#R&R Chapter 10

[stromuprisahat]

Nina stared. “You’re Grisha. You’re an Inferni.” Kuwei nodded. “Jurda parem was a mistake. My father was trying to find a way to help me hide my powers. He was a Fabrikator. A Grisha, as I am.”

Six of Crows- Chapter 37 (Leigh Bardugo)

" ... the Black Heretic, the Darkling who created the Shadow Fold. It was a mistake, an experiment born of his greed, maybe his evil. I don’t know. ... "

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 5

But power was exactly what Aleksander had found, tucked away in this basement—his grandfather’s journals, the records of his experiments. They had become his obsession. He’d been sure that he could do what Ilya Morozova had done, and so he’d tried. The result was the Fold.

Rule of Wolves- Chapter 21

“A Grisha can have only one amplifier. You told me that yourself.” “Morozova’s amplifiers are different.” I gaped at him. “There’s another like the stag?” “They were meant to be used together, Alina. They are unique, just as we are.” ... " ... I know the truth in your heart. The loneliness. The growing knowledge of your own difference.” He leaned in closer. “The ache of it." ... “There are no others like us, Alina,” he whispered. “And there never will be.”

Siege and Storm- Chapter 3

“Morozova was the Bonesmith, one of the greatest Fabrikators who ever lived, and a man who tested the very boundaries of Grisha power, but he was also just a man with a wife. She was otkazat’sya, and though she loved him, she did not understand him.”

Ruin and Rising- Chapter 10

One of the essential tenets of Grisha theory was “like calls to like,” but Morozova seemed to believe that if the world could be broken down to the same small parts, each Grisha should be able to manipulate them. Are we not all things? he demanded, underlining the words for emphasis.

Ruin and Rising- Chapter 4

How an explanation from sympathetic narrator makes all the difference...

[stromuprisahat]

... that I'd almost fucked my great-great-great---cousin, dozen-times removed!!! Better go and marry the boi from the same valley... I'm sure we're not related twenty times over!

That time when Bardugo almost went "Sweet home Alabama"

[yache-berries]

Should I bring him with me to London...?

extra silly cat behavior below the cut...

Yaranaby, where are you going with my Danish "Bring It On Home To Me" Animals single from 1965- YARNABY!!!!!!

[tinykuroshitsujipics]

[apotelesmaa]

The project sekai anthology is such a blessing. An joining akito in “kohane you are never going to meet those two freaks if we can help it”. Shizuairi divorce </3. Tsukasa Tenma Fucking Dies. Favorite moment award goes to this:

Bc while I understand that the anthology is like… not really canon? Only kinda canon? I think the concept of toya “built like a wet paper bag” aoyagi suddenly being able to do sick flips and jumps because he was told to imitate tsukasa is just way too funny for me to not fold it into my world view.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

writing descriptions, my beloathed.

[cramberry24]

I love when im listening to music and put on like, a long song and then FORGET its long, like Heart’s live version of Stairway to Heaven (8 mins) or Pink Floyd’s Shine On You Crazy Diamond (13 mins), bc ill put the song on repeat and then look at the time and im like WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS BEEN 45 MINUTES IVE ONLY LISTENED TO THIS SONG FOUR TIMES

[catgirlweed]

plugging my smiling friends fanfics. actually

[stromuprisahat]

What do you think about Aleksander wanting Ravka's love? How does it look like for him etc

You can't keep doing things out off goodness of you heart, while all your credit's constantly overlooked. There should be either visible results or some acknowledgement (preferably both), otherwise your work becomes incredibly draining.

While Aleksander DID have results to show for his lifetimes of work, let's be honest- even Little Palace pales in comparison with constant animosity and servitude. He's fighting windmills and he knows it.

“Fairness!” he laughed. “Still she talks of fairness. What does fairness have to do with any of this? The people curse my name and pray for you, but you’re the one who was ready to abandon them. I’m the one who will give them power over their enemies. I’m the one who will free them from the tyranny of the King.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 21

Btw, interesting choice of words once you realize he's talking from a position of a serf. He's not merely changing one tyrant for another, like Alina answers, considering his stance on servitude, I don't think he'd let it last for long. Sure, you cannot piss off all the nobles and immediately turn everything upside down, unless you want your country to collapse, but while he might not like to give up control to the idea of democracy, I think servitude would be on the top of his list of things to get rid of.

But back to your question:

Sure, he desires love just like an other human being. He WOULD like to be genuinely appreciated (once he'd believe it), but I think he has it in the same category, where ordinary people tend to place sudden inheritance from previously unknown rich relative. Sure, it could happen...

What he wants is peace and Grisha to be viewed as ordinary people. Even Brainwash-Bullshit-Baghra admits it in one of her manipulative lectures:

“My son was not … He began so well. We moved from place to place, we saw the way our people lived, the way they were mistrusted, the lives they were forced to eke out in secrecy and fear. He vowed that we would someday have a safe place, that Grisha power would be something to be valued and coveted, something our country would treasure. We would be Ravkans, not just Grisha. That dream was the seed of the Second Army. ..."

Ruin and Rising- Chapter 10

I don't remember him ever stating anything suggesting fleeing human affection is among his goals- quite contrary- it was his enemies (in the Retcon duology), who claimed it's what he wanted.

All the Darkling ever wanted was to be loved by this country, adored.

Rule of Wolves- Chapter 20- "Genya"

"That’s why the Darkling expanded the Fold, isn’t it?” Nikolai mused. “He was looking for a weapon that would leave no one in doubt of Ravka’s power. He knew if he gave the people victory, they would finally love him. ..."

Rule of Wolves- Chapter 31- Nikolai

Aleksander is too much of a pragmatic realist with too much experience with people. He knows love cannot be forced, and while it might make some things more pleasant, it's not what he requires. He insists on cooperation (See: Alina) and he's too ​disillusioned with life to even hope for any kind of appreciation.

He'd settle for results.

[gutsfics]

its funny. i enjoyed reading all three Heaven's Secret books in one day more than i did reading the thre The Royal Romance books over the course of three days

but thats comparing apples w dogshit so like. 🤷‍♂️

[tinykuroshitsujipics]

[cheswirls]

oh the hotel arc is starting it is here

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy

Synopsis: Damian presented as an alpha, to everyone's despair. He announced he found a mate, to everyone's skepticism. You're the perfect omega, to everyone's delight.

