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[lady-lauren]

❥ DRACULE MIHAWK X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.5k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: knife play (and sword play), sword slicing clothes, sword against pussy, sword/knife against throat, sword to your mouth, (listen his massive sword is everywhere), some fear-play, semi-public sex, former student/master relationship, degradation, praise, some aftercare, creampie

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Time slows as your eyes catch the glint of a black blade. You see yourself in the mirror-finish; frightened, pressed with no escape. 

“I’m growing…tired of this little chase.” 

Cool metal kisses your chest, the heaviness of his sword lingering just above the panicked swell of your breasts. Mihawk gazes down, head tilting as he analyzes the predicament—you, back down in the filthy alley, heartbeat a sonorous tune up the spine of his blade.

“Sounds like someone is losing his edge.”

“I don’t have time for your brattiness. You’ve got quite the bounty on your head.”

He moves the massive saber lower, the trailing point curved, sharp. 

Threads begin to pop before the blade fully begins to slice through your shirt. Carbon steel stings cold against the heat of your tits. 

“I thought your precious world government would give me a pass, given that I’m,” you can’t help but suck in a quick breath as he presses down with his sword, slow, methodical, enough to hurt and not break skin, “y-your student.”

“Former student. Who is very clearly out of practice.”

“Took you two weeks to catch me.”

“Because I’m patient, sweetheart.” 

Though his patience seems to be running thin. You’ve never been on the receiving end of Yoru, the great sword only ever used when your master deemed it necessary. The weapon can cleave apart a war galleon, swing a shockwave to crumble glaciers. 

Yet now the midnight blade is gentle, precise, peeling away cloth until your breasts spill into the night air.

“Wh–what are you—?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he presses the tip of his sword to your throat, tilting your chin with the point, “you can benefit from a quick lesson.”

Your swallow rolls against the blade.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never dreamt of this, of being at his mercy. Mihawk never crossed boundaries, not while you were his to teach. Only times change, tides shift, and now he’s taking what he wants.

He doesn’t have to tell you to be still. 

“Pretty.” He twists the wide sword flat, barely catching the hard peak of your nipple with the edge before smoothing over your skin with the blade. Your teeth grit as you shiver, trying to keep your breathing even. Mihawk repeats the motion, teasing your nipple until it hurts from the icy steel. “Sensitive, too.”

Nails scraping in the dirt, your eyes flash to the mouth of the alley, shadows passing in the street lights. 

Mihawk traces the deadly metal along the curve of your breast, so torturously pressing into the fat like he’s testing the elasticity. The blade pinches against your skin, not enough to draw blood, just enough to remind you of his meticulous control. 

Adrenaline lights up every nerve in your body as the weapon drags down, a stinging line drawn to your stomach. One wrong move and he could slice you open. Just a single squirm and the heavy sword would pierce skin, impale your insides on the most powerful sword on the four seas.

“Mi-Mihawk, please.” The tremble in your voice is a white flag waving.

“What are you begging for?” There’s a twitch at the corner of his sharp mustache, a smile, self-satisfied and impish. He presses the blade into the softness of your belly, prodding you, teasing. 

“Don’t hurt me, please, I-I’ll—”

“Do anything?” he cuts in, the smile shimmering up to his eyes, concentric rings focusing on how your thighs press together. Hot, needy, all the fight in you draining to one vulnerable point. 

“I won’t hurt you,” the promise comes with a shift of his sword, roaming lower, “just want to play with my catch.”

You try to concentrate on anything other than the weight of danger. A low breeze kicks against the crimson of his cape, mud and dust caking the hem. Yellow haze of distant street lamps reflects off his chest, sweat beading in the grooves of muscle—from the chase or his focus, you can’t tell. He looks a bit older than you remember, all the more wiser on how to play.

“Why?”

“Because I can,” he knocks his boot against your ankle, kicking your legs apart, “because I want to.”

Your tongue feels thick in your mouth. The world has shrunk to just you, the sword toying at the juncture of your thighs, and its wielder—nothing else matters. Not the voices in the distance, the hard dirt against your back, the thoughts you had prior to falling prey. 

It’s a surreal feeling of being caught between moments, between life and the fucked up desire to feel more of the crucifix sword against you. 

“Always guessed you were hiding a pretty cunt. Let’s see if I’m right.” 

