#[ desires :: undo all of her control ]

[empirelead-a]

I see people doing this on my other rp blog, so I want to do the same on here~ Have some nsfw headcanons

On the contrary, Kuvira isn’t as dominate in bed as one may think. She’s definitely more submissive when it comes to bedroom activities. 

She likes to be degraded in the bedroom, like name-calling and hair pulling. Of course, that is only reserved for the bedroom when things are turning hot and heavy, otherwise, one will find themselves suffering a fate worse than death.

Due to her demanding job, it’s not often she gets to have sex. When she finally does, she tries her best to cherish the moment, but at the same time, she can be impatient due to the fact, like I said, she has a demanding job that can and will still away her attention first.

Also, she’s loud so she tends to bite to quiet herself down. Blood may be drawn, really depends on how good someone is making her feel.

[luvs4jhutch]

Night calls.

Fanfic type: Smut One Shot

Word count: 1.2k+

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. calling names (baby, sweetheart), dirty talk, no penetration, jerking off and fingering. (I'M BAD AT WRITING ENDINGS).

Summary: You find yourself alone in bed, yearning for more attention from your partner, Mike, who works night shifts and is often too exhausted for intimacy. In your need you decide to call him and express your desires.

"Good night, kiddo," you said to Abby before turning off the light in her room. “Sleep tight” you added, and she returned a smile and a whispered “Goodnight.” You left, closing the door behind you, and headed to Mike's empty room. You turned the light on and fell into bed. Due to his night work, Mike had almost no time for you because when he returned from his shift, the only thing he wanted and needed was to sleep. And, of course you understood. The poor man had to stay up all night… but you wouldn't be lying if you said you needed more than just the kiss and hug that Mike gave you when he came back from that hellish job.

As you lay in bed, your mind racing with thoughts of need and desire and the lack of attention from Mike. You begin to fantasize about him, and you couldn't help but start to touch yourself. Your heart races as you imagine him kissing every part of your body. The more you think about it, the more you need it. You moan softly at your own touch, your fingers finding the spot that sends shivers down your spine. You need more; you need him. As you continue to touch yourself, you begin to massage your breasts, your hard nipples standing at attention against your palms.

Your need intensifies, and you close your eyes, imagining Mike's voice moaning and whimpering in pleasure. The sound of satisfaction that only he could provide. You need to hear those noises and feel him moving beneath you. And out of nowhere, an idea forms in your mind. You've never done anything like this before, but you need Mike's voice and his moans of desire.

"Should I call him?…" you ask to yourself, hesitating for a moment before picking up the phone. Your heart races as you dial Mike's work number, your fingers trembling slightly. He picks up with a "Hello?" through the phone line and you can't help but whimper his name.

You take a deep breath, your body tense with anticipation. "Mike," you whisper into the phone, voice shaky and needy, "I need you… I can't take it anymore." Your words are laced with desire, your voice shaking slightly. You need him; you need him to feel what you're feeling right now. You need him to know how empty you feel without him.

Mike is alone in his office, trying to focus on work but finding it increasingly difficult with your moans and pleas echoing in his ear. Mike's heart races as he hears your pleading voice over the phone line. His body responds instantly, growing hard beneath his desk. He tries to maintain control, but finds out that's almost impossible. "Baby, I can't come to you now…" Mike manages to say between gritted teeth. He can feel his cock throbbing in his pants, and he knows he needs release too. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't resist any longer. With a shaky hand, Mike begins to undo his pants, his mind filled with images of you: your moans, your needy voice, the way you've been touching yourself. He can't help but imagine himself inside you, feeling your warmth and tightness around him.

You're growing increasingly desperate, your need for him is overwhelming. "Mike, please," you whimper into the phone, your fingers moving faster against your sensitive nub. "I need you… here… now." Mike can't believe what he's saying, but he can't stop himself. "I want to feel you around my cock so bad." he groans into the phone. "You're such a dirty girl," Mike whispers, his fingers sliding against his slick skin. "I can't wait to feel you wrap those perfect lips around me." His hips jerk forward, mimicking the motion he wants to take inside you.

Your moans intensify, echoing through the phone lines. "Fuck, Mike… don't stop" you beg him, your fingers pinching at your swollen clit.

Mike's breath hitches at your words. "I won't," he promises, his voice rough with desire. "I want to bury myself deep inside you," he groans, imagining the tight heat surrounding him. "Feeling every inch of my cock stretching you out." Mike's hand moves faster, his cock leaking pre-cum. "God, I'm gonna fuck you so good," he growls into the phone. "m' gonna pound into that tight little pussy of yours until we both cum."

"Mike… please… fuck me," you beg, your fingers working even faster against your clit. Your hips lift off the bed slightly, seeking out the connection you crave. "I need you… inside me… now." Your moans become high-pitched whimpers as you imagine him filling you up. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, lost in the fantasy of him taking you roughly. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge; the need for release is overwhelming. "Mike… fuck… yes," you gasp, your fingers moving faster around your clit. "I need…" "What?" Mike asks, his voice thick with lust. He could almost feel your wetness on his fingers as he imagined pushing inside you. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"Mike, I need… I need your cock inside me," you moan, your fingers still working furiously against your clit. Your hips rock back and forth, seeking some sort of release from the overwhelming desire. "Please, please fuck me." The need for release growing more urgent. Your hips jerk up slightly, seeking out the connection you crave. "Please, Mike…"

"Fuck…" Mike groans, feeling his cock twitch in his hand. He can feel the familiar pressure building inside, threatening to explode. "Hold on, baby, just a little longer." "I'm… so close," you whimper, your hips rocking faster now. "Oh God, Mike…" you moan, your body tensing up as you feel the familiar rush of pleasure. "I'm going to cum…" Your fingers dig into your clit, urging it to climax. "Cum with me, baby" Mike growls, his hand moving faster. He could feel himself about to lose control, the pressure building inside. "Mike!" you moan his name again through the phone, your body shaking as you feel your orgasm wash over you. "Oh fuck… so good…" Your hips jerk up off the bed, your pussy clenches around your fingers. Mike's body tenses and his eyes roll back in pleasure.

"Ahhh… fuck!" he groans, his hand moving faster over his cock, tightening it. He can feel himself about to cum, the familiar heat and pressure building inside him. "Oh fuck, baby…" Mike groans, his voice raw with lust and desire. He can feel his cock throbbing in his hand. "I'm gonna cum…" His hips jerk forward, his hand moves faster.

You hear him moaning and panting through the phone, feeling his pleasure vibrate against your ear. Your fingers, still twitching from their own aftershocks, grip the phone tighter. "Mike… oh God… cum for me…"

"Ahhhh…!" He cries out, his cock pulsing in his hand, hot, thick cum shooting out over his fingers and onto his stomach. "Fuck…" He moans, his hips jerking again as the last few spasms of pleasure wash over him. You let out a soft sigh of satisfaction. The line goes quiet as both of you catch your breath, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Finally, Mike chuckles softly, his breathing returning to normal. "That was… intense," he admits, his voice still heavy with lust. "Are you okay there, sweetheart?" You giggle softly, as saying a whispered "yes," feeling a wave of warmth spread through you. "I love you," you murmur, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you."

"I love you too, sweetheart" he says back, feeling warmth in his chest.

As you drift off to sleep, your breathing grows deeper and more rhythmic. Mike can't help but smile at the phone. He's more than happy to keep the line open.

[evielmostdefinitely]

I just stumbled upon your blog and devoured everything you wrote like I was starving

May I ask for reader wanting children... voicing her desire to Snow... and controlling softdom!Snow with a breeding kink 👀 calculating readers' cycle and monitoring everything to make sure it takes

shake the frost |coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: you and coriolanus are trying for a baby. coryo is taking it very seriously.

contains: smut. dom!coriolanus. dark, manipulative, controlling coriolanus. trying for a baby. smut. pinvsex, creampie. fem!reader.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Coriolanus stood from his place at the end of the table, the room joining him on their feet- a sign of respect, a reaction of fear. Either way, Coryo was pleased. “Dr. Gaul will be taking over this meeting. I expect you all to listen to her judgment, have the plans for the arena’s extension by tomorrow.” 

A muttering of obedience filled like a steady buzz through the room, but Coryo didn’t bother to stay. Heavy footsteps pacing through the grand halls of the Capitol, hands smoothing over his pristinely pressed suit jacket as he stalked towards your private wing. 

You jumped when you heard the dull beep of the security system, the door opening under Coriolanus’ recognition. You turned, a small grin tugging at your lips. “Back already?” 

“For now, yes.” Coriolanus hummed, his mind too consumed with the task before him to scold you for your teasing. Any other time, he’d have you crawl to him, take him in your mouth and worship him, be grateful for him coming to see you. 

“I have meetings later today, but for now,” Coriolanus made quick work of undoing his buttons, shoving the shirt to the ground. “Get undressed.” 

“Oh?” You giggled at his command, thighs pressing together. Still, you reached for your skirt’s zipper, kicking off your shoes to the side. “I was going to ask if you were hungry, my dear, but I guess I’ve gotten my-” 

“-Enough.” Coryo huffed, tongue clicking in annoyance. “I do not have time for your silly games today. I am just trying to fulfill your wish, but if your mind has changed, then I will go back to work and we can abandon this at once.” 

You burned under his threat, piercing eyes pinning you with their intensity. “No,” You muttered, stepping out of your skirt, pulling the blouse carefully over your head. “No, Coryo, I-I was just teasing.” 

Coryo hummed, chin tilted high to stare at you, down the slope of his nose. “That’s what I thought.” He nodded firmly. “You act as if I have all this time. To track your fertility, take time out of my important schedule to mount you.” 

Your face fell in hurt, suddenly aware of your bare vulnerability. “Mount me?” You scoffed lightly, arms hugging tightly around your chest. Coriolanus’ heart leapt at your tone. “Please, if I’m such an inconvenience, then don’t let me hold you from your duties. Clearly they’re more important than me, than creating a family.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Coriolanus took a step towards you, tone harsh, biting with threat. “You know that’s not true. You are the most important thing to me, my darling, which is exactly why I do make time to do this. But I still have other tasks, you know that. I can’t linger for too long.”

Your gaze lifted, sheepishly meeting his gaze. “Don’t be so cruel to me now.” You muttered, a soft request. “Not when we’re doing this. That’s-That’s now how I want to bring a baby into our lives.” 

Coriolanus swallowed down his retort, sharp and firm with correction. Still, a part of him knew you were right to want the baby to come out of love, out of gentleness. He nodded, a soft hand gliding over your skin, coaxing your arms down. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a sweet yet domineering way. You let him kiss you, your mind blanking, dizzy with lust, Coriolanus’ body sliding over yours on the rug covered floor. His lips hungrily kissing down your neck, fingers slipping between your legs, teasing your slick folds with expertise. 

“Coryo,” You gasped, fisting his blonde curls, perfectly coiffed from the day. His fingers curled inside of you, stretching you for him. “That- mmm.” Your gasps fell flat from your lips. 

“Tell me.” Coryo’s eyes were on you, as bright and piercing as they always were, filled with something that teetered on darkness. It made you shudder. “Tell me how I make you feel. Don’t hold back from me, my love.” 

You whimpered, swallowing back a shudder that still trembled over your body. “Coryo,” You whispered, breath caught in your lungs. His fingers curled, pad of his thumb brushing over your clit, toes curling into the rug beneath you. “Oh, y-you know how it feels.”

And he did, of course he did. He knew he was making you feel good, and knew exactly how to make you feel good. He’d studied your body nearly scientifically, when the two of you had first gotten together. Coriolanus wanted to know what made you feel good, how to make you feel good, what got you brainless and sweet, and what got you needy and hungry for more. 

Now, he knew more than then, but he was still learning even now. The first time he’d fucked you, trying to get you pregnant, you’d been nearly insatiable. Craving him more and more and more, until he was nearly begging for mercy to stop instead of you. 

It was why he took so much time and care, thoughtfully plotting out your cycles, because it made you so wonderstruck in his devotion. 

“Look at me.” Coryo rasped, body sliding over your own, skin to skin, your leg wrapping around his hip. “Tell me how it feels?” 

You did whimper this time, a pathetic mewling under his ardent gaze. “I-It feels good, Coryo.” You shuddered, breath hitching in the back of your throat. “You always make me feel good.” 

Coryo bit back a smug smirk, though his eyes gave him away. Lighting with fiery satisfaction, lips pressing to your jaw, trailing up your cheeks. “Do you feel good enough to take me now?” His lips vibrated against your skin with the question. 

“Feel good enough to take my release? Let it take inside of you?” It was filthy, so lewd even for Coryo. You throbbed, ached between your thighs at his words, rutting against his thigh for friction. 

“Yes,” You whined, more demanding than usual. “I’m ready, Coryo, please.” 

Coryo slipped inside of you, feeding you his cock slowly, softer than usual. His hands intertwined in yours, pinning you to the carpet beneath him, pillowy lips pressed to yours so he could feel every gasp and moan. 

He fucked you sweet, slow but filling strokes that had your eyes rolling back, hand sneaking between your bodies to toy with your clit. That hunger still resided in him, even with his soft side, he felt the need to show his superiority. 

Your head was spinning, dizzy and dazed from your third orgasm when Coriolanus finally spilled into you, cock milking inside of you every last drop of his seed. 

“You must put your legs up, my darling.” Coriolanus muttered, hands wrapped around your ankles, moving them so they hooked over the couch. You couldn’t move, too overwhelmed with sensation, body still quaking with aftershocks of pleasure. 

His eyes cut down to you, bare on the rug beneath him. Entirely boneless, his release leaking gently down your inner thighs. If only he had a camera, he’d take a million photos, print them and show them to the world- show them how he staked his claim on you, how reliant the mighty Duke heiress is on him. 