Pairing: Yandere!Alpha!Batboys X Gn!AFAB!Omega!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; noncon/dubcon smut; noncon drugging; creepy batfamily members feeling attracted to Reader when they were still 15, but nothing sexual or romantic between them happens until they're 18; this chapter is mostly Damian x Reader; ABO, Reader is an omega, all the batboys are alphas; Heat symptoms; Damian and Reader are 15 at first, when the smut happens they're 18, Tim is three years older than them, Jason is five years older, Dick is 10 years older and Bruce is on his 40s; Implied future gangbang? They want to share Reader (polyamory) but right now the real action is just between Damian and Reader; Loss of virginity on both parts; Implied that Damian is also inexperienced on kissing and Reader knows a little more about that; Fingering!R receiving; Slight schoolgirl/boy/person!Reader; Reader wears lipgloss, nail polish and earrings; Omegas breasts produce milk during heat; Some breastfeeding; Breeding kink; Handcuffs; The word ‘rape’ is used twice; Lots of crying; Nipple play; Dirty talk; Slight voyeurism; Unprotected sex; Negative and selfdeprecating thoughts; Claiming ownership (biting); English isn't my first language.

Word count: 4,7k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Planning on making one pwp chapter for each batboy, and then a last one with no smut. Also, I think I'm gonna start posting on AO3 since the tw are getting worse...

General masterlist | To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy - Series masterlist

Damian was territorial, dominant and temperamental since the family had known him. Maybe he was born like that, maybe he wasn't, they couldn't know, so, what they most hoped for was that those were just personality traits, maybe coping mechanisms, and the puppy would present as an omega or beta one day, and then maybe the hormones would make him calm down. It was a small possibility, but one could only dream, right?!

Well, those hopes were crushed when, at his fifteenth birthday, Damian woke up growling at the mix of strong alpha scents stinking his room, his territory, and started pacing inside there, not allowing anyone but the old beta Alfred to come in.

He calmed down after a couple of hours, came out of his room to eat breakfast, assessed and scented the rest of his territory (everyone's territory, really, the manor was the family’s home), and maybe humor his inner alpha by subjugating the rest of the pack. It didn't work, obviously, they were all mature alphas who went through puberty already and knew how to (mostly) manage conflict with a newly-turned alpha who still smelt like milk and was just overwhelmed with hormones.

After a full belly, it was decided he shouldn't have to go to school for the first few days (something the teenager was happy with), to learn to control his mood and impulses, visit a specialized doctor to be sure what kind of suppressants were better suited for his organism, and so he could go through his first rut in peace.

A few days later, Damian went back to school, nose itching from some not-so-pleasant alpha scents, some weak beta scents, some sugary omega scents, and a lot of milky scents coming from most students, especially unpresented puppies.

He wondered how adults live like this, if he would just get used to it, and it wouldn't bother him so much one day. One thing was to feel the smell of flowers or food, another thing was to feel people’s pheromones. But his train of thoughts were halted when he felt you.

Not even inside the classroom yet, but he could sniff you out and find you if he wanted to. Strong, yet suave, soft. Strawberries. And milk. It made his whole body shudder and tremble. Now he knew why his family occasionally asked where the delicious scent stuck to his clothes came from. Now he knew why alphas turned their heads and stared at you so much when you both were walking around. It was all you. His best friend.

Damian stared openly and unconsciously, while you made your way to him none the wiser and sat down at his side, and he almost got annoyed when, at first, you didn't seem to notice his new presentation, as if you didn't even acknowledge him as an alpha yet. But then you turned and stared at him strangely.

— Dude, why’re you staring so mu- Oh. — You blinked, finally having realized where the new musky scent was coming from. — You're lucky you smell good. My neighbor smells like feet.

When he came home, he announced he had an omega.

Obviously, that left everyone bewildered as to what he meant by that, it was impossible for during his first day back outside as an alpha, he already had a mate. But he didn't have to explain much for them to understand, the scent on his clothes was enough proof as to why he wanted you for himself.

After that, Damian invited you to hang out with him at the manor for the first time. It caused a reaction in everyone, and all of them were home, of course they were, Damian wanted to show off his future mate, and you had to meet the family, since he single-handedly decided you were going to join their pack already.

As you walked past each door on the way to Damian's room, everyone had a reaction.

The old beta and grandfather, Alfred, was very polite and nice, he smelt like tea. He smiled more freely with how sweet you were, amused by Damian's clear crush.

Next, you passed Dick by the gym, he smelt spicy, and his door was open, so he could peek better to satiate his curiosity when Damian's crush arrived, yet, he didn't expect to almost fall from his stretching position when he finally took a whiff from your sweet scent for the first time, instead of just the faint and weak thing that occasionally got stuck on Damian's clothes and hair. He managed to look mostly presentable even though he almost sprinted to the corridor to meet you. Dick was even more pleased to see you were beautiful, even in your modest school uniform. He forced himself to hold back and stay in the gym when Damian decided the interaction took long enough, and pulled you to keep walking.

Jason was next, he was in the library. His scent was thick. Woody. He coughed around his drink when he felt your scent, and Damian rolled his eyes at him. Jason’s whole body froze when he saw how soft you looked, clearly an omega. He noted that you looked older than fifteen, but Jason knew you were just a couple of months older than Damian, and you still smelled like milk. His attraction to you bothered him because he couldn't ignore your still-milky scent, and he was already imagining how you would smell like when you fully reached maturity. Your hair was shiny and looked soft, like clouds and cotton-candy. He wanted to stick his nose there and hug you. You looked the perfect company for a nap (and more). Damian quickly steered you away to keep walking.

Next was Tim, he was in his room, and he smelt like peppermint. He always kept the door closed, but during your visit, it was open wide, due to his curiosity to meet you, everyone knew that. Tim snapped his eyes away from his computer when he felt you, and stared at you wide-eyed when you appeared. You didn't even come inside, Damian didn't want to feel your scent coming off of Tim's room to haunt him every time he walked past that door for the next days. It would definitely make him want to kill his brother. Tim tried to burn your image to his brain to the smallest details. He noted the color of your nail polish, your earrings, the thing dangling from your backpack, the shine and rosiness of your lip gloss. Tim specially liked your soft-spoken voice, and it bothered him how polite, neutral and distant it was, because clearly you both didn't now each other, you were just there as Damian's friend, meeting his older brother for the first time, and just wanted to go hole up inside Damian's room as soon as possible to avoid the weird interaction.

Soon, your wishes came through, and you spent the next few hours there with Damian basically teaching you everything and doing your homework. It was a new behavior, he never did that out of instinct before, some people asking him for help would annoy him, others, like you, he would calmly help out of the hidden kindness in his heart, but he never took initiative before. You brushed it off as just new alpha behavior and just used his either gentlemanly or condescending behavior, if it meant you could gain things out of it and be lazy.

At dinner, you finally met his father. Bruce Wayne was the alpha of a pack full of alphas and a beta. His himbo and playboy persona gave you the impression that he wasn't the most dominant alpha around, but you were proven wrong when you felt his sandalwood aroma and saw his towering frame. His personality was the same you saw on the TV, though, pleasant like a TV host or just a popular guy. On the inside, he was fixated with you, ignoring your milky childish scent and your school uniform. He wanted you around the house more. God knows how much a bit more of softness could help the family’s dynamic. Maybe that was what was missing, an omega around the place. Like you. Actually, it could be you. He thought about convincing Damian to stick to living in the manor even after you were both married adults. Or you could be Bruce’s when you were of age. Wait, how old were you?

