 28 and 30 for pierre gasly from nsfw prompt list :)

Champagne Problems

Summary : Everyone likes to celebrate a win with a little champagne. But, when you get completely soaked by the champagne shower Pierre received by his new team and have to wear his clothes home...that creates a little problem (for him!) Rating : 18+ Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Reader Word Count : 2,000 + Warnings : NSFW, adult material, 18+, language, oral female receiving (male receiving mentioned), PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, PDA & intimate discussions. Prompt Number : 28. Wearing his clothes / 30. Mirrors. Gif owner: @princemick

You were covered, absolutely covered, in sticky, smelly, drying champagne but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Pierre had just won the Austrian GP and the drowning that you and your boyfriend got was so severe that even your bra was completely soaked through. You were glad that the dress you had chosen to wear today wasn’t one of the very expensive ones that Pierre insisted on buying for you while you were in Paris at the start of the year. However, the fact that it was made from satin meant you were pretty resigned to having to hide your body from all of the photographers wanting to take shots of you and Pierre walking back to his drivers room – Pierre was rather happy to have you pressed up so closely to him as he guided you through the garage. Smugness overcame him when he observed it was you in one hand and his trophy in the other.

The ride back to the hotel was like you were on cloud nine. Pierre was floating in a post win paradise and couldn’t take his hands – or his lips – off you for even the smallest of moments. If you had been the driver you would have felt embarrassed (if you knew French and heard all the disgusting, filthy things Pierre was whispering in your ear) at all of the behaviour in the backseat. The thing was, it wasn’t just the win that got him all riled up. It was the fact that you had nothing to travel back to the hotel in after your dress got all drenched with champagne. Which therefore resulted in you having to wear some of his Pierre Gasly branded Alpine stuff. He purred in your ear how hot you looked and how hard he was getting seeing you wear his clothes. He couldn’t stop pulling at the polo neck to peep inside at your naked, braless boobs and when you had got into the car his eyes almost fell out of his head at the way your ass was on full display to him as there were no trousers available to fit you so you had to make it back pant less. You tried to warn him to stop when his hand began travelling up your exposed thigh while he distracted you with his mouth on your neck. He pouted and moaned that he could just pay the driver off if you’d let him fuck you right here in the car. But alas, you held out and tortured him till you got back to the safety of the team hotel.

When you arrived, Pierre was like a man on a mission. He wanted you upstairs as quickly as possible. The growing erection in his pants was getting sort of painful and was definitely hard to disguise. There were fans waiting to lavish him with praise and get him to sign things for them but he wanted to blow past them. “Pierre, you have too…don’t be a dick.” You corrected him and he looked at you with a scowl. “If you could feel how hard my dick was right now then you wouldn’t have said that.” He rolled his eyes and reluctantly took the pen from one of the people stood waiting. You watched from the side lines as he tried everything to make sure his hard on wasn’t obvious. You found it rather amusing and several times he glanced over to see you hiding your obvious laughter behind your hand. Which meant he shot you warning eyes to stop before he deemed you a naughty girl who needed punishing when he finally, eventually, got you alone. He did his duty as a driver and it was when some people come rushing around a corner toward the hotel entrance that he had enough. Seeing them descend toward him was his queue and he swiftly grabbed hold of you by a firm hand on your arm and pulled you inside with him.

“How is little Pierre doing?” You jested as you waited for the elevator. Pierre jabbing the up button a million times as if it was going to bring the lift to the lobby any faster. “Little Pierre?” He turned to you with a smirking, yet shocked expression. “Mon Cherie, there’s nothing “little” about Little Pierre.” He glanced down toward his crotch as he said it and you could easily concur with his statement. There really was nothing little about him. Pierre’s member wasn’t just impressive; it was as if God himself had broken the mould. Girthy, just as it was lengthy Pierre had every right to be cocky about his cock. Even more so that he was so good at using it. Your thighs pressed together at the thought of him being between them in a few moments and he clocked the motion. He was so arrogant about fucking you for the second good reason; you had never been left unsatisfied and had orgasmed every, single, time.

Your shoes came off first, then the borrowed jacket, that was swiftly followed by Pierre’s own and his polo. His mouth practically assaulted your throat from the moment you arrived on to the floor his room was on. He even pushed you against the corridor and continued making you moan as a couple of team members were heading down in the opposite direction. It was a complete display of dominance that you would usually scold him for but tonight you let it slide. He had just won and you gave him a free pass to behave as badly as he wanted. So now, in the safety of his room, you wanted him to take control of you and do whatever he wanted as a celebration. As his hands found their way to your ass and grabbed rough handfuls, an article in a trashy magazine about having sex in front of mirrors sprung into your mind. There was a mirror at the side of the bed in the bedroom. You had used it this morning to do you make-up in before heading to the track. Mirror sex, that was a hot celebration right.