He’d never do that, of course, a fantasy to stay in the clandestine filth of his mind unless he wanted your father to have him hung. Still, his cock twitched at the idea of how you’d look pregnant, how the world would know then, when you started to round and swell with signs of life he’d put in you. How those who doubted him, wronged him, ridiculed him would know then. 

“I read it in a book.” Coriolanus added when your eyes fluttered to his, a glassy eyed gaze that had his chest swirling with warmth. He swiped his undergarments from off the floor, slipping them on before settling beside you. 

Your forehead was warm, damp under his touch, though you keened into his palm. “I also read,” Coriolanus whispered, tone in a raspy sort of coo- nearly gentle. His hand moved down your torso, towards your raised legs. 

You gasped when his hands slipped between your legs, body writhing at the sensitivity still there. Coriolanus’ left palm pressed to your sternum, held you in place. “That you should massage,” His right hand found your mound, finger tips digging and rubbing the muscle of the pubic bone gently. “Your cunt. That it will help my seed take to you.” 

You could barely register what he was saying, mouth opening dumbly, strangled with gasps. Coryo massaging your mound, his seed leaking and moving with every wiggle and clench you gave. You lifted your eyes, met by his wolfish grin, wicked and daring. “There.” Coryo gave a final squeeze to the flesh of your snatch. “That should have taken, but lie there to be sure.” A soft, ghosting of a kiss pressed to your temple, before he padded to the bedroom. The steady stream of the shower rang through your ears, cheek pressed to the carpet, left sprawled and spread limply on the floor of your living room.

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 4

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: a striptease?, female masturbation, hints at incest/sexual abuse, mentions of killing, he fingers you at the dinner table, public humiliation aplenty

A/N: I made it exactly *checks clipboard* three parts without smut

The garment bag is composed of the finest fabric you’ve ever seen. Your pulse hammers at the thought of whatever might lay within — what could Feyd-Rautha have possibly chosen for you? You eye his usual all black garb.

Zipper cool to the touch, you glide it open, pushing aside the garment bag to reveal your present. Bile rises to your throat at the same time you feel a familiar swoop of desire in your stomach, a summation of your relationship with Feyd-Rautha so far.

The dress — if it could even be called that — shimmers seductively, black, and somehow inlaid with thousands of glittering beads. Two slim straps keep it secured, dangling, from the hanger. And there’s remarkably not much else to comment on: the straps descend daringly low, barely enough to cover your decency.

A belt encircles the middle of the dress loosely, and you can only imagine how it would withstand even the slightest of breezes without exposing you. You swallow, deliberating.

“Where is the rest?”

Feyd-Rautha reclines back in the chair. “Wife, why would I disguise your beauty with useless fabric? It would only pale in comparison.”

“I hardly believe this is acceptable dinner attire,” you point out, surprised at the coolness in your tone.

“It’s rude to refuse a gift,” Feyd-Rautha says. “Will you deny me the pleasures of gifting my wife for the first time?”

You bite your tongue to keep from lashing out. Fine, if that’s how he wanted to play.

Clearly this was his retaliation for your bold behavior, you just hadn’t expected it to come so swiftly after his arrival, or in the form of public humiliation. Normally you wouldn’t dare wear such an affront to fashion, or your sensibilities.

“Very well. I would be remiss to…deny you.” You look to Asha, who has presided over the entire interaction with wide eyes. With a smile, you say, “I would like you to undress me now.”

Her mouth opens, then snaps closed.

The upper level of the antechamber positions you higher than Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes have taken on the delighted glint of someone encountering a worthy opponent in the arena. Asha nervously obeys your command as you hold your arms out to your sides, allowing her to undo the difficult laces of your dress. The only sound in the room is the sound of it pooling at your feet.

“I hardly think my husband’s generous gift will allow for underclothes,” you laugh. Asha then begins removing your thin chemise from over your head. She tugs it up over her arms and your breasts slip from the fabric, leaving you entirely naked in the glow of the black sun.

Desire unfurls between your legs. You don’t even have to glance at Feyd-Rautha to know that he is fully captivated by your performance, at the sight of your naked form. In any other situation you might’ve been ashamed of your nudity; the curves you found unseemly, or the dimples of cellulite in the soft flesh of your thighs and ass.

But, beholden by the na-Baron, you were resplendent.

“The dress now, please,” you order Asha, voice breezy and carefree.

Feyd-Rautha’s gaze bores into you, sears your skin like its own personal brand. You loathe to admit that you’re actually enjoying this. Your thighs are slick with revel in your own cleverness, in wresting the control from the man determined to wield it over you.

Asha covers you with the dress, laying it gently over you — nipples hardened and skin flushed with self-admiration, in satisfaction of capturing Feyd-Rautha’s attention so wholly.

Asha moves to fasten the belt next but is interrupted. “Let me,” the na-Baron orders.

Which unspoken, is understood as: leave us. Your friend ducks her head and disappears from the antechamber. You silently thank her for closing the door behind her.

Feyd-Rautha approaches you slowly, measured in his movements. A predator reconsidering its prey.

So then why are you so eager for him to devour you?

He stands infuriatingly close to you without actually touching you, absurdly concerned with the so-called belt hanging at your waist. It vexes you that he refuses to meet your eyes, refuses to give you what you so ardently seek.

“I should strip this from you. Tear this dress from you with my teeth and bind your wrists,” he says, tugging at the belt, agonizingly composed, his breath fanning your face. “Show you exactly what you deserve for pulling a stunt like that.”

His fingers are deft as they fasten the belt. He doesn’t touch you once.

“Did you not like it?” You ask, breathless.

His proximity intoxicates you, takes you by the hand and leads you into a fathomless darkness. And yet he won’t look at you, won’t touch you, just turns simply on his heel of his boot and says over his shoulder, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

The smoldering shower water blasts between the blades of your shoulders, sluices over you and scathes your aching flesh. But it’s not enough, not a fit replacement for touch, for his touch.

Your fingers slip between your thighs and find your pleading cunt. A breathy noise escapes you, and you begin pumping your hand, no time for the attention you usually afford yourself — you’re desperate to rid yourself of this feeling, wash it away in the drain and pretend it never existed. Your release comes fast, insipid, and once your legs have stopped shaking with the effort of your touch, you wrench off the water.

And there you stand, cold and wet, cunt swollen and certainly not satisfied, but at least you can direct your thoughts from —

You slam your fist against the shower wall. Pain, leftover from Feyd-Rautha’s boot, quivers through you like a bow across the string of an instrument. How dare you let yourself become so entangled in him, in his game, in his inescapable command. You are a fool.

Quickly you towel yourself off and step back into the sorry excuse for a dress, warding off any traitorous thoughts belonging to Feyd-Rautha. You have no clue when dinner actually is but you won’t be caught shivering and spent. You apply a simple, dark makeup and leave your hair untouched, determined to set yourself separate from the rest of the Harkonnens in attendance.

And when the scents of food and the clatter of guests float through the antechamber, you take it upon yourself to join the others. You follow the din of a party, a sound you are accustomed to from your time on Caladan, and traipse into the Great Hall to find it already engaged.

The long table usually void of company is brimming with noblemen and women dressed in various shades of blacks and whites, and every single one of them turns and stares at your entrance.

Not even the strictest training can prevent the flood of embarrassment through you. It’s so prominent and all-encompassing that your entire body goes rigid with fear.

“Ah, the Lady Y/N,” a booming voice calls. “How lovely of you to join us at last.”

At the opposite end of the impossibly long Hall, the Baron lifts from the table on his suspensors and effectively stamps out any fleeting hope you had of going quietly into the night. Or perhaps dying on the spot. He hadn’t given you enough time to decide which.

“Come, take your place at my side so that you might meet your court and feast with them on this splendid occasion,” the Baron says.

Surprisingly, your limbs do work, and you somehow carry yourself past the leering eyes in your scanty dress and sit upon the only empty chair at the table. If you weren’t so completely mortified, you might’ve taken the time to glare daggers at the man beside you; Feyd-Rautha lounged regally at the right hand of the Baron. To your utter displeasure, he looked disgustingly wonderful in a dark tunic and pants, his lips reddened by the wine.

It looked a lot like blood.

“I apologize, your Baron, I had no intentions of causing a scene or demeaning your gracious invitation.”

The Baron eats in a ferocious manner best likened to a savage beast, wild and without abandon. Repulsion churns in your belly as you are forced to watch, doing your best to mask your horror as he gulps down his food in large, greedy mouthfuls. A smudge of sauce graces the corner of his unsightly mouth.

“There is no need for apologies, Lady Y/N, as long as it does not happen twice. No court is ever won over by a careless Baroness,” he says icily.

“Where were you?” Rabban asks next.

Rabban sits to the left of the Baron and across from you, fixing you with a glowering look. It’s not lost on you that he is already tormented by this, demoted to the less favorable side of the table in favor for his wicked brother, who replicates Rabban’s probing glare, no traces of awareness that he had been the exact reason for your tardiness.

“We met initially in the salon to give you time to appear. Tell us, where were you, wife? What demands did you have grander than this celebration of our upcoming union?”

Your molars might grind into dust by the end of the evening, if you survive it. You smile sweetly at him. “I suppose I was preoccupied with preparations, na-Baron. Your…gift is not easy to slip into alone.”

“However taxing, you look splendid,” the Baron says. He drains the rest of his goblet. One massive hand descends on Feyd-Rautha’s thigh, strangely intimate. “Nephew, will you fetch me more wine?”

Feyd-Rautha’s face storms over. “We have servants for that, Uncle. Besides, have Rabban do it for you. This banquet is for my benefit, after all, I should be allowed to enjoy it.”

The Baron studies him critically then, more sober than you thought possible. “Very well. Rabban?”

The mountainous man snatches the goblet from his uncle and vanishes to find a servant. You’re prompted to heap some of the food on your plate then, disconcerted by the lingering hand of the Baron and Feyd-Rautha’s obvious resentment.

Dinner passes without a hitch, your tardiness smoothed over by your status as the future Baroness. A small grace for such a tremendous burden.

You entertain the guests with stories of Arrakis and spice production, fielding their endless questions with as much charm and elegance as you can muster. And, frankly, it’s not as horribly daunting or tedious as you feared it to be.

The last course is coming to an end when a man strides up to the Baron with an expression of self-importance. He’s dressed similarly to the other Harkonnen guards but there’s something different about him — where the Harkonnens you know are arrogant about their strength, he hides it well. You immediately start to eavesdrop.

“The Emperor needs you for an urgent matter,” the strange man whispers into the Baron’s ear.

The Baron nods as if he’s been expecting this, and then without a word abandons his feast and glides after the man.

Feyd-Rautha had been surveying the party when you ask him, “What urgent matter?”

He sips his wine. “I don’t know.”

Ha, you think, he had been eavesdropping too. You frown. “He didn’t tell you?”

“My uncle does not tell me everything,” Feyd-Rautha replies. There’s a trace of anger in his voice, but it’s difficult to tell whether it’s pointed at you or the Baron.

Either way, this irritates you. You decide to provoke the beast. “What, like you don’t tell me when our engagement dinner is?”

Feyd-Rautha’s gaze cuts to you. “You’re upset.”

“Yes I’m upset,” you hiss. “I thought I warned you not to humiliate me again. Tonight was inexcusable, you filthy —”

“Ah, careful, wife. You must mind your words before our court. And my oafish brother.” He indicates Rabban with a slight incline of his head. You spot the older Harkonnen approaching with quite the entourage and you scowl. “Don’t make that face. Remember, this is a joyous occasion.”

“How could I forget?” You mutter miserably.

At your side, Feyd-Rautha is a study in beauty. Not in the classical sense, of course, but that of something devastatingly cruel and dangerous, the glint of a newly sharpened blade or the ocean during a storm. Breathtaking, in both senses. Unwittingly, you trace the slope of his brow, his handsome nose, the cushion of his plush lips, and you feel the familiar flicker of attraction.

“Where were you?” Feyd-Rautha asks without looking at you, still watching the party.

“Hm?” Did he know you were studying him? “What did you say?”

“I asked where you were. Before.”

“Oh.” There’s something in his voice that suggests that he knows exactly what you were doing. Your moment in the shower emerges unbidden in your mind, of your hand between your legs and his name in your mouth. You answer as flippant as possible, “I was waiting for you.”

Feyd-Rautha finally sets down his goblet. Rabban is taking his time returning, regaling his entourage with an undoubtedly riveting story, so the na-Baron must feel secure in your privacy.

“You forget that those are my quarters too, wife, and the walls are very thin.”

Shame creeps up your throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, is that right?” Feyd-Rautha grabs the bottom of your chair and pulls you closer to him. Any outside observer would simply think you’re having a regular conversation, which you suppose is the point, but there’s nothing regular about the way he slides his hand across your thigh and dips down to your heat. “Then I didn’t hear you touching yourself, whimpering and pleading for me? For my fingers? My cock?”

“I thought I was —”

“Alone?” He clicks his tongue. “If you didn’t intend for me to hear, then should I not give you exactly what you were begging for?”

It’s only too easy for him to nudge your dress aside and acquaint himself with your cunt, slide his fingers along your swollen lips and tease your entrance. You inhale sharply, without permission. He takes that as an invitation to delve a finger into your slick cunt.

“Feyd —”

“Tell me you don’t want it.”

You swallow, throat working. Rabban is finishing his story, evident by his boisterous laugh and then beckoning his entourage to the table. Feyd-Rautha keeps one finger inside you, unmoving, a sensation unfolding within you that you certainly won’t be able to ignore.

The rest of his hand cups between your thighs, a reminder to you, as long as you yield to him.

“Just say the words, and I won’t,” Feyd-Rautha says, his lips on the shell of your ear.

You’re frozen in indecision. When Rabban rejoins you, you’re sure that Feyd-Rautha will revoke his teasing hand. But instead he rocks his palm against you and drives his finger, then another, deeper inside you with dizzying ferocity.