Alfred drove you and Damian to your place after everything was done, all the alphas with a heavy heart, bothered that you had to go, that you couldn't spend the night with them yet. Even if you were already theirs.

It took a lot to convince Damian to share you, but eventually, he begrudgingly agreed, they were a pack, after all, not just a family, they stick together, take care of each other and of each other's interests. Having something that wasn't just vigilantism in common would be good bonding for them, and the closer a pack could get, the better. That he knew. A pack sharing someone wasn't exactly unheard of either.

After that, Damian started inviting you to the manor more often. Almost every week you were there. Your parents started saying that Damian probably was interested in you, but you laughed it off, never thinking an alpha like him would be interested in an omega like you.

The family made the best of that time to get you used to them, to their dynamic, and to make you feel at home, safe, trustful. They also wanted your scent to get stuck everywhere. To get to know you. To learn everything about you. To make plans.

When Damian's 18 birthday came, you were already legally an adult too, and they invited you over, saying it was a birthday party. When you got there, the party consisted in only you and the family.

The conversation was nice.

They put drugs on your piece of cake that simulated an out of cycle heat.

It started with fatigue.

Then fever.

Your eyes got blurred.

You thought you were getting sick, and just planned on taking cold medicine when you got home.

The alphas were slowly coming closer and circling you, unnoticed.

You felt weird in your intimate parts, maybe you needed to pee.

You stood up, but your knees were weak, and you almost fell, if it wasn't for Dick, who caught you mid-air.

All scents became clearer when your eyes locked. You wondered what the look on his face meant, confused.

You felt their excitement, and arousal. And you felt something poking your thigh.

You felt your own underwear getting wet.

You asked them to take you home, but they denied. That made you feel antsy, so you tried searching for your phone to call your parents to pick you up, but you couldn't find it. It got especially hard when Damian picked you up and started walking up the stairs with you.

— It's okay, omega. You're okay with us. I’m going to take care of you… — Your hands trembled when he purred the word ‘omega’, mumbled those words, and nuzzled the side of your head with his nose, taking a deep breath from your sweet strawberry scent, and faint sex smell, due to the wetness between your thighs. No longer any hint of milk anymore, since you already reached maturity just a couple of months before him, and now he also didn't smell like puppy anymore.

— N-No… D-Dami… W-Where are you taking me? What a-are you gonna do? … I wanna go home… I’m not feeling good… — You whimpered and tried to weakly move out of his hold, it didn't work.

— You are home, beloved. And I’m going to help you feel better… With my knot. — Your eyes widened. — I will fuck you real good and fill you with my semen. I know it is your first time, it is mine too. But do not worry, your heat will make it painless and you will be satisfied with me. — You whimpered higher, your omega was preening, crying for a knot, your pussy squeezing hard, but your mind knew it was wrong. Clearly something was wrong. Why was no one helping? Couldn't they see you were caught by surprise with your heat and were saying no to him? Why were they looking at you like that? A cough coming from somewhere seemed to snap Damian out of it, like he remembered something. — Ah, right. And then, you will receive father’s, and my siblings' knots. I will go first since it’s my birthday and I claimed you first. — Damian blushed, despite his smug tone. 

You cried for help, at first, it came out weak, as your omega didn't want to make something the alphas would disapprove of, but the closer you got to the room they designated for the moment, the reality of what was coming was overtaking your instincts. Especially after your belly started to hurt at being empty of seed.

The alphas only shushed you, and you helplessly watched as Tim handcuffed one of your hands to the bedpost as soon as Damian laid you down on the nest they made for you, and Dick and Jason each started taking your sneakers off. Bruce was standing a few feet away from the bed, Alfred at his side. The oldest alpha’s eyes were glued to your laid down figure, hungry and serious. Darker than you had ever seen. You've never been more scared of him before. He occasionally commented something to Alfred, that you vaguely registered as instructions, that also started being given to his children.

You weakly tugged at the handcuff and tried to sit up at the same time, but Damian pushed himself between your legs, and held you down by the waist. Dick and Jason held your legs open to accommodate him better, and your overwhelmed brain barely noticed their hands also rubbing your ankles and thighs. You've never felt more aroused and more scared your whole life. 

Alfred exited the room to start doing Bruce's orders, and he kept watching. Tim, who had disappeared out of your line of sight for a second, came back holding a long, shiny and glinting pair of scissors. You tugged harder at the restraints and tried to push your body up to get away, thinking he was going to hurt you, but he just purred at you to calm you down, unfortunately, it worked, and your pussy tightened when Damian hissed at feeling your center pressing against his hard cock, when you pushed your hips up and against his. You could feel him poking your underthigh, only the clothes separating you.

— It's okay, omega, I’m just cutting off your clothes, it's gonna be easier to strip you that way. — Tim said soothingly, while purring and almost cooing at you. Your eyes widened when he said that, and actually started cutting your shirt open, until Dick was able to pull the ruined fabric off from under you. 

All three alphas started purring at seeing your braless torso, chest already swelling with milk and nipples darkened. Omegas body produced milk when they had a puppy to feed, or during heats, and ruts, when an alpha was in a rut, and the omega was helping them, because the body understood it was a rough period, where a lot of energy was spent and not much nutrition came, since both were too busy procreating and too weak to go searching for food, so the milk was a lot helpful in those moments. There were even historical moments where that skill was useful in other contests, when the economy got so bad that most packs were starving, and the omegas of the pack helped them survive with milk.

Damian bit his lips and brought his right hand up to your left breast, squeezing it softly. Everyone was entranced, watching a single drop of milk come out, the breast not full yet. You arched your back, it felt good, so good that for a moment you forgot why you wanted to get away. Damian also didn't help your train of thought when his thumb started rubbing your stiff nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body and forcing your eyes closed. You forced yourself not to make a sound.

You snapped out of it when you felt Tim cutting your pants and underwear off. Your eyes widened at the feeling of being exposed and the almost cold air that made your hair stand. Your legs trembled and you felt Dick and Jason's hands working, uncoordinated pads of fingers dancing across the inside of your thighs. 

Your arousal’s scent freely infastated the room now, and half of them growled, in exception of Bruce and Tim, who were keeping themselves more calm and collected. 

— It's time to go now, let Damian and (Y/N) have their moment. — Bruce announced and you watched as Damian smirked, then you hid your face, sobbing against the pillow. He cooed at you while his other hand went down between your legs and started rubbing slow circles while pressing against your clit.

Dick sighed.

— Take care of them, Dami. Have fun and enjoy. — Dick patted Damian's shoulder, but you weren't sure the alpha above even noticed you, too busy gazing at you and your body, enjoying how warm and wet you were. 