When finally, almost naked, the pair of you made it to the bedroom you sighed his name because you knew he liked it. His fingers were toying at the skinny sides of your thong. It was very evident he wanted it gone. He didn’t want any more barriers. He wanted to touch you, to run the tips of his fingers through your folds and feel how wet you were for him. And that was because he continued with the earlier escapades of mumbling utter filth into your ear. He knew his voice – especially his accent – got you beyond dripping for him and he snapped one of the straps holding the thong in place against your hip. Your excitable shriek was joined by another when he suddenly flung you backwards and you landed expertly on the bed behind you. This was another one of the reasons you loved him. He utilised every morsel of his sexual experience to his advantage. Sex was never, ever dull with Pierre and you trusted him implicitly.

Lion like and hungry Pierre stopped at the foot of the bed and clamped his hands around your ankles. You knew he was about to yank you down the bed toward him and yet you excitedly giggled when he did so just because it was fun. The amusement at your reaction was obvious on Pierre’s face but it was also mixed with seriousness and his signature air of confidence. Suddenly your legs were in the air, ankles being placed against one of his perfectly muscular shoulders, and that though he seemed to have a vendetta against was slowly removed from its place. Your eyes never left his. They never left his when he lowered to the ground and placed one of your ankles over on to the other shoulder leaving you open and exposed to him. Tonight was supposed to be about him but he was making it about you. His hands wandered around your hips and he pulled you down further till you teetered on the edge of the bed. His mouth left gently kisses on each of your thighs as he descended closer to where you were now aching for him. You felt your pussy develop a heartbeat as the roughness of his beard seared and scratched your delicate skin. He moaned as he used his fingers to part your soaking, drenched folds. *“Parfait.” He stated boldly before his tongue collided with your most intimate part. Instinct took over you. You back arched, mouth fell open and eyes squeezed tightly shut as Pierre started lapping at your pussy like his life depended on it.

But then as if he could read your mind, while his tongue was paying close attention to your throbbing clit, his hand reached upward and he momentarily halted his actions. “Mon Cherie…” He purred, your eyes flinging open to see him between your thighs, mouth and chin glimmering with your wetness, before he roughly grabbed you by the jaw and turned your head to your left. “Watch yourself as I make you cum.” He knew the mirror was there. Of course, he did. Suddenly it dawned on you why he didn’t want a blowjob on his side of the bed the other night and why he also wanted to stand. He had beaten you too it. There was absolutely nothing you could show this man. You glanced back down at him and he knew that you knew and you couldn’t believe his ego. But Pierre gave you no time to get annoyed at him because his mouth went straight back to work on you. His tongue finding a pace and his fingers joined the mission shortly after. He knew how sensitive you were and he knew how you came the hardest. With an order to keep your eyes open when they momentarily fluttered close, Pierre effortlessly found your g-spot and started massaging it with his fingers while he nipped, flicked and sucked at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to keep your eyes open but it was so hard the more your climax grew closer and closer. Pierre slapped your thighs with his free hand to remind you of the command he had given you and therefore as you teetered on the cliff edge that was your first orgasm of the night, you weren’t surprised to feel the now familiar sting of his hand as it crashed down on you. Pierre moaned against your clit as your hips arose from the bed. You were close and he knew it. He could already feel your walls begin to constrict against his fingers and it was his sign to keep up his unrelenting tempo. He observed your thighs being to tremble and your fingers suddenly launched into his honey coloured locks to hold him in place.

“Pi…” You attempted at croaking out his name but failed. You no longer could get the words out. You were right there and he smugly pulled his mouth off you so he could watch as your orgasm suddenly ripped through you. To Pierre the sight of you cumming was the most beautiful sight in the world. Nothing could compare to it. The way your hips stuttered and stomach muscles tensed. The convulsing that happened as the release of pleasure crescendo’d over you. Nothing in the world was a better image to him.

And right now as you were heavy panting on the come down Pierre reached down to palm his cock and knew he would soon need his own release. His breathing quickened as soon as you looked down at him but he wasn’t expecting you to sit up so dramatically, as if you were already ready for a round two. “Don’t you dare!” You exclaimed loudly. “That’s my job.” You said in protest at viewing him slide his hand up and down his practically pulsating cock. He let go of himself with a gentle smile playing upon his mouth when he watched you flip yourself over and get on your knees, ass in the air for him. You were perfect. Completely and utterly perfect. Pierre arose to his feet and glanced over at the very well positioned mirror to see you already staring back at him. And finally, when he eased his cock inside you he knew that this was the only thing that could possibly replace the high of winning.     

*Parfait = Perfect   

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