You grip the edges of the chair, the force of his fingers cleaving through you, invoking a wave of pleasure that ripples throughout your body. It takes everything in you not to cry out.

“Brother, you remember my friends,” Rabban says. His cheeks are reddened by the spice-laden alcohol and he is oblivious to what’s occurring underneath the table. “Uriens and Ze’ev.”

Feyd-Rautha says smoothly, “Of course.”

“Uriens, Ze’ev, this is the Lady Y/N,” Rabban introduces you. He indicates each friend in turn — Uriens, a man of notable stature but a blank gaze, and Ze’ev, slightly smaller and sporting a sneer.

You dip your head and hope it’s enough to count as a greeting. You don’t trust your voice, not with Feyd-Rautha’s ministrations. Your cunt pulses with each one, clamping down on him, even the slightest of withdrawals enough to ruin you. Fortunately for you, or not, Feyd-Rautha shows no interest in stopping, curling his fingers in and out of you with agonizing precision.

“We wanted to speak to you about tomorrow, actually,” Uriens says.

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes narrow. “What about it?”

“What —oh! What’s tomorrow?” You ask. As soon as you speak, Feyd-Rautha pushes another finger in to join the others, spurring your body to jerk in response. You suppress a shudder.

Uriens, Ze’ev, and Rabban look too intent to notice your falter. Uriens explains, albeit with less enthusiasm, “We want to partake.”

Feyd-Rautha’s jaw flexes. His pace slows as he considers this request, and it’s almost more torturous than his persistent thrusts.

“No,” he finally says.

Rabban’s face darkens with anger. “Why not?”

“Traditionally those who partake do so because they are interested in the hand of the wife.” His tone veers dangerously close to a growl. “Are you telling me that you wish to take her from me?”

Uriens eyes widen. “No, na-Baron, we —”

“We understand the ceremony is purely customary. We ask only for a chance to partake in the revelry,” Ze’ev cuts in.

“There is no killing,” Feyd-Rautha says.

Uriens and Ze’ev nod. “Yes, na-Baron.”

“Then I don’t see why you shouldn’t partake.”

You bite back a moan as Feyd-Rautha then resumes his ministrations. You ask, “What’s tomorrow?”

You’re impressed that you manage to keep your voice even.

The Harkonnens exchange glances as if they’re reluctant to answer you. The slight one, Ze’ev, says, “Dessid aperr. The Crucible.”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Feyd-Rautha says.

Your indignation overcomes your pleasure, and you glare at him. “It does if my hand in marriage is being fought over.”

“The Crucible is a ceremony dating back to Emperor Shakkad the Wise,” Uriens eagerly says, jumping to please you. “When a Harkonnnen of noble standing is to be wed, they will engage in a battle against the other noblemen for the hand of the bride. To ensure that the strongest bonds are forged.”

Feyd-Rautha pumps his hand violently against you, and you feel your orgasm building. You grip the chair even harder. “I would like to partake.”

“The brides are not permitted to watch,” Uriens says. Rabban and Ze’ev both glare at him.

“I don’t want to watch. I want to fight.”

“Absolutely not,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

“Why not?” You ask. You hope the breathy sound of your voice comes across as petulant and not aroused.

Rabban answers, “That’s how it’s always been.”

Feyd-Rautha glances at you. He must know that you’re close, can feel it in the way that you clamp around him. “Wife, is that what you want? Tell me.”

“Y-Yes,” you stammer.

He says, “Tell me that you want it.”

“I want it,” you breathe out, both of you aware of what he’s actually referencing.

More words form on your tongue but you’re unable to say it — your pleasure mounts as Feyd-Rautha buries his fingers inside you with swift finality and your orgasm seizes you. It’s white-hot and dazzling as it tears through you, walls contracting, his fingers stroking you to the end. A shudder racks through you.

Pulse hammering and your thighs trembling, Feyd-Rautha withdraws his fingers. He rises abruptly to his feet. Horror dawns on you as he then pushes his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. Without so much as glancing back at you, Feyd-Rautha says, “Very well. Don’t be late this time.”

You stare after him. The aftershocks of your orgasm rumble through you — you can’t believe that he just did that then left you to deal with the aftermath. Uriens and Ze’ev stare at you in equal parts confusion and shock, while Rabban sneers at you, seemingly more aware than you thought.

You clear your throat. “Well, that’s been settled.”

“Something has been settled,” Rabban replies. His expression is nearly impossible to read, but the comment makes your cheeks heat up.

“You hold considerable sway over the na-Baron,” Ze’ev says.

You stand, smoothing down your dress and trying to maintain some semblance of composure. It’s difficult when your thighs are still slick, the memory of his fingers imprinted in your mind.

“I will be the na-Baroness,” you remind Ze’ev. “I hold considerable sway over everyone here.”

And with that you leave without excusing yourself, feeling the burn of their gazes on your back. It’s suddenly too warm in the Great Hall for you, the sweaty, lingering bodies suffocating. You’re not quite sure where you’re going. Certainly not after Feyd-Rautha. Though you can’t stop the way that your heart skips hopefully when you feel a hand grab your arm.

“What are you doing?” Asha hisses, spinning you around. “The party isn’t over.”

Post-orgasm clarity is eluding you. You shake your head. “I know, but —”

“Also, what was that shit earlier?” Asha asks. She adjusts her hold on a tray laden with champagne glasses. “There was some weird tension in that room. Don’t involve me in your weird — whatever, with the na-Baron again. Do you hear me?”

You nod stupidly, although you’re not entirely sure it’s a promise you can make.

Asha studies you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “But I’m going to retire to my quarters. Can you cover for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Asha says, obviously not convinced.

You huff out a breath. “I’m going to need the rest if I’m participating in the Crucible tomorrow.”

Asha nearly drops the serving tray. “The what?”

“I’ve been invited,” you say, which is also a lie.

“What?” Asha presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “What is wrong with you, Y/N?”

To avoid her gaze, you take to scanning the party. You know perfectly well what’s wrong with you and you’re searching for his face even now, despite the fact that he’s the last person you want to see. You sigh. “I wish I could tell you.”

Part 5

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

theo raeken x reader with squirting 🫣🫣

☾ Theo raeken x afab!reader

smut warnings: p in v, afab!reader squirts, oral & fingering (afab!reader receiving), handjob, dom!Theo + sub!afab!reader (+ slight dom!afab!reader), begging.

word count: 1.5k

fluff masterlists - 2024

smut masterlists - 2024

Theo wants your attention. He's staying at your house for the night, but you're currently on the phone with Lydia for whatever reason Theo doesn't care about. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind and starts kissing your neck. Tapping on his arm lightly, you push him away, but he doesn't stop. He needs you now.  

You tap his arm again, trying to shuffle out of his grip as Lydia continues talking.

"Right, yeah, I know," you reply to her, glancing at Theo from over your shoulder. Theo chuckles softly, amused by your struggles. He places both hands on yours and gently moves them away from where they are hitting him. 

"Relax, babe," he whispers in your other ear before continuing to passionately mark up your neck. His fingers trail along your arms, sending electric shocks down to your core.

"Hey, Lydia? I gotta go, but we can talk later if you want?" you manage to croak out between gasps for air. Lydia had no problem getting off the phone, for she had things to attend to herself.

"God, you're so annoying," you sigh, rolling your head back against Theo's shoulder. 

Theo snickers playfully, "Well, someone has to keep things interesting around here." He sucks on your neck, leaving another little hickey just below the one he just made. His hand moves downwards, grabbing hold of your ass cheek through your shorts and giving it a firm squeeze. 

"Besides, I think we need some alone time anyway." With that said, he pulls you closer against him, his crotch pressing hard against yours, clearly indicating his intentions. He was indeed correct — the last time you did this was probably a good week and a half ago. You manage to get out of his strong hold, taking his hand and lead him to your bedroom. You're both lucky that your roommate is working, so privacy didn't really matter anyway.

"I thought a bed would be more comfortable than the kitchen counter," you chuckle teasingly, gently pushing him down on your bed after knocking the door closed with your foot.

Theo grins,"Oh really?" he asks, reaching down and starts undoing his pants, revealing his hardened member straining against his boxers. You nod and bite your lip in response.  

"Then come here and help me out of these," he demands, tugging at your shirt impatiently.

"Ah no, not after that little stunt you just pulled," you giggle teasingly, straddling his hips. You lean down, pressing kisses all over his neck while your hand travels from his chest to his cock. Your fingers lightly trace up and down the prominent vein of his length, your lips working at marking his neck in red and purple bruises. 

Theo growls lowly, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you continue to tease him. "You know you love it," he pants out between kisses. His own tongue darts out to trace along your collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva wherever it goes.

"Please, baby," he begs, his voice hoarse with desire. You wrap your fingers around his cock, slowly pumping your hand up and down teasingly. You know that's not what he meant, but you don't care. 

Theo groans loudly, his hips bucking upwards into your touch. "That's it, tease me," he groans again, arching his back in pleasure. As you continued to tease him, his hands reaches down and grabs ahold of your ass cheeks, holding you down tightly against his thighs. With each pump of your hand, his cock throbbed harder against your fingers, dripping with pre-cum. 

You swirl your index finger around his tip, collecting some of the precum on the tips of your fingers. "I'm not gonna play nice," you giggle, your tone as bratty as you can possibly make it. 

Theo bites his lower lip, clearly trying to control himself. "Oh really?" he asks, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Then prove it," he challenges back, nibbling on your neck again.

"You asked for it," you purr quietly, starting to pump your hand hard and fast, up and down his cock for a for moments. You take your hand off without warning, testing for any reaction. 

Theo's hips jerk upwards involuntarily, his cock throbbing harder against your hand. "Fuck," he curses out loud, unable to contain himself any longer. Grabbing hold of your wrists forcefully, he pulls you closer until his lips crash against yours in a heated kiss, taking control of the situation once more.

His tongue invades your mouth, exploring every crevice and corner, while his hands took advantage of your exposed waistline, undoing your shorts and panties together in one swift motion. He groans into the kiss as his free hand cupped your ass cheek again, squeezing it firmly before moving lower, teasingly caressing your tight entrance. You grind your wet folds against his hand, sighing into his mouth in pleasure. You let your hand toy with him again, holding his cock from the base, but not daring to move it yet.

Theo moans into your mouth, his fingers finding their way inside you slowly at first, working circles around your sensitive spot. As he felt how wet and ready you were for him, he increases the pace, thrusting his finger in and out of you forcefully.

"That's it, baby," he pants between kisses. "Tell me you need this."

"Theo," you whimper, giving in and dropping your almost-pathetic attempt at being dominant. Theo only smirks in response, pulling his fingers out. You whine at the loss of contact, but he's quick to have you on your back, legs over his shoulders as he shuffles down the bed. His pretty brown hair tickles the inside of your thighs, which only makes you whine more.

Your hands instantly find solace in his hair the second his tongue swipes up your wet folds. Theo chuckles, enjoying the sound of your neediness. 

"There we go," he purrs, positioning himself between your spread legs. With a playful grin, he lowers his head and buries his face into your pussy, suckling greedily at your clitoris while his hand reaches down to stroke your entrance.

His tongue continues to tease your sensitive flesh, tracing slow circles around your opening before finally pushing inside you inch by agonisingly slow inch. Meanwhile, his fingers rubs against your g-spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Theo," you gasp for air, hips writhing against his mouth as your fingers tugs lightly at his hair. "oh god," your eyes roll when his tongue switches between flicking and sucking your clit. 

Theo moans around your sensitive bud, his tongue circling and flicking it in rapid succession. His hand continued to work you relentlessly, thrusting two fingers deeper into your tight hole while massaging your g-spot skilfully.

"Tell me how much you want this cock inside of you," he demands between suckles. "Admit that you need my big cock filling every inch of your wet, hot pussy."

"Theo," you whimper, gasping for air as your hips grind against his mouth again. "Please, you need you so bad," your voice whining in desperation. Satisfied enough with your answer, Theo sits back on his knees and roughly turns you over so you're lying on your stomach. He picks your hips up, grabbing a pillow to shove under you for what you thought was more support.

Or so you thought. Theo's cock slowly enters into your tight pussy, stretching you so well. You whine, fingers clasping in the sheets beside you. He finally moves his hips, making your body rock against the pillow.

Theo groans, his hips moving in sync with yours, gradually increasing the pace. Each thrust brought another moan of pleasure from your lips as he claims you completely.

"That's it, baby," he pants, slapping your ass lightly.

"Oh my god," you whine, your eyes rolling in the utmost pleasure. Your breathing turns into quick, high-pitched pants with each thrust of his hips, the pillow below rocking nicely against your clit.

Theo increases the speed of his thrusts, pounding into you relentlessly. "Tell me how good it feels," he demands between heavy breaths.

"You're so tight and wet, you can't handle this," he moans, reaching down to massage your clit again as he continues to drive himself deeper inside you. His free hand grabs hold of your hair tightly, pulling your head backward so that your eyes locked in a passionate gaze with his.

"So...good.. oh my god," you manage to whimper and pant out. your body trembles in his hold, thighs shaking against the pillow as you suddenly cum. the sweet release hit harder than it ever has before — your mind so hazy, you couldn't even comprehend what's happening. The pillow between your thighs felt wet as Theo pulls out. Your body's limp against the mattress, lungs tight from barely breathing.

Though, you manage to hear Theo laughing with such smugness. "you just squirted," he says amusedly.

"Huh?" you pant, turning your head so your cheek rests against the sheets.

Theo chuckles, still panting heavily himself. "Yeah, baby," he said proudly.

"You're such a little squirter." he teases, reaching over to grab a fresh towel from your nightstand. He carefully wipes up the mess they had both made on your stomach and thighs.