— Yeah, remember to do what we taught you, baby bird. — Damian only hummed at Jason's comment, and leaned down, pressing his chest to yours. He brought his mouth to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and started leaving a trail of kisses up your neck, and under your jaw.

It was your first time feeling someone doing this, when you read fanfics and books, you never thought this could feel good like the writing always described, but it actually did, and you hated that you liked it, crying harder against the pillow and hoping his lips weren't moving closer to your face because he wanted to kiss you. You felt his nose sniffing your scent gland.

Tim hummed.

— Be careful with them, and don't take too long, everyone wants their turn. — Tim warned softly and was the last to exit the room, closing the door, but not locking it.

Damian’s warm breath huffed against your neck.

— Finally alone… — Damian whispered with a hoarse voice that made your hair stand. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes harder.

— Please, let me go… You don't have to do this, I won't tell anyone- — Your sentence was cut short when one of Damian's long and thick fingers invaded your entrance delicately. Your mouth opened on a silent scream, and the alpha watched you with lust in his eyes.

— Beloved… Omega… You will come to like this, I promise you that… — He sucked a faint hickey on your scent gland. His right hand started exploring the rest of your body, fumbling and squeezing the softer parts he found out he liked the most. You couldn't control your panting and small moans when his finger curled upwards inside you, touching your sweet spot. 

— D-Dam-... A-Alpha… — You arched your back when he started fingering you faster, your sensitive walls milking a single finger, crying for a thick knot, thirsty for his seed, your womb empty of puppies. 

— See… — He kissed your cheek. — We barely started, and yet… — Another kiss, closer to your mouth. — You're already dripping and earning for my knot… — Your lips met, it didn't seem like he had much experience, maybe it was his first kiss? Either way, you knew a little more about what you were doing, and he quickly learned. In just a few minutes, he was dominating your mouth. The younger alpha gave a slow bite to your lips when a second finger joined the first in fucking you, wet noises eccoing around the room.

You gained some clearance after a few moments, when he took his fingers off. You whined, not knowing if it was to plead him not to rape you, or because you wanted his cock stuffing you as soon as possible. You tried to force your head away from his, and he relented, pausing the kiss, but only to start taking his own clothes off. If your face wasn't already hot from the fever and arousal, you knew it would be now, feeling shy with everything new that was happening and his naked body, and surprised that you never once noticed his muscles before. 

While afraid, you peeked down and saw his hard and bobbing dick, it was thick and above average, but not too much. Not too much for someone who wasn't a virgin like you were, that is.

You tried to sit up, to get away from him in a bolt of strength you didn't have until now, fighting your omega with as much as you could. But it proved to be no help, as it punished you by making your belly tug and hurt twice more. Your torso fell down on the bed again, powerless by pain, numbness, and the restraint around your wrist.

Damian only cooed, still kneeling above you and between your legs. You cried. You didn't feel his calloused hands holding and caressing your hips, but you felt the blunt wet tip against your entrance. You were ruined.

Your parents would hate you. They would say it was your fault for ignoring their warnings and shoving yourself inside a home full of alphas with no omega. They would kick you out of the pack. And if the Wayne's did good on their word of raping you one after the other, you would probably get pregnant, as you weren't on birth control. That is, if they didn't kill you or kept you hostage in their basement. And even if your pack wanted to, they wouldn't be able to do anything to get justice for you, as the Wayne's were much more influential and rich. You were only going to the same school as Damian because your parents worked as teachers there, for god's sake. You were doomed. And if they decided to mark you…

You cried harder, ashamed of being so aroused now and so dumb all along. For the first time, you hated being an omega.

But all those self-deprecating thoughts were muffled when he finally invaded you. It was slow, gentle, testing how things felt. Damian heaved a breath and buried his face on your neck, breathing your scent deep. It felt amazing, for the both of you. You were so deep in your heat that of course it wasn't going to hurt at all, silly you. Those alphas were right, they are always right. They can take care of you.

— … More… Please, I want more… — You moaned and tried moving your hips against his, forcing his cock to push against your walls faster. Damian's head snapped up, looking at you with interest and lust. You were already cockdrunk, as he was pussydrunk, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

He bottomed out with more hurry, after pulling in and out twice to test if you really weren't in pain. He moaned deep against your face before shoving his lips against yours again, while he thrusted his hips. The alpha found the perfect rhythm while pulling almost all the way in and out, in a steady dance. Your moans got louder by the second, your inner omega happy with all the attention you were receiving.

Your free hand shot up to rest on his back, nails digging his scarred skin, not knowing what to do. Damian's hips gradually grew in force, until the bed was shaking and softly hitting the wall. The sound of your hips colliding and your wetness clear as day didn't bother you, as you only started begging for the alpha. To be owned. To be knotted. To be breeded.

— See how I take care of you… — He kissed down your collarbone, murmuring against your skin. — Make you feel good… — One of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up, purposefully looking for a deeper angle to ravish you. You gasped as he found it, and his thrusts got harder. You mumbled a bunch of agreements to whatever he was saying, you just wanted his knot! — You're my omega now, our omega now… — He softly bit your pouting nipple, being considerate as to not hurt the sensitive and swelling area. Your hand trembled on his back and shot up to pull his hair in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. He pulled weakly at your nipple with his teeth scraping the nerves on the area, until he let it go. — We will stuff you full of cum everyday and every hour… — His lips trailed down your ribs, but the position didn't allow him to go further down. He wanted to leave kisses on your whole body, and now he could do that, because now you weren't escaping them. He growled, resigning himself to traill his lips up through the space between your breasts. Your body trembled with the sound. — Fuck you real good… You will never have to beg, omega, we will spoil you with everything you need, everything you want… — His huge hands trailed up your body until they reached your chest. He squished them for a moment, enjoying how soft they were, and how pliant you were, looking straight into your dazed cockdrunk eyes. Imagining how your perfect pups will look like. Milk started coming out in small drops, so silent that he only noticed when it was dripping down his hand. His eyes shot down to assess the view and his knot started growing at the sight of your swelling breasts and darkened nipples, giving up milk for him, for him, so soft his fingers were digging and moulding the flesh, all while they were dancing up and down, bouncing, seducing him. You were seducing him. You were stunning, ravishing, perfect without even trying. He was happy his pack was the one tying you down to them, he wanted to kill someone just for thinking that someone else could have you like this. — … And you will give us everything we want…

He tentatively, almost hypnotized, leaned down and sucked your stiff nipple between his soft lips, sucking a small amount of milk inside, letting It rest on his tongue for a moment, savouring the taste, before swallowing.

You were sensitive, with a dull ache, but his suckling helped with the pain and sent waves of flickering pleasure against your body. You could feel him forcing his knot with each thrust to fit inside you as it gradually grew, and gasped, whimpering pleas for more. Begging him to keep going and stuff you full. You were both getting close to orgasm. Damian shut his eyes hard, overstimulated with the growing pleasure. He let go of your breast when he started feeling his canines getting more protruded, itching to bite your neck and claim you, his eyes also getting brighter, his inner alpha waiting to take ownership over you. Strip you off the life you had before. Forcing you to subjugate, until the smallest cells in your body knew who you belonged to.