The blade sinks between your open legs, knife’s-edge dragging along the seam of your pants. Unhurried, simmering like heat slicing through butter. 

Fear kicks in your chest, rings in your ears. He’s so close to the most sensitive part of you, the sword you always admired cutting through your panties. Cold steel like ice against your weeping flesh—you feel strings of your slick glide against the blade as he exposes you. 

You whimper as your bare cunt is spread delicately, the tip of the steel peeling apart your labia.

“Messy already.”

The precision he wields paralyzes you, the razor edge of the blade brushing against your swollen clit. Pleasure sings down your veins like the pinging of metal, chills erupting over your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut and will your body to stay still, for your hips not to buck. 

Mihawk teases your clit again, and again, swirling the sharp sword over the sensitive bundle of nerves. You choke back a sob, muscles in your thighs twitching as you try to stay calm as he riles you.

“Now what if I…?” he asks himself, the deep baritone of his voice laced with curiosity. 

You gasp as the black blade dips lower, curved point teasing your clenching hole. On instinct your legs try to close, stopped only by his quick reaction. His boot kicks at your knee, hissing like you’re ruining his concentration. 

“Easy, sweetheart. I don’t want to make this pretty pussy bleed.”

Patient as ever, he gives you a few moments to collect yourself, lungs taking in too much air. 

Then the sharpness of his sword pressed back into the squish of your cunt, tip barely easing open your hole like he’s testing, analyzing. A too curious predator prodding his meal. 

“Fuck, please…” you bite from between your teeth, clumping dirt in your palms as you fight not to move, fight the fear bubbling inside your belly. 

“Do you know what you’re begging for yet?” 

“Touch me. Please. I-I need something inside me.”

Mihawk circles your opening, spreading wet muscle, “Tempting words.” 

“You know what I mean.”

The blade skims up from your hole, passing through your folds, flicking over your clit with a metallic ping. 

“Clean your mess first,” the giant blade gleams as he so easily moves it over your panting body, bringing the tip to hover just above your lips, “then I’ll consider fucking you.”

Your eyes meet his, the shape of the sword going fuzzy in your vision as you evaluate him. Golden eyes are glazed over with lustful focus, watching, waiting. 

You don’t break your gaze as your tongue falls from your mouth, licking the underside of the blade. Tangy slick, viscous and gooey, meets your tastebuds. You’d be ashamed of your mess if it weren’t for the way his cock bulges in his pants, thick length throbbing down his thigh. 

In all your years of training, he never once let you touch Yoru. And now he’s flipping the edge over your tongue, washing the jet-black color in your spit.

“Does this please you, Master?” you drop the name like acid against the blade. 

“I could cut out your tongue.” He proves his point by digging the great sword into your wet flesh, just enough to hurt. He wouldn’t. But oh how he could. “If I didn’t have better uses for it in mind.”

Careful patience snaps. In a blur, the blade is gone, replaced by strong hands maneuvering how he pleases. A jerk and you’re off the ground, a push and your exposed tits are scraping a brick wall. 

Mihawk fingers the hole he sliced between your thighs, pant seams ripping farther apart as he spreads your thighs wide. 

His cockhead pops into your cunt, length sliding in deep as he groans against your back. 

“So wet from my sword.”

Spearing into the most intimate parts of you, Mihawk sets a grueling pace, heady slaps of skin on skin and his thick cock dragging along your walls. He’s working towards a goal, purposeful, kissing the back of your neck as he seeks release.

Your hands slide down the granulated wall, gritty brick digging into soft skin. Your nipples are puffy against the same treatment, tender breasts singing with pain. 

“Should’ve,” he inhales with a deep groan, distracted by the suck of your cunt, “known you were such a slut, should’ve made you beg for me sooner.”

You moan his name repeatedly, begging him not to stop, all hot whispers into night air. One hand dips around your body, deft fingers smearing over your clit. Orgasm quickly begins to bloom over your senses, making your toes curl and your back arch against him.

You stare at the ground as Mihawk continues to pump inside you, helplessly whining as he chases his high. You’re fine tuned to every thrust, the way he angles, enough to notice the little inconsistencies. A more shallow plunge, a longer pull of your walls along his shaft before his balls meet your ass. 