"You did so well for me," he praises, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your sweaty body. "Now, let's clean up properly." With that said, he helps you sit upright and guides you to the bathroom, where he turns on the shower and adjusts the temperature for them both.

[atinyslittleworld]

Intensity

mafia boss!san x dom!reader

Summary: Mafia boss Choi San finally claims Y/N after months of chasing.

Word Count: 1,5k

Genre: 18+, MDNI, mafia

Warnigns: smut, dominant female, the word cock being mentioned

San leaned back in his leather chair, the dim ight of his office casting shadows across his sharp features. As the head of the most powerful mafia family in the city, he was used to getting what he wanted. And for the past three months, what he wanted was Y/N. She was a challenge, a fiery woman with a mind of her own, who had played hard to get and kept him on his toes. But tonight, he could feel the tension between them reaching a boiling point.

He glanced at the clock, the anticipation gnawing at him. Y/N was supposed to meet him soon, ostensibly to discuss a buisness proposal. But both of them knew there was more to it. They had danced around their mutual attraction for too long and tonight, San intended to take what he had been chasing.

A soft knock on the door broke his reverie. "Come in," he called, his voice a deep rumble. The door opened and Y/N stepped inside, her presence commanding the room. She wore a sleek black dress that clung to her curves in all the right places, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. Her eyes met his and a spark of electrcity passed between them.

"San," she greeted, her voice smooth and confident. She walked toward him, her hips swaying with each step. "You wanted to see me?"

San's eyes never left as he rose from his chair. "Yes, Y/N. I think it's time we stop pretending." He move closer, his gaze intense. "We've been dancing around this for months. I want you and I think you want me too."

Y/N's lips curled into a knowing smile. "You think?" she teased, stepping closer until their bodies were almost touching. "San, I've wanted you from the moment we met. But I needed to know if you were worth the chase."

San's breath hitched, his pulse quickening. "And?"

"And I think you are," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "But can you handle me ?"

Before he could respond, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a searing kiss. San groaned, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer. The months of tension and desire erupted in that kiss, a fierce battle for dominance. But San was no longer in control; Y/N had taken the reins.

She pushed him back until his legs hit the couch and he fell onto it, her body following him down. Her hands roamed his chest, deftly unbuttonng his shirt, her lips never leaving his. San's hands slid up her thighs, bunching up her dress, his touch igniting a fire within her.

Y/N broke the kiss, her eyes dark with lust as she straddled him, griding against his growing erection. "I hope you're ready, San," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. "Because I don't intend to hold back."

San's eyes widened in surprise and arousal. He had expected to take the lead, to dominate her as he did everyone else. But Y/N was different. She was a force of nature and he found himself captivated by her raw, untamed passion.

Y/N leaned in, her lips tracing a path down his neck, her teeth grazing his skin. San shuddered, his hands gripping her hips as she continued her assault. She rocked against him, her movements slow and deliberate, driving him wild with desire.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice strained. "You're going to be the death of me."

Y/N smirked, her hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his pants. "Maybe," she teased, her fingers deftly undoing his belt and zipper. "But what a way to go, hmm?"

She freed him from his pants, he hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. San's breath hitched, his eyes closing as she stroked him, her touch both firm and teasing. He was losing control and he loved it.

Y/N rose slightly, her hand guiding him to her entrance. She met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of lust and determinaton. "Look at me," she commanded, her voice leaving no room for agument.

San obeyed, his eyes locked on hers as she slowly lowered herself onto him. The sensation was almost too much to bear, her tight heat enveloping him, inch by agonzing inch. She took her time, savoring every moment, her eyes never leaving his.

When she was fully seated, she let out a breathy moan, her head falling back. "God, San," she breathed, her hands resting on his chest fo support. "You feel so good."

San's hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Y/N," he groaned, his voice raw with need. "Move."

Y/N's lips curles into a wicked smile. "With pleasure," she replies, her hips beginning to rock against him. She set a relentless pace, her movements bold and unapologetic. San's head fell back against the couch, his body overwhelmed by the intensity of her passion.

She rode him hard, her hips moving in a perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over them both. San could barely think, his world reduced to the sensation of Y/N's body moving against his, her moans and gasps driving him wild.

Y/N's hands, roamed his chest, her nails leaving red trails in their wake. She leaned forward, her lips capturing his in a fierce kiss, their tongues battling for dominance. San's hands slid up her back, holding her close as she moved, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

The sound of the office door slamming open barely registered in San's mind. One of his men, breathless and frantic, burst into th room. "Boss, we're under-"

But the man's words died in his throat as he took in the scene before him. Y/N, undeterred, continued to ride San with a ferocity that left no room for interruptions. San's eyes flashed with annoyance, but he didn't stop either.

"Handle it," he growled, his voice a command that brooked no argument. The man hesitated, but a sharp glare from San sent him scrambling to obey, the door slamming shut behind him.

Y/N laughed, a dark, sultry sound that sent shivers down San's spine. "Always in control, aren't you?" she teased, her hips never slowing.

San's hands gripped her hips tighter, his eyes locking onto hers. "Not tonight," he panted, his voice rough with desire. "Tonight, you're the one in control."

Y/N's smile was triumphant as she rode him harder, her body moving with a wild, unrestrained passion that left them both breathless. The sounds of chaos outside the office were a distant memory, their world reduced to the intense pleasure they were giving each other.

San felt his release building, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to unravel any moment. He could tell Y/N was close too, her movements becoming more frantic, her moans louder and more desperate.

"San," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm so close."

San's hands slid up her back, pulling her closer. "Cum for me, baby," he urged with a whisper. "I want to feel you cum around me."

Y/N's body tensed, her back arching as her orgasm crashed over her. She cried out his name, her inner walls clenching around him, pushing him over the edge. San groaned, his release surging through him, filling her with his heat.

They clung to each other, their bodies trembling with the afreshocks of their pleasure. Y/N's head rested on his shoulder, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. San's hand stroked her back, his touch gentle and soothing.

"Fuck, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and satisfaction, "That was..."

"Incredible," she finished, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were soft, her lips curved into a satisfied smile. "I've wanted that for so long."

San's thumb brushed over her cheek, his eyes filled with a rare tenderness. "Me too," he admitted, his voice low. "You drive wild, Y/N."

Y/N's smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Good," she replied, her tone teasing. "Beacause I'm not done with you yet."

San's eyebrows shot up in surprise and amusement. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered. "Round two. And this time, I want you to show me just how wild you can get."

San's blood roared in his ears, his body already responding to her words. "You're playing a dangerous game, baby," he warned, his voice a dark growl.

Y/N's laugh was low and sultry, her eyes sparkling with challenge. "Good," she replied. "I like danger."

San's hands tightened on her hips, his eyes blazing with renewed desire. "Then let's see how much you can handle," he said as he run his tongue across her neck.

[communicationthroughlyrics]

Red Wine and Roses

You just got home from a long day at work, excited to see your girlfriend, Lizzie. You anticipated her being busy making dinner for the both of you to kickstart your weekend, as per tradition. When you finally get home, she isn't making dinner- no. She has dessert ready for the main course.

TW: Smut, smut, and more smut. 18+ ONLY.

As you trudge up the steep hill toward your cozy little apartment, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement in your chest. Today was long and tiring, but it's all worth it. Because at the end of the day, one person is waiting for you, who makes all the stress and exhaustion fade away with just a smile. Your girlfriend, Lizzie, or Elizabeth Olsen as she is known to the world, and your bi-weekly Friday date night, where you both put away the phones, disconnect from the outside world and enjoy each other’s company over one of Liz’s homemade meals. She's the light in your life, the beat of your heart, and the breath in your lungs. The thought of seeing her face, her beautiful, familiar features, makes you quicken your pace, almost running up the final stretch of the hill.

You burst through the door, tossing your keys onto the entryway table, and almost trip over your own feet as you're met with darkness. Confused, you walk through the kitchen, seeing she is truly nowhere. But then you hear the faint panting coming from your bedroom, and your heart races as you worry about what you are about to walk in on.

You follow the sound, rounding the corner and finding Lizzie on her hands and knees in the center of the bedroom, dressed in a black lace bodysuit that hugs every curve, her long, dark hair falling around her face in a sexy mess. One hand is buried between her legs, her fingers knuckle deep within her wet sloshing heat, and the sounds filling the room from her arousal only further stimulated you. You groaned at the sight, quickly loosening your tie and unbuttoning your shirt. 

"Oh, you bad girl..." you groan as you head over to the bed where she lay, eyes pinched shut. You kneel beside her, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from her cheek. She looks up at you through lust-filled eyes, her lips parted as she pants for air. "You've been so naughty, haven't you? You couldn’t even wait for dinner.” You tease, gently tracing a finger along her lower lip.

She nods eagerly, arching her back as her hips buck forward into her hand. "Oh, please..." she whispers, her voice shaking with desire. You can feel the heat emanating from her body, and you can't help but admire how she's taken control of this situation. Lizzie has always been such a tease, but tonight she's taken it to a whole new level.

Without further hesitation, you reach out and gently push her hand away from her aching core. "No more," you growl, your voice husky with lust. "It's my turn." She lets out a moan of protest, but you ignore it, instead guiding her to lie down on the bed. She writhes beneath you, her body thrumming with need as you undo your pants, freeing the strap you had put on in anticipation for tonight. The toy springs free, ready for her. You grin down at her, enjoying the way she looks at you with such desire, and position yourself between her legs. "Are you sure you want this?" You ask, teasingly, as you stroke the length of the fake cock against her wet folds.

She gasps, arching her back off the bed, her nails digging into your shoulders. "Please," she breathes, her hips bucking up to meet your thrust. "I need it." You can feel the heat radiating off her, and the way she's panting for you, begging for release. You press the head of the toy against her entrance, feeling her body tighten in anticipation. With a growl, you thrust it inside her, filling her up with the cold, silicone length.

Her nails scrape down your back, her hips moving in time with yours, urging you deeper. You lose yourself in the feel of her body, the tightness of her around you, the wet heat that envelops you as you begin to move. You glance down at her face, watching her expression as she comes, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes squeezed shut. You can't help but smile as she writhes beneath you, her body shuddering with pleasure.

Her movements grow more frenzied as she feels herself getting closer and closer to the edge. You feel the tension as her inner walls grip the toy tightly, her muscles tensing and releasing in time with her gasps and moans. You can tell she's about to explode, and with one final thrust, you feel her body tense and shudder as she comes undone. Her cries echo through the room, filling your heart with warmth.

You slow your movements, taking in the sight of her flushed face and sweaty body. She looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, her lips still parted from the exertion. You can feel the warmth emanating from her core, where the toy is still buried deep inside. "You're so beautiful when you come," you whisper, brushing a stray hair away from her damp forehead.

She lets out a shaky breath, her hands moving to your shoulders as she pulls you closer. "That was... intense," she whispers, her voice still unsteady. "I didn't think I could take any more." You smile down at her, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way she's responded to you. You begin to rock your hips gently, careful not to push too deep just yet.

Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parted as she takes in a deep breath. "You feel so good," she whispers, her hands curling into the sheets beneath her. "I never thought..." She trails off, lost in the sensation of your skin moving against hers. You can feel her body begin to relax, her muscles softening as she lets go of the tension from earlier.

You continue to rock your hips, matching your movements to hers, feeling the warmth between your bodies grow as you become more intimate. Her breath hitches as you brush against a particularly sensitive spot inside her, and she arches her back off the bed, her fingernails digging into your shoulder. "Oh, god," she gasps, her hips moving in time with yours. "Don't stop."

Her words fuel your desire, driving you deeper into the sensation of being connected to her. You can feel the strength of your arousal building, the need to release it growing with each passing moment. You glance down at her, watching her face as she looks up at you, her eyes glassy with desire.

Her body moves with yours, her hips meeting your thrusts in perfect rhythm. Her nails dig into your back, leaving trails of pleasure and pain that only serve to heighten the sensation for both of you. You can feel her body tensing, preparing for the release that's building within her.

You look down at her face, watching as she bites her lip, her eyes half-closed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. You slow your movements, taking in the sight of her flushed skin and sweat-dampened hair. She looks up at you, her expression a mix of desire and vulnerability that makes your heartache.

With a groan, you thrust deep inside her, feeling the tightness of her body as she wraps herself around you. Her nails scrape down your back, her hips moving in time with yours, urging you deeper. You can feel the tension building within her, the anticipation of release coiling tightly in her core.

You press your lips to hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin. Her tongue darts out, seeking entry to your mouth, and you eagerly let her in, tasting the sweetness of her as you move together. Her body arches beneath you, her fingers digging into your shoulders as she comes undone.

Her cries fill the room, echoing off the walls as her body shudders with pleasure. You feel the ripples of her orgasm through your own body, and with a growl, you follow her over the edge. Your release is intense, your thrusts becoming erratic as you lose yourself in the sensation of being so deeply connected to her.

You collapse on top of her, panting, your heart racing. Her arms are wrapped around you, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure. You feel the weight of your exhaustion settling heavily upon you, but you're not ready to let go quite yet. You roll to the side, pull her into your embrace, and close your eyes, savoring the warmth of her skin against yours.

You feel a contentment spread through you that you haven't experienced in a long time. The world outside this room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, connected in this moment. Her breathing slowly begins to steady, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving her body. You gently stroke her hair, tracing idle patterns on her shoulder.

"That was... intense," she whispers, her voice still slightly shaky. "I can't remember the last time I felt... like that."

You press a tender kiss to her forehead, reluctant to break the silence that has fallen between you. "Me neither," you admit, knowing that it's true. There's something special about her, about this connection that you share. You don't want to think about what happens when this is over when she has to go back to her life and you're left alone again.

She turns her head to look at you, her eyes meeting yours. "Thank you," she says simply. "For everything."