He didn't hold himself, of course, and your first mark soon made home above your collarbone, your souls locking together and the intimacy going to an extraordinary level when you reached the peak of pleasure in tandem, while his knot swelled and made you stuck together, stopping any drop of cum from going to waste.

Every single drop was forced to stay inside of you, and Damian lifted your almost limp head, you both drunk, still coming down from the waves of pleasure, and forced your lips against his neck, his scent gland, and you, whose omega and heat had taken over since the moment his cock invaded you, didn't hesitate to mark him back, locking the bond completely.

— Good omega, good omega…

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[picturebookshelf]

Choose Your Own Adventure: Blood on the Handle

Story: R. A. Montgomery -- Art: Jean Michel (Original Edition: 1989 -- This Edition: 2010)

[vamptastic]

want a physical copy of my ethics textbook sooooo bad but its like $170 for the current edition weneed to start killing people

[duskidolsmut]

Karina X Male Reader - "Fucking the Dirty Neighbor"

"You live on a quiet street, but everything changes when you start spying on Karina, the hot Korean neighbor who lives next door. She has a habit of taking showers and rubbing herself with cream naked, with the window open, driving you crazy with desire. What starts as a secret dirty act turns into a hardcore whoredom, with her calling you inside and involving you in a game of rough sex, provocations and some bullies that will make you go crazy."

Tags: Voyeur, Hot Neighbor, Brutal Blowjob, Hardcore Sex, Domination, Submission, Throat Fuck, Forced Orgasm, Spitting, Slapping, Humiliation, Sexual Blackmail, Open Window, Pervert, Plot Twist

W: 5.236

The summer air on that quiet street was thick, and the open windows were an invitation—both to the breeze and to the secrets of others. You never planned to become a voyeur, but she made it impossible to resist. Karina, the Korean neighbor in the house next door, was an irresistible mystery: a woman in her early twenties, tall, with curves that looked sculpted and an air of confidence you only admired from afar. Her bedroom was just a few meters from your window, and the thin curtain she never closed was like a private movie screen.

It all started by accident on a sweltering July night. You saw her come home at 10 PM, her hair tied in a messy bun, her body exhausted from work—maybe as a model or dancer, you guessed, judging by the way she moved. She stepped into her room, turned on the lamp, and began her ritual: a long shower, steam escaping through the slightly open window, the sound of water falling like a whisper pulling you closer. When she returned, wrapped in a white towel that barely contained her curves, you swore you’d look away. But then the towel slipped, pooling at her feet, and her golden skin glowed under the soft light—round breasts, a narrow waist, toned thighs. Your pulse spiked, and you froze as she grabbed a jar of lotion and began massaging herself: her fingers gliding slowly up her thighs, rising to her breasts, squeezing them lightly as if she knew she was being watched, then tracing her neck with an almost erotic delicacy.

In the days that followed, it became an addiction. Each night brought something new: On Monday, she let her damp hair down and dropped the towel on purpose, staying naked longer as she stretched on the bed, her hands roaming her body as if testing her own allure. On Wednesday, she swapped the towel for a sheer black nightgown, the fabric clinging to her damp skin as she danced alone to muted R&B. On Friday, she opened the window wider, the heat making her sigh as she sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing oil into her legs, eyes closed and head tilted back in what felt like an unspoken invitation. You caught yourself holding your breath, the summer heat blending with the fire building inside you, your heart pounding so loud you feared she’d hear it.

Weeks passed like this, each night a chapter in a silent obsession. You noticed details: the small tattoo on her ribcage that only appeared when she turned, the way she bit her lip while checking herself in the mirror, the low laugh she let out when reading something on her phone. She never seemed to see you—until that night. The air was heavier than ever, and Karina, post-shower, let the towel drop as usual. Only this time, as she massaged her breasts with lotion, she paused. Her eyes locked onto yours through the window, sharp and penetrating, as if she’d known all along. Your stomach dropped, but before you could hide, she smiled—a slow, dangerous, almost predatory grin. She stood, still naked, and walked to the window, her body lit up like a promise. With a single gesture, a curl of her finger, she beckoned you. "Come here," she mouthed, soundlessly, and you knew there was no turning back.

On the way to her place, your legs trembled, sweat trickling down your neck. She opened the door wearing only that black nightgown, the fabric sticking to her still-damp skin. "Enjoy the show, little spy?" she asked, her voice husky and teasing, as she pulled you inside and locked the door. Her eyes devoured you, and she stepped closer, the scent of vanilla and warm skin enveloping you. Her fingers grazed your chest, trailing down to the waistband of your pants, and she laughed softly. "You watched me for days… now you owe me something in return." She pushed you against the wall, her body pressed to yours, her lips inches from yours, breathing heavily as her hands gripped you with a mix of punishment and desire.

The hallway’s dim light sharpened the shadows of Karina’s sharp collarbones, the elegant curve of her neck, the tantalizing valley between her breasts as they rose and fell under the sheer black camisole. Her scent—vanilla lotion mixed with the damp heat of her post-shower skin—wrapped around you like a drug. Her hands were already in command: one undid your belt with deft fingers, the other pinned your wrist above your head against the wall with a force that made you swallow hard.

“You stood there so long, watching my every move…” Her voice was a rough whisper, laced with sarcasm and desire. “Did you think I didn’t notice?” Her knee pressed against your groin, firm and deliberate, wrenching a moan you tried to stifle. She smiled—slow, dangerous—and closed the distance with a cruel kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with a slowness that drove you wild, a thread of saliva connecting you when she pulled away.

“Let’s see if you can handle this,” she taunted, peeling off the camisole in one fluid motion. The fabric pooled at her feet, revealing pert breasts, hard nipples, the narrow waist and hips you’d fantasized about for weeks. Your hands reached for her, but she shoved them back against the wall. “Not yet,” she growled, biting your lower lip until it stung. “You owe me.”

She sank to her knees, her gaze daring you to look away. Her fingers dragged your zipper down slowly, freeing you, the cold air a stark contrast to the heat of her breath. “Hmm,” she hummed, eyes widening for a split second as she gripped you, feeling you harden under her touch. “Bigger than I imagined… and I did see you trying to hide it.” A low laugh vibrated against your skin as her lips closed around you, starting with a slow, deep suck that made your muscles tense.

Karina was in absolute control. One hand tightened around the base of your cock, guiding it as she took you in a hypnotic rhythm—now slow, her tongue swirling the tip, now fast, swallowing you to the back of her throat just to hear you choke. Her other hand slid between her own thighs, fingers moving rapidly as she touched herself, muffled moans buzzing against your skin.