A hand latches to your throat, lifts your head and forces you back against him. He sucks at your neck, teeth nipping harder than his blade ever touched your skin. His cock swells at the new angle, pressing apart your gummy walls. Over and over he thrusts up into you, slick squelching from the intrusion, dripping down his balls. 

Mihawk fucks you through the gap he cut into your pants, seams now tearing down your thighs. 

“This how you want me to turn you in? Fucked open and dripping like a whore?”

Before you can register the movements, Mihawk unsheathes the knife that hangs from his neck, pressing it to the column of your throat. 

The soft scratch of his beard meets your cheek as the cold metal of the knife skates up your sweating skin. 

“Perhaps I can make you even more messy, hm? Since you get off on this shit.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your neck as you try to tilt away from the blade. Yet some part of you wants to press closer, feel the sharp edge dig into your vulnerable throat. Mihawk’s thumb pets the steel, purposefully keeping it steady as he grinds into your cunt.

“Fuck, fuck!” you choke down a whine.

“Worried? I could slice you open now— your bounty is dead or alive.” 

The realization of the true danger makes you weak, hands slipping down the wall. He could. He might. It would make it so much easier. Fuck you, gut you, take the prize. 

“P-please, don’t. Please. I’ll go with you, you can do whatever you want.”

Mihawk hums in a twisted pleasure, the sound snaking down your spine. The knife blade twists against your skin, tugging you closer to him. 

“Let me feel this slutty cunt cum, then I’ll decide.” 

A war breaks open in your mind, a battle between fear and ecstasy, swirling together into a messy battlefield that leaves you in a state of limbo. Neither side can win, not when you want both so badly. The fear makes you sweat, the bliss makes your pussy cream around the fat cock that keeps invading your insides. 

You’re overwhelmed, panting and whimpering as your former master uses his power and strength to control you in ways you never thought possible. 

The curved, sharp edge of the knife slides down your throat, resting at the base as Mihawk drives his hips harder, jostling you closer and closer to danger. 

And the danger is the spark in your belly, igniting the churning coil of shameful bliss that makes you want to sob. The fingers on your clit pick up pace, rubbing fast and mean until you feel too hot. 

“Oh god, please, please, I wanna cum, wanna cum so bad for you,” you grit your teeth as you focus on the blinding pleasure, chasing it up the cliff’s edge. 

“Do it,” Mihawk groans as he licks up your cheek, arching the blade at the base of your throat, “cum for me, sweetheart.” 

He holds the knife tightly to your neck as you come undone, the metal warm from your body. Your moan vibrates against the steel, sharp edge scraping until it hurts. The pain bleeds into pleasure, a wicked mixture that makes your adrenaline filled nerves explode with your orgasm. You feel like you’ve been smashed into by a tidal wave, a rush of emotions and bliss toiling over another in the current. 

You babble against the blade, nonsense and pleas. Mihawk follows your flow, pausing his thrusts as your cunt sucks around him. His fingers against your clit go soft, gentle swirls as you wind down from your high. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you, yeah,” he hums with delight as his cock begins to pulse and spurt, pearly strings dripping from where he’s plugged inside your pussy. The mess sprays into your ruined clothes, drools down your thighs.

Mihawk drags the knife over your throat, languid, smearing against the wetness of sweat. He traces the column of your neck, letting you feel the flat of the blade stinging over your skin. 

“You did good, sweetheart, so good.” 

After the knife is sheathed around his neck, he leans forward to trail kisses over your throat, tongue laving over the sore skin rubbed raw from the edge of his blade. 

Your heart is racing, pussy still tight with fear as he pulls his shaft from your swollen walls. 

Mihawk pulls you from the bricks and into his arms, petting your hair as your face tucks into his chest. 

“You feeling alright?” A kiss to your forehead makes you coo, nails digging into him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” you clear your throat, “I’m okay. Guess I’m going with you now.” 

A rare laugh rumbles in his chest. Smooth and soft, like a cat purring to soothe. 

“Yes, you are. But we’re going home. You clearly need more training, after all.” 

You still feel a little numb, arousal and adrenaline still buzzing down your veins. Mihawk brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, down your back, then steps away to pull his coat from his shoulders to wrap around yours. 

“And now I have much more…creative ideas for teaching you how to wield a sword.”