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you more, Y/N. You're my world."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had expected her to be grateful, of course, but hearing the sincerity in her voice makes it all the more real. You want to say something, anything to make this moment last forever, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you press your lips to hers, hoping that the passion you feel will convey everything that you can't find the words for.

Her lips part beneath yours, and you feel a shiver run through her body as you deepen the kiss. Her hands move up to cup your face, her fingertips trailing lightly over your cheeks and into your hair. She pulls you closer, their bodies molded together once more as if they were always meant to be this way.

The room spins, and for a moment, you're lost in the sensation of her lips against yours. It feels like the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you and the connection that binds you together. As the passion between you reaches a fever pitch, you realize that you don't want it to end, that you never want to be apart from her again.

Her body arches beneath yours, her breath hitching in her throat as she moans into your mouth. Her nails scrape down your back, leaving tiny trails of pain that only serve to heighten the pleasure coursing through your veins. She's soft and warm, and every touch only intensifies the need that you feel deep within.

You pull away from the kiss, gazing down at her flushed face and beautiful eyes. You can see the desire in her expression, the need for you that mirrors your own. You trail your fingers lightly down her neck and over her collarbone, feeling the soft skin beneath your fingertips.

She gasps as you brush against a particularly sensitive spot, arching her back further and pressing herself closer. Her hips begin to move of their own accord, seeking the contact she craves. You follow her lead, guiding the strap against her wetness, feeling the heat of her body against yours.

Her lips find your neck, and she begins to kiss and nip at your skin, her breath hot against your flesh. You can feel the need growing inside of her, building with each passing moment, and you know that you're just as close to the edge as she is. You slide your hand between them, guiding her over the swollen head of your toy, feeling her wetness as she spreads her desire around you.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded, and you can see the anticipation in every line of her body. You can feel the tension building inside of you, the need to be inside her, to feel the connection that only their bodies can create.

You push forward, the head of your strap pressed against her entrance. She gasps, arching her back further, her hands moving up to grip your shoulders as she prepares for the invasion of her body. She lets out a moan that is both pained and pleasure, and you know that she feels it too.

Her nails dig into your shoulders as she meets your rhythm, her hips moving in time with yours, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You look down at her face, watching as she bites her lip, her eyes half-closed, her skin flushed with desire. You can feel the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment, and you know that there's no going back from this.

You press deeper, feeling her body move against yours, her tightness surrounding you like a glove. Her cries fill the room, echoing off the walls as she comes undone beneath you. You feel the ripples of her orgasm through your own body, and with a groan, you follow her over the edge. Your release is intense, your hips bucking wildly as you stutter the toy into her.

Her nails dig into your back, her legs wrap around your hips, and her body arches into you as she meets your climax. You collapse on top of her, panting, your heart racing. Her breath comes out in shuddering gasps as she tries to catch her own, her skin flushed with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion.

You pull out of her, rolling to the side so that you're lying beside her. Her arm comes up to drape across your chest, her hand resting lightly on your stomach. You look down at her, taking in the softness of her skin, the curve of her breast, the way her hair falls across her face. You don't want to move, don't want this moment to end.

You feel a sense of contentment wash over you as if everything in the world has finally fallen into place. It's not just the physical connection that binds you to her, but the emotional one as well. You feel as though you've known her for lifetimes, as though you were always meant to be together.

She looks up at you, her eyes still heavy from their shared passion, and smiles. "That was... incredible," she breathes.

You nod, unable to find the words to adequately describe what just happened between you.

She reaches up, cupping your cheek in her hand. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice soft and sincere. "For being with me tonight." Her thumb gently strokes your cheekbone, sending shivers down your spine.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm always here for you, Lizzie. You know that." You lean in, brushing your lips against hers in a gentle kiss. Her lips part, and you feel her tongue against yours, a tentative exploration that deepens the kiss. Your hands slide down her back, cupping her bottom, pulling her closer. You groan as she pulls away all too fast for your liking.

"Nuh uh, Y/N. Now we have a dinner to eat." You smirk at her comment.

"But, I thought you weren't supposed to have dessert before dinner?"

She laughs, the sound low and husky. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I hope you're still hungry after all that." You can feel the weight of her meaning behind the words, and it makes your heart race. 

You stand up and offer her your hand, pulling her to her feet. She links her fingers through yours, and the simple touch sends a rush of warmth through your body. You follow her into the kitchen, where she's set up a candlelit table with a platter of lasagna in the center. "Smells amazing," you tell her, leaning in to kiss her neck as she pours you some wine.

She shivers at the contact, her breath hitching. "Thanks. I hope it tastes as good as it smells." You take your seat across from her, savoring the way she looks in the candlelight. Her hair falls around her face in soft waves, and her eyes sparkle with excitement. As you begin to eat, the conversation flows easily between you, touching on the highlights of your day and your plans for the weekend. This life was all you could wish for. 

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Welp now I'm imagining Viktor's S/O teasing him on how he's an old man so Viktor takes that as a challenge. He's going to make sure his S/O can't walk straight and he's going to enjoy every minute of it.

A/n: The amount of work he does, you just know he has high stamina .

Side-note: i apologize if this sucks

Viktor wasn't deaf, he heard the whispers of the men that stepped into Lackadaisy when they found out you were with him.

The amount of men you'd turn down with a forced smile. You used to be polite but it had gotten to a point where you'd had to ask him to step in so they leave him alone.

But he'd never thought you'd start teasing him about his age. Yes he was older than you, yes he was confused to why someone as sweet as you would ever want to be with him though he was a little confused to why you were teasing him now, his eye narrowed as he watched you and Mitzi talk about something.

"When I really want Viktor to tire me out, all I have to do is tease him about his age....I think he takes it as s challenge."

Mitzi sighed, as she gave you a playful smile tipping her head to the side. "Is this your way of telling me that he won't be in tomorrow?"

"Yup!" Grinning you slid off the seat. "Oh Viktor!"

Working his jaw, Viktor did not say a word as he lifted you onto your shoulders. It did not take long for you two be out of the establishment then towards the little apartment you shared with the Slavic.

A low rumble escaped his chest as he placed you down on the bed. "For you moja láska, I will have the stamina of a hundred men" He murmur huskily against your lips, slipping his hands down to caress your soft curves.

Hovering over you, Viktor let out a small growl, nipping at your plump bottom lip as he felt your body press into.

Hearing your whimpers, he continued to ravish your neck with open-mouthed kisses, unable to hold back his need and passion any longer. "By the time I'm done with you miláčik, you will be so full of my seed there will be no doubt our child is on the way."

He promise between feverish bites, already aching to claim you wholly as only he can.

Pulling away for a moment, looking deep into your loving eyes darkened with your own passionate desire for him, Viktlr caressed your cheek. "You are so beautiful."

Your pleas and whimpers driving him to the brink of madness with want for you.

"You have no idea how crazy you make me moja láska..."He growl hungrily, starting to undo the buttons of her blouse at feverish speed.

His breath hitches at the tempting feel of your soft lips against his neck, a low groan escaping him as lust and need surge dangerously close to snapping my already thinning control. It was maddening with how you were teasing him, you knew how to push his buttons and he loved it.

"miláčik, you're making this infinitely harder for me..."He growled, capturing your lush mouth in a bruising, fiery kiss as his hands gripped your hips firmly, grinding you against his aching hardness. You moan wantonly into his mouth as he ravished you greedily, drinking in your taste.

Pulling away slightly to gaze down at your debauched form quivering with desire, he let out a choked curse. flipping you over roughly as his hands rip your clothes off in a frenzy.

Lifting your hips, he position myself at your slick entrance before slamming home in one deep thrust, making you both cry out in bliss. "You asked for this moja láska..." He warned through clenched teeth, setting an unrelenting pace that has the bed creaking under the movements.

Viktor gripping your tail tightly, fucking you mercilessly as you takes it all with eager mewls and whimpers, the sounds of your flesh slapping together and your sweet gasps filling the room. He pounds harder, giving you only what he wants, taking you with a possession that belongs to him alone.

His name tears itself from your throat over and over amidst increasingly incoherent pleas as your climax grips you, triggering his own brutal release deep inside your womb. He bites down fiercely on your shoulder to muffle my his, emptying every last drop to ensure you carrying his child.

Panting heavily, he turns you spent, sated form to face him, eyes and hearts overflowing with love. "Mine..." He whispers, against your lips, branding you again as eternally, solely what belongs to Viktor Vasko.

[sugar-grigri]

Crazy theory, but since I don't really read them, I don't know if it's ever been mentioned before.

I've already talked about this urge to discover the demon of death. So much so that fans see them in every new character introduced.

We know that Pochita punctuates both the birth and death of demons with his chainsaws.

I've always been surprised by the way Pochita calmly took hold of Makima, allowing Denji to knowingly save her by recommending that he give her love

Just as I'm surprised by Fami's interest in separating Chainsaw Man just as Yoru is stubbornly intent on revenge

How can these three horsemen of the apocalypse have so much interest and connection with a single demon?

We already know that Fujimoto has opted for the metaphorical, choosing the instrument designed for childbirth: the chainsaw, as the keystone of his story.

Chainsaw Man is intrinsically linked to birth and death

Denji's rebirth alone is linked to death having been cut up as well as Pochita?

Demons are born out of fear of one thing, so I know it might be strange that Pochita, representing chainsaws, represents death and isn't the chainsaw demon.

But two things: firstly, the impostor is actually the real chainsaw demon.

Fujimoto likes to undo our first impressions, so I find it absolutely INCREDIBLE that Denji should be the impostor from the start, the false Chainsaw Man in a part 2 that focuses on identity.

Secondly, how can simple chainsaws have so much power? I mean, sure, they're scary, but how can they have so much power as to be able to wipe out demons? Why should it be the chainsaw demon who's capable of this, and death remains crouched in the shadows?

This would also explain his promiscuity with the other Knights of the Apocalypse.

The demon of control wanted to play with Pochita - death was the only thing she couldn't totally control, the only thing she aspired to be on an equal footing with.

If Pochita understood her so well, it was as the fourth knight of the apocalypse. If Makima considered him her equal, it was because she couldn't control a demon she knew to be of her own rank. The logic follows with Nayuta.

The demon of war doesn't accept death, it accepts to spread it through conflicts and weapons of mass murder, but a general doesn't accept that death can touch him too. To spread death represents victory, to be touched by it a defeat that demands vengeance.

Famine works hand in hand with death, and is feared because suffering and death are the end result of not being able to eat. She's the one with the clearest goal at the moment: to save humanity. She doesn't hesitate to recruit her fellow Apocalypse members, whether it's proposing it to Nayuta, trying to recruit Asa and Yoru, or splitting Chainsaw Man in two to work with the pure state of the death demon.

The public hunters' aim is also to protect mankind from Nostradamus' prophecy, but by paralyzing death's actions as much as possible. They exploit Denji's flaws and desire to be normal to the full, threatening those around him. While the church, represented by Fami, titillates Denji's heroic side, his abnormalities, they want death to act.

It would also explain why everyone close to Denji is disappearing.

All the signs are pointing to Asa's imminent atrocity.

Wouldn't it be incredible to think that it's because death is in Denji's belly ?

Everything would then make sense: it's normal for Denji's development to stagnate, and for him to go through so many existential crises.

He doesn't know his own identity

What's more, it doesn't contradict my most meta theories: Fujimoto places himself in the work through Denji (cf. chapter 133), just as he responds directly to his fans (chapters 136 and 137).

We're all hating him, seeing all our favorite characters meet unfortunate deaths

It would all make sense if the manga we were holding in our hands, "Chainsaw Man", actually referred directly to death right from the start.

It would all make sense if we saw Part 1 as Denji's introduction to the ranks of hunters governed by an early death.

It would make sense for Aki's love for him to be a metaphor for accepting death, in the continuity of mourning.

It would make sense for Power to be reassured by Death when traumatized by the demon of darkness: she died twice for love, and the total disappearance of body and spirit allows us to escape the darkness.

I don't know if this theory holds, but let's agree...

It's poetic

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Lady P3

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Melimina (Betrothal) Rating - 18 + nudity / naughty / kissing / possessive Jace / eating out / licking /sucking / wet / squirting / hair pulling / nipple play / nipple sucking / 'mine' / tongue fucking / orgasm denial / orgasm control Word Count - 2430

Jacaerys eyes roved over her bare body, taking in every inch of her before gently laying her down on the bed.

Melimina squealed a little and Giggled, her skin against his black sheets, her hair sprayed out around her

"You look perfect..." he murmured, his eyes roaming over her body. He could feel his desire growing stronger, yet he wanted to take his time with her, to worship and savor every moment he spent with her. He knelt down next her on the bed, his eyes still drinking in the sight of her, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to do to her, the way he wanted to make her scream his name. But first he needed to be sure. He leant down to her, his hand gently tracing the contour of her face, his voice soft yet firm. "Are you really sure about this, my dear? There's no turning back once we start this."

"... I am sure my prince... We have waited as betrothals long enough, my..." She gasped "my Maidenhead is yours my love"

His heart skipped a beat at her words, a primal hunger building in him at the thought of claiming her for the first time. He leaned in closer, his mouth hovering over hers, his voice a low, possessive whisper. "And once I claim it, it will be mine forever." He moved closer, his body hovering over hers, his hands roaming over her bare skin in soft, worshipping touches. His lips trailed from her jaw down to her neck, kissing a path along her collarbone, his breath hot on her skin.

she giggled slightly her hands stroking down his hair before she began to slightly fiddle with the buttons of his double

He chuckled, his own hands still caressing her bare skin. He could feel himself growing more and more aroused, his breaths growing heavy with desire, and yet he wanted her to take her time, to tease him as he teased her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, my sweet little lady?"