“Rock fucking hard,” she said, pulling off just to smirk up at you, spit glistening on her chin. “Almost impressive.” She took you again, hungrier now, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as she fucked herself with her fingers, the wet sounds mixing with your groans. You grabbed for her hair, but she pinned your wrists to the wall, iron grip unyielding. “I’m* in charge here,”* she whispered before speeding up, her hot, slick mouth pushing you to the edge.

You felt your climax building—and so did she. Her movements turned frantic, fingers plunging deeper as she moaned around you. When you came, she swallowed every drop with a guttural sound of satisfaction, her body trembling as she came at the same time, hips jerking. A trickle of cum escaped the corner of her mouth; she wiped it with her finger, licking it away with a smug grin.

She rose slowly, her breasts brushing your chest as she stared you down, still breathless. “Good boy,” she purred, voice thick with sarcasm. Then, icy cold: “But I don’t need you anymore.”

Without warning, she shoved you toward the door, your clothes still tangled on the floor. “Out,” she ordered, yanking it open. Dazed and weak-kneed, you tried to protest, but she cut you off: “I got what I wanted. Don’t make me repeat myself.” She pushed you into the dark hallway, tossing your shirt after you, and slammed the door with a bang. The night’s silence swallowed you whole, her taste still on your lips, your body throbbing with a pleasure she’d given and taken with equal ease.

After that night—after Karina kicked you out with a frosty smile and a “don’t need you anymore”—something shifted. The curtains of her bedroom, once a portal to her nightly rituals, stayed shut. Night after night, you tried to peek, but all you saw was thick fabric barring any glimpse of her. The lamp still flicked on at 10 PM, the muffled sound of the shower still seeped through the cracked window, but Karina had locked you out of her world. As if she knew you were there, waiting… and this silence was your punishment.

The obsession grew like a fever. During the day, you’d see her leaving the house—tight jeans, a loose blouse, her hair tossed to the side as if nothing had happened—and she wouldn’t even glance your way, passing you on the street with a disdain that burned. At night, trapped in your room, you’d try to dull the craving with feverish jerking off, replaying the heat of her mouth, the way she’d dominated you, the sound of her moans as she touched herself. But it wasn’t enough. Every attempt only fed the hunger for more—more of her, of her control, of the pleasure she’d given you before ripping it away without mercy. You started losing sleep, eyes aching from staring at her closed window, wondering what she was doing inside.

Weeks bled together, frustration twisting into a knot in your chest. You needed her, needed to prove you could have her again, that you weren’t just some disposable toy. Then, on a sweltering August night, something shifted. After days of drawn curtains, you looked out and saw—hers were open, just a crack, enough to give you a sliver of her room. Your heart hammered as you crept closer, starving for even a glimpse.

There she was. Karina, on her knees—but not alone. An older man, maybe 40, salt-and-pepper hair, athletic build, stood over her, pants open, fists tangled in her hair as she sucked him with the same fierceness she’d once used on you. You’d seen his sleek black Mercedes parked outside earlier. Now here he was, groaning low as Karina worked him, lips slick, eyes lifted in devotion—a look that made your hands clench.

You watched, blood roaring in your ears. She took him slow, then fast, pausing to tease him with lazy licks, and the man threw his head back, lost in it. Like she was performing for you, knowing you were there, powerless behind the glass. Rage swallowed you—at her for shutting you out, at him for being where you craved to be, at yourself for still wanting her so badly. When he came with a grunt, her swallowing every drop before wiping her lips with a smirk, you nearly shattered the window with your fists. He straightened his clothes, patted her cheek like she’d done a good job, and left, the Mercedes purring into the night.

You snapped.

Down the stairs in a frenzy, across the street, pounding on her door hard enough to rattle the frame. Karina opened it slowly, still in that black camisole, hair messy, lips swollen from what she’d just done. She blinked at you—surprised for half a second—before that mocking smile curled her mouth. “What do you want, little peeper?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed like you were an inconvenience. “I told you it was over.” Her voice was poison, but her eyes glittered with something you couldn’t name—challenge, maybe, or pleasure at seeing you so wrecked.

You opened your mouth, anger and lust tangling your words. “You think you can use me and toss me out like that? I saw you with him. I know what you are.” Your voice shook but carried weight. She laughed, low and sharp, stepping closer until her perfume hit you like a punch. “And what am I, huh? A slut who gave you the best head of your life and left you begging for more?” Her head tilted, studying you. “You’re obsessed. Pathetic.”

Karina’s sharp laugh still echoed in your ears, her words—"Pathetic"—burning like acid. The rage, mixed with weeks of pent-up desire, exploded. Suddenly, you grabbed her hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers as you yanked hard, pulling her face close to yours. "I’ll show you who’s pathetic!" you growled, voice ragged with fury, eyes locked onto hers. Her eyes widened for a split second—surprised by your audacity—before she tried to wrench free, hands shoving against your chest. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?" she spat, voice dripping with disdain, but there was a tremor there, a crack in her armor.

You didn’t back down. Still gripping her hair with one hand, you slammed her against the hallway wall, the impact wrenching a grunt from her. With your other hand, you tore down your pants and boxers in one rough motion, freeing your already half-hard cock from its prison of frustration and obsession. Before she could react, you shoved her face downward, the vanilla scent of her skin mixing with the sweat of your anger. Instinctively, her mouth opened—maybe from shock, maybe from hidden desire—and you thrust your cock inside, straight down her throat. Karina gagged, eyes watering, but she didn’t pull away; instead, a wicked glint flashed through them, as if this were a game she already knew.

You started fucking her throat, violent and unhesitating, as if you could erase every taunt she’d ever thrown at you. The sounds were brutal—wet gags, choked breaths, the slap of your hips against her face. This was a twisted game, and you felt it: she wanted to be used like this, like a filthy whore, but was too proud to beg. Her hands clawed at your ass, fingers digging in as she tried to pull you deeper, to set the pace. But you resisted, tightening your grip on her hair, pinning her head to the wall. "You don’t get what you want, you bitch," you snarled through clenched teeth. "Not unless you ask for it."

Her frustration burned hotter—you saw it in her glassy eyes, the way her body writhed against the wall. You yanked your cock from her mouth suddenly, thick strands of saliva stringing from her chin onto her designer camisole. Pulling her head back by the hair, you spat in her face, the glob hitting her cheek and sliding down her neck. "You’re a fucking slut," you said, voice shaking with rage and lust. "All that talk, but what you really want is for me to choke you on my cock, isn’t it? Too scared to admit it. Say I’m right."

She took a shaky breath, lips trembling, face flushed with humiliation and need. Then, in a broken whisper: "Yes… you’re right. I’m a slut. Please—fuck my throat. I need it so bad. Please." It was a genuine plea, and for a second, you almost pitied her—all those hungry, hidden needs masked by her act of control. But pity didn’t last. You shoved your cock back into her mouth, thrusting deep, and gave her exactly what she’d begged for: a brutal face-fucking. She gagged, body jerking with each snap of your hips, spit and mucus dripping onto her thousand-dollar camisole, pooling on the polished hardwood. You didn’t stop, abusing her throat like punishment for every night she’d teased and denied you.