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: Sandy x gn!chubby!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: No pain, no gain. Thankfully, you have a pretty neat yoga buddy.  Warnings/Tags: Cussing, Sandy being wholesome as always, Sandy using cute nicknames, exercising, and brief low self-esteem mentioned.    Word Count: 500+ words 

 "You can do it, superstar! Just a few more, don't give up!" 

"Sandy, I-...I can't!" 

You felt the behemoth of a man shift behind you. 

You gasped as you were slowly pushed forward by his bare chest pressing against your back. Your legs felt like jello the more those massive hands gently pried them apart. Sweat dripped from your brow as a groan erupted from your parted lips. The shared body heat within the room made it harder to motivate yourself to continue. 

"You can, look! Sunshine, you're almost there!" 

"Fuck-!" You almost knocked the top of your head into Sandy's chin as his beard brushed against your neck. You rolled out from under him and laid flat on the ground panting like a dog. Your poor legs giving out after finally getting a break from being forcefully pulled into a pathetic-excuse for a straddle split. 

Sandy gasped, clutching his 'pearls' at your foul language. "Remember what I said about those kinds of words, sunshine, never-" 

"-never speak dirty words unless you want to eat soap afterwards, yeah, yeah, I know," You grumbled as you threw an arm over your eyes. "Give me a few hours, fu-I mean, gosh, that hurt like a bitc-beach."

Sandy narrowed his eyes at your choice of words before nodding in agreement.  

"It wouldn't be wise to put your muscles under so much stress for too long! I'll let you have thirty seconds before we try another pose," The blue man chirped before grabbing his yoga-for-dummies manual to skim through it. 

Sighing, you lifted your arm to glance at your larger than life friend. It was hard enough for him to convince you to join him in exercising, but the lack of results from this rigorous training left you feeling hopeless. You were on the big side ever since you were young. Your parents commented on it, your doctors commented on it, heck, even a few unsavory classmates mentioned your wide physique behind your back. 

It wasn't like you were upset about it anymore, but those comments made you resign in your fate of always being the fat, undesirable one in the group. 

You suppose voicing these concerns as a joke to Sandy was your first mistake. As much as you loved the blue giant, his insistence to help his friends in need could really be…overwhelming to say the least. Nevertheless, you appreciated the attempt. 

"You ready to go, sunshine?" Sandy stood over your deflated form with a large smile on his bearded face. His hand reached down, palm facing up for you to grab a hold of. "I found a few easier poses for us to try, but if you wanna go ahead with our tea party…" 

You exhaled softly through your nose before placing your hand in his. You squealed as Sandy yanked you up until your feet were dangling over the floor. His snicker followed by your slap to his bicep made him lower you back onto the mat. 

"Hmmm, sure, big guy, I could go for a few more." 

"Great, now bend over!" 

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[lady-lauren]

❥ ERWIN SMITH X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: blood kink, bloody kissing, bloody fucking, period pussy eating, period sex, a very possessive but very sweet Erwin (also a little obsessed with you, maybe definitely to an unhealthy level), some rough fingering and rough sex, praise, use of “good girl”, creampie

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Erwin likes to believe he is fair and just, in his own sick, twisted sense of self. With every give, there is a take. In light, darkness. In blood, an oath. 

He’s tasted almost all you have to offer. But he wants more—more than cum, slick, tears, spit. He wants to drink what beats in your chest, forge a covenant with what makes you exist. 

It’s only fair. 

He’s given you everything. So he can take all he wants.

“You know I’m—” Erwin dips his tongue into your mouth before you can finish.

“Bleeding, I know.” 

It’s just hot breath smeared over messy kisses, needy, eager, pawing like you’re worried the other will disappear. It’s been only a week since he’s seen you, yet he’s convinced he’ll die if he doesn’t devour you now. 

You know better than to ask if he cares. If he did, he wouldn’t be trailing his nose down the valley of your breasts, spreading your thighs in big hands so he can see you in your most intimate state. 

Erwin is invading something so private and it makes him unbearably hard. You’re his. All of you, even the dark red blood that stains your cunt.

“I’m going to eat this messy cunt,” he whispers, settling fully between your legs. He rolls your hips back, spreading your outer folds with his thumbs. You react to every little touch, flinching and moaning, perfect little hole clenching and pouring with a pinking mixture of slick and blood. 