"just... Curious"

He chuckled again, his fingers tracing along her collarbone. He knew exactly what she was doing, and yet he didn't stop her. He loved how her hands felt on him, the way she was slowly undressing him bit by bit. "And what is it that you are oh so curiously trying to uncover?"

"you." She answered simply undoing a few buttons on his doublet

He smirked, his eyes locked on hers as she slowly unbuttoned his doublet, each button undone revealing a little more of his bare chest. He could see the curiosity and desire in her eyes, and it only aroused him even more. "And are you enjoying what you're uncovering so far?"

she nodded "... Why no undershirt my prince? That's rather improper for a prince isn't it? Rather naughty" she threw back at him as she fully undid it sliding her hands over his bare chest slightly pushing it off his shoulders

He chuckled at her comment, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath as her hands roamed across his bare skin. "Improper indeed... " he agreed, his voice thick with desire. "But I find I can't help myself... You make me feel..." He leaned in, his lips hovering over hers, his voice a whisper against her mouth. "A little naughty." He leaned down, his body now hovering over hers, his bare chest pressed against her soft, bare skin. The feeling of their flesh against each other was like fire, igniting a primal need within him that was growing harder and harder to control. His lips found hers in a fierce, ravenous kiss, his tongue invading her mouth in a possessive dance. His hands roamed her body, his touch firm, possessive as he pulled her close, leaving her no doubt in his mind who he intended to claim as his own.

she moaned into his kiss her hands stroking up his bare back

He grinned against her mouth, the sound of her moan driving him to further possessiveness. His hands continued to roam her body, worshipping every inch of her soft, bare skin, his touch firm and possessive, yet filled with a desperate need to have her, to claim her as entirely and utterly his own. "Gods..." he murmured, his mouth leaving her lips to travel down her neck, his voice thick with desire. "You drive me into madness... I need you... I need you now..."

"you have no need to wait my prince" she nodded

His eyes darkened, his desire nearing the breaking point. He wanted her, he needed her, and he wasn't going to wait a moment longer. He moved closer to her, his body settling between her thighs, his weight pressing down on her as he looked into her eyes. His hands roamed over her body, caressing her soft flesh, his touch possessive and desperate. "Say you're mine... Say it again."

"I am yours my prince..."

He growled, his body responding to her words, his desire heightened at the sound of her submission. He leaned back slightly, his hands gripping her hips, his voice thick with need. "Mine..." he said, his eyes roving over her naked body, taking in every inch of her. "Every inch of you... Every part of you... Mine, and mine alone."

"yes my prince. All yours every inch, every part, everything is yours my prince. Your future bride. Your future queen. All I am is yours"

He couldn't hold back any longer. Her words, her submission, it was too much. His body trembled with desire, with the need to possess her, to claim her as his own. He lowered himself down on top of her, his body covering hers, his face level with hers as he stared into her eyes, his voice a low, possessive growl. "You're mine... My future queen, my future bride, my precious little lady... And tonight, I'm going to make you mine completely."

she nodded "yes jacaerys."

He smirked at her eager agreement, his hands roaming over her body, his touch rough and possessive. He knew that once he started, there would be no turning back for either of them. They would cross a line that could not be undone. But he no longer cared. He needed her. He had to claim her. He had to make her his in every possible way. He lowered his mouth to her ear, his voice a low, possessive whisper. "Close your eyes..."

she did as he asked and closed her eyes leaning her head back against the bed

He hovered over her for a moment, taking in the sight of her body, her eyes closed, her head thrown back, completely exposed and vulnerable to him. He felt a rush of desire and possessiveness wash over him, and he knew that he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to make her his. Right. Now. "Keep your eyes closed. I want you to feel everything. Every touch, every caress, every moment. Focus on nothing but me. I want you to be completely at my mercy."

"yes jacaerys" she nodded "as you command my prince"

He smirked at her obedience, his hands still roaming her body, touching, caressing, claiming, his touch rough and possessive. He started with her neck, his lips and teeth gently nipping and sucking the soft skin, marking her as his. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down her collarbone, then further down her torso, marking a path from her neck to her chest, As his mouth continued its descent, his hands continued roaming over her body, exploring every inch of her skin, his touch possessive yet gentle. He wanted her to feel his desire, his need to possess her, but he also wanted her to feel the worship in his touch, the way he revered and adored every part of her. His mouth finally reached the soft, sensitive flesh below her hips, and he lingered there for a moment, his hands gripping her thighs, his breath hot on her lips.

she gasped and slightly whined,

His breath hitched at the sound of her gasp, her whine, her body responsive to his touch in a way that aroused him even more. He took his time, his hands and mouth worshipping her thighs, marking them as his, his touch firm, possessive, and eager to claim her completely. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her body reacting to his touches, and he knew that she was his, completely and utterly his.

she trembled her thighs in his hands, already she began to squirm he hips against the bed, and slowly leak out her wetness,

He noticed her trembling, and his own arousal spiked in response. He loved seeing her like this, seeing her body respond to him so openly, so honestly. He wanted more, he needed more. His mouth left her thighs and moved higher, trailing up her body, his kisses moving from her hips to her stomach, and then higher still, his tongue flicking against her tender flesh. He could feel her tremble beneath him, her body responding to his touch, and he knew that she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. He continued trailing kisses up her body, until his mouth reached her chest.

she arched her back and squealed his name as he kissed her there gripping his hair as he clearly found a spot she liked

He smirked against her body. He could hear the gasp, the arch of her back, the way she gripped his hair. He loved it, he loved how responsive she was to him, how she was his and his alone. He continued his assault on her breasts, his mouth and tongue teasing and tormenting her, his hands roaming over her body, possessive and desperate to claim her completely.

she moaned and screamed as he kissed and licked her little sensitive nipples watching her melt so perfectly for his touch, as she squirms on the bed in pleasure already squirting from his torment

he felt a jolt of white-hot desire and possessiveness. It was all the proof he needed that she was his. His alone. Completely and utterly his. His mouth continued its torment on her chest, his hands firmly grasping her hips, holding her in place as he pushed her toward the brink of ecstasy.

"jacaerys please!" She screamed

He loved the way his name sounded on her lips when her voice was filled with such need, such desperation. He could feel her body quivering beneath him, on the very edge of cum "What is it, my love? What do you want?" he asked, his mouth still tormenting her breasts, his hands still gripping her hips

"I'll - ill- if you don't stop"

He chuckled against her skin, his hands tightening his grip on her hips. He could tell by the way she writhe beneath him, that she was so painfully close to cum. And he wasn't about to stop anytime soon. "You'll what, little lady? Say it."

"I'll... Cum." She begged

He grinned against her skin, his hands running up and down her hips, his mouth still working its torment on her breasts. "Good. That's exactly what I want." He said, his voice low, rough, and filled with need. His mouth began to move lower still, trailing a path down her stomach, his hands still gripping her hips, holding her in place as he continued his descent.

she gasped fast, her back arching as she begs the lower his kisses get

He loved hearing her gasp, the way her back arched as his kisses moved lower and lower, getting closer to the most sensitive part of her body. He loved how her body responded to his touch, how eager and desperate she was for him. He continued his descent, his hands still gripping her hips, his mouth getting torturously close to her most sensitive spot. He smirked pulling her thighs apart even more as he looked over her depeate aching cunt. His lips were practically millimeters away from her, and he could feel her body quivering with need, her breathing ragged and labored. He wanted nothing more than to taste her, to claim her completely. "Tell me you're mine," he said, his voice a low, rough whisper against her skin. "Say it. Say that you're mine."

"I'm all yours jacaerys... Please"

He groaned at the sound of her words, the admission that she belonged to him and only him. It was what he wanted, what he needed to hear. He was consumed with a primal need to possess her, to know that she was entirely and utterly his. He leaned down, his mouth closing the distance between him and the sensitive flesh, his tongue delving into her, exploring, tasting, claiming. He wanted her to feel his possession, his desire, his need to make her his in every possible way.

she screamed his name loudly her back arching, her lips open as she lets out animalistic moans, her hands twisting into his dark curls

He loved the sound of his name on her lips, the way she arched her back, the way her moans echoed through the room. His hands continued to grip her hips, holding her in place as his tongue explored her, tasting her, possessing her, marking her as his he licked her clit, tasted her juices even slipped his tongue inside her. He wanted her to know that she belonged to him, that he was completely and utterly obsessed with her.

she screamed and tried to squirm against his grip as she began to beg and plead,

He felt her attempts to squirm against his grip, and held her in place even tighter, his tongue continuing its assault on her most sensitive area, driving her closer and closer to the edge. "Not yet, my little lady..." he said, his voice a low, rough whisper against her flesh. "Not until I say you can."

"please! Please! Please my prince! Jacaerys please!" She screamed

He could feel her desperation, her pleading, and the way she called his name, my prince, my prince, only fueled his desire to possess her completely. He continued his assault on her body, his tongue working its magic, bringing her to the edge, but not giving her the cum she craved. "Not yett... You'll have your cum when I say you can. You're mine, and you'll listen to me, won't you?"

"I can't stop it please!" She screamed

He could feel her body trembling, on the very edge, her screams and pleas only fueling his own desire. Without warning, he suddenly pulled away, his mouth leaving her body as he looked up at her from between her thighs. "Not yet, my little lady. You don't have permission to cum. Hold it. Hold it until I say you can."

she screamed "please jacaerys... Please... Please... Mercy my master!"

[shalomniscient]

Helloo!! Could i req some powerbottom ruan mei x subtop reader🤭🤭🤭

oh look at the time !! it’s feral o’clock

any way you want me, baby || ruan mei x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. cunnilingus, cum eating (?), mentions of a strap-on

notes. took a while but it's here :)) a little short but life is starting to come for my ass again and i wanted to get this request done before things get too hectic

It’s no secret that in your relationship, Ruan Mei is the more ‘controlling’ one. Not in the sense that she dictates your life, but in her decisiveness. Ruan Mei is a woman who above all else knows what she wants, and what she wants she will get.

And right now, what she wants is you.

She makes her desire very well known as she grabs you by the collar and pulls you in for a burning, greedy kiss before you’ve even fully stepped into your shared room. Her teeth scrape your lower lip and you groan, your hands finding her waist as she plunders your mouth with zealous, almost giddy abandon. When you pull apart, your lips feel tingly and your heart beats like a drum in your chest.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you begin, running your hands up and down her waist, your thumbs smoothing over the softness of her stomach, “but what was that for?”

Ruan Mei looks at you with hooded, turquoise eyes, her arms looping around your neck. “I want you to fuck me,” she declares boldly, and your hands still.

“Oh,” you say. Ruan Mei’s gaze is inquisitive as she anticipates your answer, but you know she knows it already. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Your girlfriend preens in your arms, then takes your hand and drags you to the bed. You follow, obediently, and topple onto her as she lets herself fall backward onto the bed. She throws her arms around your neck again and kisses you like before, making a pleased noise as you slot yourself between her thighs, her dress bunching up to her waist.

You know the drill, so you work quickly to divest her of her clothing. Your practiced hands undo the delicate laces holding her dress together easily, and you gently tug it down and off. You let out a breathless sigh as the expanse of her body is revealed to you, a sight you will never get tired of. Ruan Mei is all sloping curves and soft edges; as one might expect from a scientist who spends all her time in her lab.

You undo her bra with one hand then toss it over your shoulder. Ruan Mei shudders as her nipples are exposed to the cool air, then moans when your mouth descends on her breasts next. You lave your tongue over the stiff bud, dragging your teeth along the soft flesh. Ruan Mei’s fingers wind tightly in your hair, and she tugs your head to her other breast. You let her set the pace, content to let her guide you along.

You lather her other breast with the same attention, until she’s pushing your head lower, down her chest and along the soft expanse of her stomach. You suck purple marks into her pale skin as you go, marking her up the way you know she loves. Down and down you go until you reach her soft, cotton underwear. There's a visible wet patch, and it makes your mouth water.

"So wet, baby," you murmur, running a finger along the drenched fabric. The slightest bit of pressure makes it cling to her soaked lower lips, and your blood runs hot in your veins. Ruan Mei makes a pleased noise above you, then throws one of her legs over your shoulder, her heel digging into your back to pull you closer.

"Hurry up," she says, almost petulantly, and you laugh.

"As you wish," you say obligingly, dragging her ruined underwear down her legs and letting it join the pile of discarded clothing on your bedroom floor. Ruan Mei sighs as your warm breath fans over her exposed cunt, turning into a breathless moan when you drag your tongue along her slit, from her slick hole to her stiff clit. Wetness smears your lips, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

You shuffle forward, burying your face further between her legs, your hands hooking beneath her thighs to hold her hips firmly in place as you devour her. Pleasure runs down your spine like a trailing finger as Ruan Mei's nails scratch at your scalp, the sting of your hair being pulled sharp yet enjoyable all the same. Her cunt gushes slick as your tongue laps it up eagerly, occasionally probing into her warmth, while your nose nudges against her clit.

"Keep going," Ruan Mei orders, turquoise eyes stormy with lust as she looks down at you between her legs. "Don't you dare stop."

As if you would, you think, but you don't say since you're too busy eating her cunt like a woman starved. Wet sounds of your tongue working in and out of her echo in the bedroom, utterly debauched. Ruan Mei's moans and whines increase in pitch as she heads for that peak, and you work faster, ignoring the beginnings of the burn in your jaw.

"Yes, yes, yes, just like that, just like that--" she whimpers, and Aeons you could get drunk off the sound alone. You're dripping into your own underwear at this point, squeezing your thighs together and dizzy with lust as Ruan Mei squirms under your skilled tongue. All it takes is one last harsh lick against her twitching cunt before she's arching off the bed, thighs closing around your head as she cums with a loud cry.