Karina tried to look up at you, but you spat in her face again, the fluid streaking down her lashes. "Don’t fucking look at me unless I say so," you ordered, and she obeyed, eyes downcast as you kept going. A minute later, heat coiled in your legs, cum boiling in your balls. You slowed slightly, just enough to growl, "Look at me now." Her tear-streaked, red-rimmed eyes lifted, your cock buried to the hilt. "I’m gonna come soon," you warned, voice rough. "And it’s a lot. Better be ready."

She didn’t have time to react. You pistoned into her again, hips slamming against her face. Twenty seconds later, you shoved in one last time, cum erupting straight down her esophagus. She convulsed, choking violently, body shaking as spit and semen spilled from her lips, splattering the floor. When you finally pulled your softening cock free, she gasped, chest heaving, a wet burble of cum and air escaping her lips. Karina collapsed to her knees, face a wreck—spit, tears, and cum smeared together, camisole ruined, eyes glazed with exhaustion and something else. Satisfaction, maybe.

You stared down at her, the hallway silent except for her ragged breaths. For the first time since you’d met her, she was wordless, her pride left in the puddle of filth on the floor.

Karina was still on her knees, face a mess, chest rising and falling as she tried to recover. But you weren’t done. The fury and lust she’d stoked in you for weeks still burned, and now that she was broken, you wanted more—to shatter her completely. You grabbed her hair again, yanking her upright, ignoring her weak whimper. "Get up," you commanded, and she staggered to her feet, eyes wet but with a flicker of anticipation beneath the shattered pride.

You landed a sharp smack on her ass, the sound echoing, then shoved her camisole up, revealing black lace panties clinging to her round cheeks. Dragging a finger along her slit, you felt the fabric soaked through, hot and slick. She let out a shaky breath, her body betraying her again as wetness dripped down her thighs. With one rough tug, you ripped the panties off, her half-hearted "Stop…" only making you laugh before you spanked her again—harder—leaving red handprints on her golden skin. "Time to shut that pretty mouth for good," you muttered, shoving the torn lace into her mouth like a gag.

Now she was fully exposed—smooth, hairless, glistening. You threw her onto her back, burying your face between her legs before she could protest. Your tongue circled her swollen clit slowly, her taste flooding your senses as she writhed. You pinned her hips down, relentless, the circles tightening until her thighs trembled. Then—without warning—you clamped your teeth around her clit and bit down. Just enough.

Karina shattered.

Her back arched off the floor, a raw, animal scream muffled by the gag as the orgasm ripped through her. "FUCK!" Her voice was wrecked, tears streaming, body thrashing like she wanted to escape the pleasure. You didn’t let up, licking through her climax until she collapsed, boneless and gasping.

You kept nipping, sucking, grinding, dragging out every spasm until she didn’t know whether she was moaning from pain or pleasure. Her face twisted, shame dripping down with the sweat, her body trembling—utterly conquered.

You lifted your face, lips glistening with her, and took in the scene:

Karina was wrecked.

Hair wild, face streaked with tears and spit, the camisole tangled around her waist, her ass still red from the spanking.

“Look at you,” you spat, voice thick with disdain. “All tough, but deep down… you just wanted to be used until you couldn’t take it anymore, huh?”

She tried to speak, but only a whimper escaped, her body still shaking.

You stood up, wiped your mouth with a cruel smirk, and slapped her ass just to hear her scream again. Then, with a sharp yank of her silky black hair, you hauled Karina off the floor, the strands slipping through your fingers as she stumbled—weak from the aftershocks. You dragged her to the bedroom and threw her face-down onto the mattress, the bed dipping under her weight, her ass still throbbing from the spanks, red against her golden skin.

Karina’s room was a messy reflection of the perfect persona she sold to the world. The huge bed, its white sheets twisted from being clawed at, dominated the space. The dim lamp cast shadows on the walls, while the sweet scent of her lotion fought with the thick musk of sex. The half-open window let in just a sliver of the night’s heat—and the muffled moans she couldn’t hold back.

She tried to push up on her elbows, her hair falling over her face like a tangled curtain, but you didn’t let her. A sharp smack to the back of her neck echoed through the room as you shoved her face into the sheets, the fabric stifling her broken moan. “You think we’re done?” you growled in her ear, breath hot against her oversensitive skin, your hand sliding down her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine to her marked waist. “You haven’t even begun to pay yet.”

Karina moaned—a ragged, shattered sound—as you yanked the bunched-up camisole to her knees, ripping what was left of the expensive fabric with a satisfying tear. Now she was fully exposed: her ass flushed and hot to the touch, thighs trembling from exhaustion and need, her pussy swollen and glistening, still dripping from your earlier attention. You spat between her legs, the liquid sliding slowly down her slit, mixing with her wetness as she twitched—too sensitive to hide how much she still craved you. “Please—” she started, voice muffled against the mattress, but you were already positioned behind her, the head of your cock dragging against her, pressing just enough to make her breath hitch and her hips arch in reflex.

And then you took her.

One brutal thrust. No mercy. Sheathing yourself to the hilt in a single motion, the tight heat of her swallowing you whole as she screamed, her body bowing violently against the bed. Her fingers tore at the sheets, fabric ripping as she tried to anchor herself, the sound of her cries bouncing off the walls. She was hot, soaked, still shaking from her last climax—and you showed no pity. You fucked her hard, each slam wrenching out a raw moan, every impact making her ass jolt and the headboard slam against the wall in a frantic rhythm. “Take it, you slut,” you snarled, hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises, pulling her back onto you with every thrust.

“Ah—fuck… it hurts!” she whimpered, her voice broken—but her body told a different story. The way she clenched around you, the wetness dripping down her thighs, her hips arching to meet every thrust. You chuckled, low and cruel, fisting a hand in her hair and yanking her head back until her neck formed a taut bow. “Bullshit. You love it,” you growled, teeth grazing her ear before biting down on the lobe, ripping another moan from her. “Every time you spread your legs, this is what you beg for, huh? To get fucked until you can’t take it?”

“Fuck you—” she spat, voice shaky but laced with defiance, even as her body betrayed every word. “Do it harder then, asshole, if you’re so fucking tough!” You grinned, her fire only stoking yours, and picked up the pace—thrusts turning brutal, the slap of skin on skin mixing with her cries until the room drowned in it. “Filthy slut,” you shot back, landing a sharp smack on her ass that made her shriek. “Talk all that shit, but look at you—begging for my cock to wreck you.”