Those words to seem to set you alight, the promise of something darker making you bloom. Your back arches, pussy fluttering and nipples pebbling. You raise yourself onto your elbows, unashamed to keep your eyes on him, watching him as if you’re expecting him to fulfill a promise. 

Erwin keeps his gaze locked on yours as he flattens his tongue, running it along the length of your cunt. The sound you make is divine, full of breathy relief and desire. He repeats the action, letting your slick folds hem along his hot tongue as he tastes you. 

Coppery and sweet, blood dripping down the sides of his mouth. 

He intensifies, pressing hard against you, spreading you completely open with his strong fingers. You’re fully exposed, making it easy for him to swirl his tongue over your clit and elicit uninhibited pleasure.

“Oh god,” you say to him, at him, like you’re feeding his ego instead of calling out to some unknown force. 

Your wetness is pooling in his mouth and he drinks you down. He closes his lips over your folds, sucking gently while his fucks his tongue into you. You clench and buck, eager to ride against his face. 

Any shame you felt has dissipated, some primal hunger taking over as you see the red stains against his cheeks. 

He gives you several minutes of undivided attention, pride inflating as you coo and moan, your fingers winding into his undercut and tugging him as close as you can get. His keen ears pick up on every sound, repeating licks that make you whine and fucking his tongue into your hole when your pitch raises like you’ll cum from his focus on your clit. 

Everything is wet. His chin, his nose, his cheeks, all from your drooling pussy, sloppy and bloody just for him. 

He pulls back to breathe, skimming a curled knuckle between your folds just to watch you jump. Then he sinks his index finger into you, smirking as your mouth falls open as he prods into your tightness. 

“Am I the first to taste you like this?”

Your eyes are glossy as you look down at him, like you’re holding back tears. 

“Yes,” you shake your head. “Only you.”

“I’ve imagined this a lot, sweetheart.”

His finger curls just right inside of you, fingertip pressing into a spot that makes your lashes flutter. 

“Fuck, I can tell. That feels so fucking good, so, so good.” Your elbows finally slip out from under you, sending your head back against the pillows and your spine arching. 

Erwin adds a second finger, marveling at how your tight flesh parts for him. Your walls drag along his thick fingers, squeezing against his skin. 

Pushing into you has more blood seeping from your hole, dark and thick. The sight does things to him it shouldn’t, creates a carnal clawing in his stomach. 

He returns to your clit, giving you quick kitten licks to override your senses as he plunges his knuckles deep inside you. His long fingers take to exploring, spreading, prepping. When he finds the one spot that has you nearly careening off the bed, he strokes it over and over again until your thighs start to spasm against his ears. 

“Please,” you sound out of control, desperate, “please keep doing that. I’m so close.”

“Want you to cum in my mouth,” he mumbles against your pussy, pressing close so the vibrations of his voice sends pleasure dripping down your spine. “Come on, sweetheart. Look at me as you cum.”

His lips suck at your clit, tongue rolling against it before he nips at you with his teeth. It’s gentle, just a brush of a canine against sensitive flesh, and the shock makes your belly clench and your nails claw into his scalp. 

Blue eyes flash up your body, gaze traveling over your sublime breasts until he can find your eyes. You’re pleading to him, brows pinching together. But there’s still a determination in your look, as if you’re willing yourself to follow his commands and cum just for him. 

Erwin presses into you harder, using the strength in his fingers to pump deep into your cunt. If he’s not careful, he’ll hurt you, but you seem to love the trill of fear that spreads across your nerves as he becomes rough with you, blood splashing to his cheekbones.

Then he feels it, the tell-tell signs of orgasm—your lower belly finds a quick, cinching rhythm, inner walls of your cunt fluttering as your throat builds a scream. 

Selfishly, Erwin pulls his fingers from you the moment your orgasm crests, letting your cunt squeeze around nothing but air as you cum. He can hear the frustration in your moan as you climb the high, only for his tongue to cover your hole the moment you begin to crash, slick and sweet ichor coating the insides of his mouth. 

He savors the taste, something so foreign yet so familiar, viscous and tangy. The flavor of what pumps through your heart.

“Erwin, Erwin,” his name is heaven on your tongue. “Inside me. I need you inside me, please.”

“Soon,” he promises. 