You don't let up your ministrations even as your jaw aches, practically drinking the slick that gushes from her hole with gentle kitten licks. You only draw back when Ruan Mei's hand loosens in your hair and she pushes your head back. Your face is smeared with wetness, along your lips and down to your chin, and Ruan Mei runs her fingers along your cheek, gathering it on her fingertips before applying the slightest touch on your lips. You understand immediately, and part your lips, letting her wipe her own cum into your waiting mouth.

Once she's 'cleaned' your face up enough, she urges you up the bed with a soft hum. She kisses you again, and though it's less intense than before, you know her well enough to know she's far from done for tonight. And sure enough, once she's caught her breath, she gives you your next order.

"Strip," she commands. "I want you to use the strap-on, now."

And who were you to deny your girlfriend's request?

The two of you end up going at it until the early hours of the morning, before collapsing into an exhausted yet very satisfied sleep. You're a little sore when you wake up, and incredibly thirsty. Next to you, Ruan Mei is still dead asleep, bundled beneath the covers. In these fleeting moments she somehow feels more human; with her hair askew and her mouth slightly parted in her sleep.

She doesn't stir when you slowly extract yourself from the blankets or when you press a soft kiss to her forehead, before slipping on an old t-shirt and heading out of the room in search of a drink. Your feet take you to the fridge, where you pour yourself a glass of cold water, but before you can down your drink a quiet chirp distracts you.

You spin around, and on the kitchen counter is some sort of creature halfway between a cake and a cat. It chirps at you again, and you notice the 'cake' of its body is the same turquoise blue as Ruan Mei's eyes.

You also notice, almost dropping your glass, that this little creature has your eyes.

(Distantly, you wonder if this is what got her so excited last night--the successful creation of a lifeform that is a mix of you and her, perhaps the greatest physical representation of your closeness.

...

...you're going to need something stronger than cold water to process this one.)

[mangaken]

Create this one shot Au where Jimmy befriended a weird kid named Timmy.. As they grew closer, he learned that Timmy was abused by his babysitter daily and ignored by his parents.. Jimmy doesn't want to see his friend hurt, so he tries to take this matter into his own hands..

He did succeed, driven away the babysitter by putting her out of commission indefinitely (ruined her reputation & almost killed her too). Timmy's parents decided not to go anywhere n started to care bout Timmy more.. But that's not what Timmy wants...

If his abusive babysitter isn't there anymore to torment him and his parents started to care, Tim will lose his fairies because he's not miserable enough.. Tim doesn't mind to suffer the abuses just to have his fairies.. Having his fairies taken away will cause him to lose his memories and undo one important wish he have made.

A year ago, Tim & Jim did a science project together and create a drivable rocket ship out of junks just so they could have an adventure..

When they set off, it was going well for the most part until Jim started to lost control of their ship as it beginning to fall apart.. Jim managed to eject Tim but he wasn't fast enough to save himself and he died instantly as the ship exploded..

Tim doesn't even have enough time to wish them back to safely .. he's survived thankfully, because of Jim's quick thinking .. but he also lost a person he considered as best friend.

He tried to revive Jim back using his wishes but it was impossible as the fairies magic cant bring back a deceased person.. so he wished that Jim is 'alive' in his mind. That's the important wish he made to 'keep' Jim alive.

Jim doesn't realized that he's dead. For a year, he existed in Tim's mind, playing and talking to Tim as like nothing is happened. Jim do have his suspicion, but Tim always divert his attention and change the subject every time Jim asked him about it. Jim put his suspicion at the back of his head since Tim is so adamant for not telling Jim about it.

Eventually, the jig is up when Tim's life is getting better.. all thanks to Jimmy.. he really cares/loves Tim and doesn't want Tim get to get hurt from the constant abused.. His desire to make Tim have a better/happy life has transcended beyond Tim's mind and he is able to take over Tim's body and drive his babysitter away by trigger her allergy. It almost killed her and it render her unable to babysit for quite some time, in the same time Jim also ruined her reputation so no one would hire her anymore.

As Tim's life not so miserable anymore, he will lose his fairies soon. Jim doesn't understand why Tim doesn't feel happy and wants to continue to suffer. Tim eventually told Jim the truth, that Jim died a year ago, he made the most selfish wish, and if he doesn't have his fairies anymore, the wish will come undone, he will lose Jimmy again, not only the Jimmy in his mind but all the memories he spent time with him when he's alive too.

Jim was shocked when Tim's confessed it to him. He couldn't bring himself to hate Tim for keeping this secret for so long. Instead Jim felt at peace knowing Tim was safe and sound after their last tragic adventure. At the end, Jim told Tim to let go of him but Tim refuses.

After a lot of comfort from Jim, Tim finally let him go. Thus, Tim will loses his fairies, his selfish wish and his memories with Jim.

On the bright side, Timmy now have a better life, he's not getting abused daily and his parents started to care his well being but he lost the memories of his best friend, Jimmy.

[star-anise]

reading supercut: disability, body image, and trauma

A glimpse into the clothes thrashing around in the washing machine of my mind, with apologies that it is still a wet lump and not an actual synthesis of ideas.

From Easy Beauty: A Memoir by Chloé Cooper Jones:

[This event] embedded a damaging idea in me, one I’d recognize deeply when I read Scarry years later: beauty was a matter of particulars aligning correctly. My body put me in a bracketed, undercredited sense of beauty. But if I could get the particulars lined up just right, I could be re-seen, discovered like the palm tree is discovered. To be deserving of the whole range of human desires, I had to be extraordinary in all other aspects. In this new light, I started to see my work, my intellect, my skills, my moments of humor or goodness, not as valuable in themselves, but as ways of easing the impact of my ugliness. If only I could pile up enough good qualities, they could obscure my unacceptable body. [...] accepting the argument that beauty was malleable came, for me, with a cost. The Platonian view rejected me cleanly, but Hume and Scarry left a door ajar and I’ve spent a lifetime trying to contort my form to see if I could pass through it.

From Til We Have Faces: A Myth Retold by CS Lewis:

I now determined that I would go always veiled. I have kept this rule, within doors and without, ever since. It is a sort of treaty made with my ugliness. There had been a time in childhood when I didn't yet know I was ugly. Then there was a time (for in this book I must hide none of my shames or follies) when I believed, as girls do — and as Batta was always telling me — that I could make it more tolerable by this or that done to my clothes or my hair. Now, I chose to be veiled.

From Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy of Borderline Personality Disorder by Marsha Linehan:

Inhibited grieving is understandable among borderline patients. People can only stay with a very painful process or experience if they are confident that it will end some day, some time—that they can "work through it," so to speak. It is not uncommon to hear borderline patients say they feel that if they ever do cry, they will never stop Indeed, that is their common experience—the experience of not being able to control or modulate their own emotional experiences. [...] In the face of such helplessness and lack of control, inhibition and avoidance of cues associated with grieving are not only understandable, bur perhaps wise at times. Inhibition, however, has its costs. [...] Volkan (1983) describes an interesting phenomenon, "established pathological mourning", which is similar to the pattern I am describing. In established pathological mourning, the individual wishes to complete mourning, but at the same time persistently attempts to undo the reality of the loss.

From How to Respond to Criticism by Danny Lavery:

Apologize, but don’t really mean it, and plant a seed of secret resentment so deep in your own heart that years later you can’t even remember that you’re the one who nurtured it and made it grow, it seems that much like a native part of you.

From Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed:

[After learning that state child protective services had made a budgetary decision to only intervene with children under 12, to one of the teenagers that regularly shared stories of abuse at home] I told her it was not okay, that it was unacceptable, that it was illegal and that I would call and report this latest, horrible thing. But I did not tell her it would stop. I did not promise that anyone would intervene. I told her it would likely go on and she’d have to survive it. That she’d have to find a way within herself to not only escape the shit, but to transcend it [...] I told her that escaping the shit would be hard, but that if she wanted to not make her mother’s life her destiny, she had to be the one to make it happen. She had to do more than hold on. She had to reach. She had to want it more than she’d ever wanted anything. She had to grab like a drowning girl for every good thing that came her way and she had to swim like fuck away from every bad thing. She had to count the years and let them roll by, to grow up and then run as far as she could in the direction of her best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by her own desire to heal.

From Essays in Aesthetics by Jean-Paul Sartre:

Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.

From "I Know What You Think of Me" by Tim Kreider:

if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

[impossiblesuitcase]

Levana has two core tenets that drive her entire personal philosophy, both actively damaging and sustaining her: her need to be beautiful and her need to be loved. They are irrevocably intertwined and are ultimately her undoing.

Two people in her life dictate these notions--Channary and Evret. Channary implanted the desire to be loved and the necessity to be beautiful once Levana is disfigured. Without any willing participation from Evret, Levana carries over these insecurities, needing to be loved by him when Channary fails her and needing to keep up her glamour to feel beautiful. If Solstice is the only woman he can see as beautiful, that's what Levana must become. She sabotages her relationship with him after she shows him her true appearance; she refuses to be loved for her true self, and once he sees it, he must be disposed of. Evret lives on in Winter, who reinforces that Levana cannot ever control them as she wears her three uniform scars with pride.

With the death of these two motivators, she feels free of the burden of needing them. But the demand to be beautiful and loved is indefatigable, so she replaces them with an unearthly, ethereal glamour in her quest for vanity, and the contrived love from her citizens to feel wanted. These are both fundamentally artificial and never satisfy her, so she must always strive for more. Her body, face, voice 'improve' countless times over decades, as she is never sure that they are perfect enough. Her armies become fiercer, her inventory larger, and she sets her sights on the largest territory to conquer--Earth--all in the name of supplying her people to buy their love. Levana could have at any point abandoned her course of tyranny and used her circumstances to reform herself and her country's systemic disparity. She chooses every day to reject these opportunities and each action deepens her need to maintain the façade of love and looks. She is to be pitied, but not to be pardoned.

In order for Levana to be defeated as a villain, she must not only die, but must have her philosophy completely overturned. Kai takes the place of Evret and she replays her manipulation in the same way on their wedding day. But when she marries Kai, glamouring as his lover as she did to Evret, he dismantles her beauty, stating that she will never be as beautiful as the glamourless Linh Cinder. This directly mirrors Evret's loyalty to Solstice and it hurts Levana--not because she loves Kai in any way like she loved Evret--but because the message lives on in him. She is always inadequate.

Her glamour and her loyalties fall in one fell swoop. Her people come to her door to kill her, and her true face is blown up in the sky, permanently tainting her image. With her vanity blighted, all that's left is the fundamental nucleus of her problems: her relationship with Channary. It is the chief relationship in her life, even posthumously, and is the very cause of her perverted worldview. Levana never killed Channary and that is her greatest regret.

When Cinder arrives--Channary's near reincarnation in appearance--Levana has her second chance. It is particularly imperative to her to eliminate Selene because Levana was never loved by Channary, while Selene was. Her existence is a mockery of Levana's pain because it clarifies that Channary was capable of love and actively withheld it from Levana. However when Levana burnt Cinder alive, she levelled the playing field. She assigned Cinder a life of enduring the same prejudice and inadequacy that she faced. Therefore in their final battle, Levana likens Cinder to herself and her need to be desired. By killing Selene, she will finally prove that she has killed her need to be loved by Channary.

To do this, she sets up the perfect replica for this prophetic revenge. Cinder's friend will betray her as Channary did Levana, and Cinder will retaliate as Levana herself wished to do. It is particularly powerful that it is not Kai in the room at this final battle. Romantic love is irrelevant now. Instead it is Thorne, whom Cinder loves as family. Their almost sibling-like dynamic is now reflective of Channary and Levana. Levana asserts that this kind of love is false. But Cinder and Thorne demonstrate their loyalty to one another--even when Thorne is manipulated to hurt her, Cinder attacks Levana, not him. He proves his love in his sobs and apologies as his body rebels. Levana's final desire, to prove that love is merely a conquest and a war, is dashed.

In the end, Levana stabs Cinder, but it doesn't matter. Her worldview is shattered, her tenuous beliefs severed. That is where Levana is defeated. The final shot that kills her is simply to finalise the matter. Her tenets die with her and can be replaced with the true forms of beauty and love. Cinder and Winter, disfigured and scarred and unashamed. Kai, who loves Cinder and loves her appearance because she gave him good reason to, and never through manipulation. Cinder, who attains loyalty from the citizens of Luna and Earth alike through her action and compassion.

Love is not conquered, love is not a war; it is earned.

[doumadono]

sinful sunday!

what about izuku and intimacy? 👀 be as creative as you want :)

Warnings: aged-up Izuku

SINFUL SUNDAY

Izuku Midoriya always found solace in the warmth of his girlfriend's embrace. The city lights glittered like distant stars as they retreated to the privacy of his apartment, the air heavy with the scent of adventure and anticipation.

Izuku's fingertips traced the delicate curves of her face, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection they shared. His emerald eyes, usually brimming with determination, softened with a mix of love and vulnerability. Their journey had been fraught with challenges, yet in the quiet moments, the world outside ceased to exist.

She smiled, an understanding sparkle in her eyes. The soft hum of the city below provided a distant backdrop to the symphony of their shared breaths.

As they moved further into the room, Izuku's gaze lingered on the hero costume strewn across a chair — a reminder of the responsibilities awaiting him.

Tonight, however, his focus shifted to the intimacy they both craved.

Their lips met in a tender dance, an unspoken language of desire and trust. The weight of their experiences melted away, leaving only the present moment. Izuku's hands, calloused from countless training sessions, explored the contours of her figure with a delicate reverence.

His hands discovered the zipper of her dress, nestled on the back, and she sensually pivoted, allowing him to gradually unzip it. The desire for her boyfriend surged within her; she longed to savor every fleeting moment with him that evening before he immersed himself in work the next day.

He eased the zipper down at a leisurely pace, planting kisses along the exposed trail of her spine, eliciting delightful shivers that spread all over her body. In a languid descent, the dress glided down her body, pooling at her ankles.