Karina moaned, the sound pitching higher, sharper, and you felt her tighten around you, body trembling as she teetered on the edge. “Yeah—fuck, tear me apart!” she screamed, the filthy words fracturing into gasps, her pride unraveling with every drive of your hips. “Make me forget my fucking name!” You knew she was close—the way her legs started to shake, her clit throbbing against you, slick soaking the sheets. But this time, you wouldn’t make it easy.

You stopped dead, pulling out in one rough motion—the emptiness wrenching a frustrated scream from Karina. She writhed on the bed, desperate, thighs trembling as she ground against the sheets for relief. “No—no, goddamn it, PUT IT BACK!” she roared, voice ragged with need, wet eyes glaring up at you in a mix of fury and plea. You watched her clit pulse, red and swollen, her orgasm trapped seconds from exploding—and smirked, leaning down to hiss in her ear: “Beg.”

The amber lamp light gilded her back in gold, highlighting the fingerprints on her hips, the reddened swell of her ass, the tremble of her spine.

“Please—fuck me—I NEED to come, you bastard!”

Her voice cracked—a cornered animal’s snarl. You smiled. It was beautiful.

The untouchable Noona was just this now: black hair stuck to her face, eyes glazed with tears and lust, mouth open in a ceaseless moan.

“You wanna come?” you taunted, hand closing around her throat as your cock teased her entrance. “Then come how I fucking want you to, whore.”

And then—

You slammed into her to the hilt, balls-deep, her scream hitting the walls like a gunshot.

Karina arched, fingers shredding the sheets, body trying to flee the pleasure it couldn’t control.

No mercy. Every thrust was punishment. Every impact rocked the bed. Every tug of her hair ripped out a dirtier moan.

“Yes—YES—FUCK, RIGHT THERE—!”

She screamed, begged, her words fracturing between the thrusts that pinned her into the pillows. You laughed—low and cruel—your hand smacking her ass just to watch the flesh jolt and hear her shriek louder.

“Look at you,” you spat, sweat slicking your chest. “All tough… now just a sobbing mess, begging for cock.”

She tried to reply, but you sped up—

Harder. Deeper. Until she trembled like a leaf in a hurricane.

“I— I’M GONNA—!”

You knew. Felt her clench, her sex pulsing, legs locking in spasms.

Then it hit. The orgasm tore through her like a riptide, wrenched out before she could resist. Karina screamed—a guttural, animal sound shredding her throat—her entire body convulsing as she squirted, hot liquid gushing down her thighs and soaking the mattress.

You felt her grip you so tight it nearly dragged you under, inner muscles fluttering in wild spasms, her legs giving out as she collapsed face-first into the sheets. “God, god, I can’t—!” she sobbed, tears streaking her face, body shaking as if electrocuted, her clit so sensitive every movement now blurred pleasure and pain.

But you didn’t stop. “You come when I say. And I’m not done with you,” you growled, yanking her hips back and pounding into her with the same brutality, ignoring her cries dissolving into whimpers. Her body was a spectacle of surrender—ass bouncing with every thrust, breasts crushed against the mattress, fingers clawing the sheets like they could escape. “Pathetic slut. Look how you gush for me,” you snarled, heat coiling in your gut as she unraveled. She tried to speak, but only incoherent moans spilled out, her brain short-circuited by forced pleasure.

You felt your climax building and, with one final deep thrust, emptied into her, cum filling her as she shuddered, still trapped in the aftershocks. “Take it all, you filthy thing,” you hissed, locking her hips in place until you were spent, liquid dripping down her thighs when you finally pulled out.

Karina lay wrecked—body limp, breath ragged, the sheets soaked beneath her. She couldn’t even lift her head, just whimpered weakly, face streaked with tears, saliva, and humiliation, hair plastered to her sweat-slicked skin.

The room fell silent save for the heavy sound of your breathing. You and Karina lay tangled in the damp, wrecked bed, the satin sheets now a soggy tangle of sweat, spit, and fluids. The lamp cast weak amber light over her body: black hair stuck to her forehead, thighs still twitching, ass marked by spanks and scratches. You lounged beside her, chest rising and falling as the heat of brutal sex slowly faded, the night air drifting through the cracked window, thick with the musk of sex.

Karina looked broken—eyes half-lidded, body slack against the mattress, soft moans escaping like echoes of the orgasm you’d wrung from her.

For minutes, you stayed there, resting in the wreckage, the silence almost comforting after the chaos.

Until a sound cut through the air—a deep voice echoing from the living room.

She froze, eyes widening in pure panic. Before you could react, she sat up fast, her body still trembling, and shoved you hard.

"Get out. Now!" she whispered, her voice hoarse and urgent, pointing to the window. "Go out the window—quick, he can’t see you!"

Dazed, you grabbed your clothes tangled on the floor, heart hammering as she practically threw you out. You scrambled over the sill, bare feet hitting the damp grass outside, and ducked behind a bush, peering through the cracked window—your voyeuristic instincts flaring back to life.

Karina barely had time to yank a short robe over her naked body when the bedroom door swung open. It was him: the older man you’d seen earlier, the silver-haired Mercedes driver, the one she’d sucked off hours ago. Only now, she called him "Dad."

"Forgot my wallet," he said, voice steady as he stepped in, dark eyes scanning the room. He stopped, face hardening at the scene—Karina naked under the loosely tied robe, the bed wrecked, sheets stained, the unmistakable scent of sex hanging thick in the air.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, voice dripping with a rage that made her shoulders hunch.

"Dad, I… it’s not what it looks like. I was just—just having fun after what I did with you," she stammered, tugging the robe tighter, face flushed with shame and fear. But the lie was weak, and he knew it.

The man stepped closer, eyes blazing, and before she could retreat, he slid a hand between her legs with a roughness that made her gasp. His fingers came away glistening, slick with the cum still dripping from her—your cum.

"Who was here?" he snarled, gripping her wrist with his free hand, eyes locked on hers. "Who fucked my little girl, Karina? Tell me. Now."

She shook, lips parted, fear plastered across her face as she struggled for words. "I… I didn’t—"

Outside, hidden in the dark, you felt your pulse in your throat, adrenaline laced with a perverse thrill at seeing her cornered. The man looked ready to explode, his soiled hand raised as if to strike, when his pocket buzzed—a shrill ringtone slicing through the tension. He cursed low, releasing her to answer, his expression stone-cold as he listened.

"Fine. On my way," he barked into the phone, eyes never leaving hers.

He stuffed the phone back, jabbing a trembling finger at her. "This isn’t over, Karina. When I get back, you’ll tell me who did this—and he’s fucked."

Without another word, he snatched the black leather wallet off the dresser, turned on his heel, and left, heavy footsteps fading until the front door slammed. Karina stood motionless, arms wrapped around herself, hands covering her face as she breathed fast, the robe slipping to reveal the marks you’d left. Outside, you crouched in the shadows, cold sweat trickling down your neck, mind reeling at the twist—her, the dominatrix now a daughter caught red-handed, and you, the dirty secret she couldn’t name.

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