He moves up your body, taking your breasts in both hands. Pinching your swollen nipples, he covers them with his hot, bloodied mouth. As he moves between your tits, he smears scarlet with his lips. Blood like ceremonial oil, bright red streaks across your chest, claiming you on an altar dedicated to him. 

“Wh…what does it taste like?” 

Oh how he loves his curious little cat. 

“Open your mouth.” 

Erwin doesn’t give you the chance to overthink. His fingers sink into your cheeks so he can forcefully pull you up for a kiss. He lets you taste yourself against his tongue. Salt and iron, blood and cream.

Your moan is delicious, need and satisfaction melting into one note.

Your fingers claw into the muscles of his back, once again tugging on him, begging him to be closer, to fill you in every way possible. Your thighs curl around his waist, bringing his throbbing cock against your cunt so you can shamelessly rub yourself against his length. 

He bullies his cockhead into your cunt, spearing you open and spreading you wide. Instantly your head falls back, all thoughts eradicated except for how fucking good he feels pushing inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you hiss, moaning at his intrusion.

Shifting his weight back, Erwin sits on his knees and watches your cunt swallow him whole. Inch by inch your flesh parts for him, wet and glistening red. He keeps your thighs pinned back, knuckles going white against your skin. 

When he bottoms out, he finally closes his eyes and just feels the weight of your body around him. Your belly is already tight and clenching, a vice against his pulsing cock. 

He’ll spoil you, make it so no one can ever compete with him.

“Good girl,” he praises. Keeping his cock lodged in your depths, his hands skim along the curve of your sides, tracing around the fullness of your breasts. His thumb plays in the mess he made, swirling the crimson stickiness over your nipple.

“Move,” you demand of him. “Please, fuck me like you promised.”

Erwin grins, wolfish and starving. Your wish is his command.

Languidly, he slides his cock from inside you, listening to the slurp of your cunt as he draws back until only the head of him remains. Then he snaps his hips brutally, your whole body shaking as he buries himself to the hilt. A little scream erupts from your lips, and he forces you to make the sound over and over again.   

With your head thrown back against the pillows, the delicate column of your throat is on tempting display. Your blood is crawling up his taut stomach, splattered against his skin. He wipes his fingers through the wetness, then paints your own blood against your neck. 

Then he kisses you until he can’t breathe, until his cock aches and twitches, begging for release. Blood from your cunt paints your cheeks, a feral mess he’s made from his own fucked up desires.

His teeth and nails ache to tear into you, to rip you apart and put you back together again, with traces of him lining every crack. You’ll never be the same after him, he won’t allow it. He’ll never let you go. 

Erwin smears his thumb into the mess of your cunt, rubbing your swollen clit with precision. The motions are easy for him, memorized since the first time he took you.

“Cum for me, cum on my cock.” He moves his face to your shoulder, focusing on the way your gummy walls hug his cock. “Let me feel you. And I promise I’ll fill your cunt with my cum. Think you can do that, sweetheart?” 

You moan out affirmations, a string of yesyesyes as lose yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging for dear life. He’s being rough, he knows it, but your body loves it. Your nerve endings are singing, every part of you shaking as your cunt gushes around him, sanguine strings staining his sheets.

Watching you cum is one thing, feeling it is another. You cream on his cock so tightly that Erwin explodes, growling some ungodly sound as each ripple and tug of your orgasm milks the cum from his balls. 

He can’t remember the last time he came so hard. His chest aches, heart pounding as he gasps out your name in the last seconds of his release. But you’re not done, your nails are nearly drawing his own blood on his back as you keep your pussy sheathed over him, legs closing in around him as you cry out from the euphoria cracking over your senses.

When it feels like the orgasmic tide has left you both breathless on the shore, he raises his hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lips to wipe away the evidence of what he’s done.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, you? Didn’t put you into heart failure with this little fantasy, did I?”

He chuckles at your too-pleased smile, carefully laying back against the bed and pulling you with him. 

He’s been around this block with you enough times to know that your hormones are racing, that it’ll take far more time for you to escape the headspace of sex than him. He pets your hair as you catch your breath, body sliding to his side so you can wind yourself around him, tucking one of his thighs between your legs.

A thick mixture of cum and blood drools down his thigh, and he couldn’t be more self-satisfied. 

[lady-lauren]

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