The air crackled with a palpable tension, a fusion of passion and tenderness. Izuku's hands, once accustomed to grappling with villains, found a new purpose in tracing the lines of her skin.

As she leaned against his clothed chest, Izuku's hands tenderly traced the contours of her form. Starting with a gentle cupping of her breasts still embraced by the bra, his touch gradually descended along her abdomen and hips. One hand ventured lower, delicately exploring the mound beneath her silky panties, eliciting a soft moan of his name from his girlfriend.

Time seemed to stretch and contract, a dance of stolen moments that defied the constraints of their hectic lives.

The dim glow of the city outside painted the room in a soft radiance.

She turned within the circle of his arms, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt with a deliberate pace. The fabric yielded to her touch, unveiling his well-sculpted torso as she guided the shirt down his arms, allowing it to cascade to the floor.

Their shared breaths echoed in the quietude, a testament to the uncharted territory they were navigating together.

As they lay on the bed entwined, the remnants of heroism and duty felt like distant echoes. A struggle for dominance unfolded between them, a dynamic that shifted swiftly. One moment, she had Izuku pinned down, and in the next, the tables turned as he asserted control, pinning her down with equal intensity.

Izuku Midoriya's fingertips traversed the landscape of her skin, a journey filled with both curiosity and devotion.

Their lips, now acquainted with the tender language of longing, engaged in a dance that spoke of passion and familiarity. Izuku's hands, guided by an instinct, navigated the contours of her body with an artful precision.

As clothing became an afterthought, the room echoed with the symphony of shared breaths and whispered confessions.

He allowed her to straddle him, and before he comprehended what was happening, he found his member descending into the warmth of her pussy. Arching his head backward, he nestled it against the pillows, emitting a low growl as his hands gently cradled her hips.

She moved atop him with deliberate slowness, her hands tenderly gliding over his well-defined chest. In the midst of their intimate connection, she murmured words of affection, her breathy declarations of love intertwining with the rhythm of their shared passion.

Their bodies moved in a synchronized rhythm, a dance of intimacy that mirrored the ebb and flow of their shared experiences. Izuku's heartbeat, usually a drumroll of determination on the battlefield, now echoed the slower, more deliberate tempo of this intimate encounter.

She gradually escalated her rhythm, each undulation of her hips accompanied by increasingly labored breaths.

Izuku's gaze fixated on the mesmerizing dance of her breasts with every roll of her hips, compelling him to extend a hand and tenderly cup one, marveling at how it nestled perfectly in his palm, as if crafted exclusively for him. He gasped for breath, sensing the impending release that sent a chill through his veins while, paradoxically, a fiery sensation threatened to erupt within his chest. His love for her surged profoundly, and these intimate moments served as a testament to the most profound connection he had ever forged with anyone.

He subtly thrust his hips a few times, and soon, they both reached their climaxes — an intensity that left them breathless, both panting heavily in the aftermath.

She rested atop his chest, and he enveloped her in his robust arms, keeping her close and still. Their connection remained intimate, his member still nestled within her soaked pussy.

Time lost its grip as they surrendered to the exquisite vulnerability of the moment.

In the aftermath, as they lay wrapped in the afterglow, the city lights continued their silent vigil. The hero costume, forgotten in the corner, served as a reminder that duty would inevitably call Midoriya back. But for now, in the sacred aftermath of their shared intimacy, Izuku and his girlfriend reveled in the unspoken language of love — a language that flourished in the intimate spaces between heartbeats.

[caesariawritesstuff]

Be Quiet

Summary: As Jonathan Crane's therapist, you're required to have weekly sessions with him. Good thing for you that those sessions involve more than talking.

Content Warning: Therapy Sessions, P in V Sex, NSFW

Word Count: 2.2k

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ● Masterlist ●

You walked the halls of Arkham, a clipboard tucked tightly to your chest. Your heart hammered furiously against your ribcage, and you bit your lip. Anxiety twisted in your belly, a desperate ache pulsed in between your legs. The Arkham guard escorting you was completely clueless to the utter desire coursing through your veins. You snuck a quick glance, studying him head to toe: he was dressed in the traditional black and blue uniform of all the Arkham security staff; his expression was stoic, and one hand wrested at his side, near his taser.

You frowned; Here you were, dressed in a short skirt and blouse, a long, white doctors coat hanging down to your knees. As a therapist in Arkham, you never thought you’d be in the position you were in now: falling in love with your patient, Jonathan Crane.

God, just the thought both filled you with arousal and shame. Who did you think you were? Harley Quinn? And everyone knew what happened to her. Her fall from grace as she became the Joker’s sidekick and lover. At first, you’d judged her. Didn’t understand how she could fall for such a maniac. At least, not until you began your sessions with Jonathon almost three months ago.

And in those three months, you’d come to learn just exactly how a therapist in Arkham could fall in love with their patient. At first, your sessions with Jonathan had been less than productive. He danced around the idea of fear, spouting his theories and philosophies on the very basis that people did what they did because they were driven by fear. And you were desperate to prove him wrong. To show that he was incorrect. That people didn’t always do things out of fear, and for other reasons entirely – money, lust, power. Fear wasn’t a motivator for everyone.

And yet, he always had a counter.

“You crave money because you fear what it’d be like to live without,” he’d said. “You crave sex because you fear a life without intimacy. You want power because you fear losing control of your life and the people in it.”

Each time, his conversations had not only left you speechless, but wondering what you could do to get through to him. And slowly, over time, you began to fall in love with Jonathan Crane.

You’re not even sure how it happened, exactly. Not sure how, as he slowly opened up about more of his theories, he had come to ensnare you under his spell. But he had, and now here you were: heading into another therapy session with him, one that wouldn’t actually consist of much therapy at all. You sucked in a breath as you reached the room, where Jonathan awaited. The guard unlocked and opened the door, staring at you with stern, serious eyes.

“Thank you. You may go now,” you said. Your cue that he didn’t need to stand there and listen in. The guards knew your rule by now: their presence was unwanted and unnecessary, and only served to upset the patients. But, he nodded and waited until you were securely inside before he closed the door behind you.

It shut with a heavy bang, and you slowly turned your attention to Jonathan, sitting there at the desk. Wrapped in a straitjacket, his cold, steely eyes studying you. His mask-like face was unreadable and unrelenting. You were never sure what he was thinking. The room was cold, sending a chill across your flesh. You waited until you heard the guards’ footsteps drift down the hall and out of ear shot. When you were certain he was gone, you didn’t hesitate to walk around Jonathan and begin undoing his straight jacket. It was custom now, between the two of you. And he hated having his limbs confined and restrained. When it was off enough for him to slip his arms through, he flexed his fingers and rolled his neck.

“Better?” you asked, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Much,” he answered, his voice cold. Emotionless.

You wandered back to his front. The straitjacket hung off just enough at his waist that in case you needed to quickly secure it, you had easy access. But your hands were trembling, and you clenched your fists at your sides, trying not to show your fear. Heat crept across your cheeks, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

He noticed, his eyes dropping to your fists. “Trembling already. You’re not afraid, are you?”

“No,” you answered quickly. Perhaps too quick. Like a child pretending they were confident in their own emotions.

He studied you, his eyes examining every inch of you. Today, you’d chosen an especially short skirt and more revealing blouse that exposed even more of your cleavage. Your intentions were fully on display: what you wanted. What you wanted him to do to you. Jonathan Crane was not a stupid man, and the very subtle hint of a smirk appeared on his mask-like face. He rested one hand on your waist, and the other snaked up to grab your chin. You gasped as he pulled you on top of him so quickly that you had no choice but to straddle him. You rested both hands on his shoulders, locking eyes with him.

“I can practically smell your fear,” he whispered lowly, bringing your mouth to his. He kissed you gentle – but his lips were rough. Patchy. You didn’t care. The feel of his tongue on yours made you relax into him; you pressed your body further into his. His hand tightened on your waist and his other hand fisted at the back of your lab coat, before tangling in your hair.

You kissed him harder, fiercer. Desperate to taste him. Wetness pooled in between your legs, and you moaned into the kiss. You grinded your hips into his, feeling the erection confined in his white, prison suit. You reached up, tangling your hands into his dark hair, tugging slightly on the strands. Massaging his scalp. He groaned and pulled away, staring at you.

“On your knees,” he said. One simple command. He didn’t need to elaborate.

Your entire body was on fire as you crawled off him and lowered to your knees. Your heart beat so hard you could hear it thrumming in your ears. Slowly, you helped his cock free of its constraints. Swollen hard, precum leaking from the tip. The head bright red with blood and desire. You glanced up at him once; he still gazed at you expressionless, but his eyes were full of need and want.

You smiled and leaned forward, darting your tongue out to lick at the tip. His breath suddenly hitched, his cock twitching in your palm. You smirked, satisfied and absolutely turned on you. Slowly, you continued the slow, teasing movements of your tongue. Up and down his shaft, swirling around his cockhead. Above, his breathing grew quicker, in a way you hadn’t heard from him before. But, you leaned forward and took him fully into your mouth. He tasted of sweat and salt and skin as you leaned forward, taking him even further. A low, guttural groan escaped his throat, and he twisted his fingers into your hair. You rose up, then back down, repeating the bobbing motion with your head. You sucked harder, feeling a wetness in between your own legs. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft and pumped slowly in tandem with your sucking.

“Stop,” he said, his voice curt. Quick. A command.

You immediately did as he said, pulling him from your mouth. By the tone of his voice, you had a feeling he was close. But you smirked and licked your lips. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression just as emotionless as before.

“So obedient,” he said. His fingertips lowered from your temple down to your cheek, slowly stroking your skin. “Turn around.”

You nodded and stood, doing as he said and spinning on your heels. His chair scraped backwards as he stood; carefully, he grabbed your shoulders and lowered you down onto the metal desk. You grasped it carefully, heart hammering against your ribcage. Slowly, his hands wandered downwards, until they reached your ass; he caressed your skin softly, before they wandered further downwards – further, further – until his fingers brushed against your slick, warm wetness. You whined slightly, biting your lip, anticipation building in your stomach.

Then, he pushed your panties aside and sunk two fingers into you, and you groaned as he pumped them in and out, slowly. Carefully, as if studying every reaction you gave. The soft moans that escaped your lips as his fingers filled you and pumped in and out, a vulgar wetness filling the room. You rested your head against the table and closed your eyes, drowning in the feeling.

Suddenly, he removed his fingers, and you whined at the absence – but before you could protest further, he sunk his cock into you. You gasped at the intrusion; the feel of him against you was like heaven. He filled you completely, stretching out your walls. You moaned as his hands placed themselves on your waist, nails digging into your flesh, and he began to thrust.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath. His hips slammed into you, his balls slapping against your ass. You gripped the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white. Soft mewls of pleasure escaped your lips. You gasped with each thrust, your voice growing louder, lewder.

Suddenly, his hand snapped forward. He leaned forward, his powerful body overtaking yours. His hand snaked forward, and he wrapped his fingers around your throat, forcing your face upwards.

“Be quiet,” he hissed into your ear. His rough skin was scratchy against yours. His tongue snaked out, licking at your earlobe and you gasped again, trembling against him. “Ssh…you don’t want them to hear us, do you?”

No, God, no. You were already balancing on a dangerous line. Your job was already at stake. Being caught with Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, fucking you would absolutely destroy your career. You shook your head in answer.

“Good girl,” he whispered. But he didn’t release your throat. Instead, his lips traveled down your jaw, across your flesh, teeth nipping at your flesh. His thrusts increased harder, faster, quicker. His cockhead rammed right into your sweet spot, and you gritted your teeth, trying hard not to cry out in ecstasy.

You closed your eyes as the ultimate pleasure built in your core. In the center of your womanhood, building higher and higher until you were seeing stars. You bit your lip, and slowly reached downwards, rubbing your clit. The heightened sensation was just enough to send you over the edge and a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you came. Your climax wracked through your entire body, spasming every muscle, every part of yourself. You moaned and writhed as Jonathn snapped his hips once more and groaned, spilling himself inside of you. His cock twitched and pulsed, as you felt his seed fill your insides.

For a moment, there was nothing but your heavy breathing in the room. He released his grip on your throat and you fell onto the desk, exhausted, clit still aching with pleasure. He pulled out of you, and his cum dripped down your thighs. You swallowed, trying to gain your composure, and spun back around to see him tucking his cock back into his pants. Your own panties were soaked wet; you were glad you’d stuffed an extra pair into your purse just in case.

You ran a hand through your hair and glanced at the clock. Shit – time was almost up for your session. You had about ten minutes until it was over, and you needed to make yourself look presentable.

“That was…” you couldn’t even say the words. When was the last time you’d had sex so good?

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his throat, but, he sat back onto his seat. You wandered behind him and began strapping him back into his straitjacket. “Sorry I have to do this,” you whispered, voice low. When he was securely fastened in, you walked back to his front.

“Jonathon—” you started to say, but stopped. How could you tell him how you were feeling?

He studied you carefully. “Speak. Whatever you fear, you can tell me.”

“It’s not what I fear,” you said. “It’s what I don’t. Because I don’t fear you. I love you, Jonathon.”

If he was surprised by your declaration, you couldn’t tell. Not with his mask-like face. But he looked you up and down and said, “My dear. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

You smiled, heart thundering in your chest. You were desperate to kiss him. Desperate to throw yourself on him, take his face in your hands—

But suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hall. You hurried back into your seat and flipped open the file in front of you, pretending you’d been taking notes. By the time you were settled, the door swung open.

“Time’s up, doctor,” the guard said.

“Very well,” you sighed. You didn’t need to feign your irritation. But, you gathered your things and tucked them under your arm. “I’ll see you next week, Jonathon.”

He nodded, and you followed the guard out into the hall, a giant smile plastered on your face.

You couldn’t wait until next week.