#Controlled interactions between pets

[hsmagazine254]

Introducing A New Pet To Your Household - H&S Pets Galore

How To Introduce A New Pet To Your Household: Tips & Tricks for a Smooth Transition Bringing a new pet into your household is an exciting and joyful experience. Whether you’re introducing a new cat, dog, or another furry companion, it’s important to ensure a smooth transition for both your existing pets and the newcomer. By following these helpful tips and tricks, you can create a harmonious…

[b-rainlet]

Cannot watch 'cute cat videos' on here anymore because they either a. Endanger the cat or B. Endanger a prey animal that is being forced to interact with the cat

[tgms]

hitting it raw!

— letting wind breaker boys hit it raw for the first time (wc: 4.3k)

sakura haruka, suo hayato, togame jo, kaji ren, umemiya hajime (separate) x fem reader

contains explicit nsfw content, minors do not interact

tw: creampie, hair pulling, oral (m and f receiving), overstimulation, cum swallowing, squirting, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, angel), dacryphillia, toys (vibrator), light choking, semi-public sex (restaurant bathroom), unprotected sex, size difference, belly bulge, mentions of birth control pills

sakura haruka (wc: 0.8k)

⸻ oral (m receiving), hair pulling, cum swallowing, unprotected sex

“don’t-” sakura grunted, hips jolting up as you took him deeper into your mouth. he reached down blindly, hands finding your hair and tugging hard in an attempt to pull you off him.

you moaned at the feeling instead, the vibrations causing him to jerk up into you again. one hand came up to squeeze his balls as you eased the rest of his cock down your throat, stopping only when your nose was nestled in the hair at the base of his length. he opened his eyes to the sight of you blinking up at him prettily, and the image alone had him coming undone.

his breath hitched, groans echoing from above you. he threw his head back and brought an arm up to cover his eyes as thick ropes of cum shot down your throat.

you released his dick with a loud pop!, grinning up at him from your kneeling position between his legs. you opened wide, tongue lolling out to show not a single drop of cum after swallowing the load he released in your mouth.

“i—” sakura swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to even out his breathing. “i told you not to swallow…” he grumbled, willing his head to lean forward so he could get a better look at your face. his other hand remained in your hair, smoothing down the pieces that stuck up. you kissed his tip gently, giggling when his hips jerked at the movement.

“you’re still hard,” you noted, resting your head on his thigh, palm cushioning your cheek. “wanna go again or need a break?”

sakura’s ears flushed red, brows scrunching together in embarrassment. “you haven’t cum yet,” he scowled. you grinned at his response, finding how angry and sensitive he gets post-nut cute. you let him know as much, and watched as the rest of his face heated up. “just—give me a second. can’t feel my damn legs.”

“i can go on top,” you offered, not waiting for a response and shimmying your bottoms down your legs. sakura’s eyes zeroed in on the wet spot on your panties, mouth instantly going dry.

he stared in wonder at the string of slick connecting your underwear to your core, mind going numb at the way you straddled his lap. your fingers made quick work of stretching yourself out, and he felt himself grow harder, if possible. his eyes locked onto your hand, following your movement until you held your slick-coated fingers up to his face. almost unconsciously, he opened his mouth and whimpered at your taste.

deeming yourself ready, you lined up sakura’s cock to your entrance, giggling to yourself at the way his eyes seemed to roll to the back of his head.

“wait, grab a—oh, fuck,” he grunted out at the feeling of your wet heat enveloping his bare cock. you sunk down slowly, pausing every few seconds to let yourself adjust to his size. “get off—‘m not wearing a condom.”

you ignored him, eyes focused on the way your hole sucked him in. sakura’s hands found their way to your waist, squeezing in warning at the way you rut your hips against his.

“oh, you like it raw, huh?” you teased, gasping when the blunt head of his cock nudged the sensitive spot inside you. you continued moving slowly, opting to circle your hips over bouncing on his cock.

suddenly, you found yourself on your back on the floor, the buttons of your forgotten skirt digging uncomfortably into your shoulder. sakura hovered over you, arms shaking in exertion and breaths coming out in heavy pants. the way you were grinding on him almost sent him over the edge, balls tightening at the way your tits moved over him. he couldn’t help the way he manhandled you, any more and he would’ve came in seconds.

“wait,” he breathed out, forehead leaning down to rest on your collarbones. you felt so tight and wet, pussy squeezing him in a vice grip. your arms circled his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape, tugging slightly at his lack of movement.

“i said i’d go on top,” you complained, lifting your hips up in an attempt to get some sort of friction from sakura’s still body.

“and i said wait,” he repeated, body slowly beginning to move against yours. you let out a small moan at the feeling of his cock dragging through your walls, trailing off into a high pitched gasp at the feeling of his fingers on your clit. “acting like no condom wasn’t a big deal,” he growled out, hips snapping roughly against yours. you squealed at a particularly rough thrust, fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled.

“feels good, doesn’t it, haru?” you cooed out, clenching as hard as you could. his thrusts stuttered, a hand coming up to steady himself against you.

“enough,” he breathed against your neck. “let me make you feel good too.”

suo hayato (wc: 0.9k)

⸻ edging, hair pulling, toys (vibrator), dacryphillia, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl)

you thought you knew better than to accept any kind of challenge or proposal from your boyfriend, knowing that every idea that ever left his head was usually for his own benefit. but for once, you were determined to win a bet.

for the past what felt like hours, you had been trapped under suo, writhing as he held a vibrator to your clit and his tongue explored inside you.

the promise of raw sex on the condition that you don’t cum had you holding on to your last shred of sanity, eyes clouded over but focused on a shadow on the ceiling. you’re sure the bedsheets were soaked underneath you, the slick feeling of your juices running down your thighs and almost to your knees.

“five more minutes,” suo mused from between your legs, the bottom half of his face shining, covered in your slick. “you’re doing better than i expected, aren’t you?”

you whimpered in response, knowing that not responding at all would have suo doing everything he could to make you cum. he grinned at the sound, diving back into you and clicking the vibrator to a higher setting. your body jerked up, but the one hand holding your hip kept you from jolting into suo’s mouth.

“uh-uh,” he tutted, pulling away from you. you whined at the loss of contact, but made sure to keep your hips planted firmly on the bed. if you even attempted to chase after his fingers or mouth, you’re sure he would’ve edged you for a few more hours. “you were so close, there. what a shame.”

suo made quick work of flipping you over, chuckling at the hazy look in your eyes. you hardly noticed the way he manhandled you, head reeling from the orgasm he ripped away from you. but the familiar rip of foil behind you brought you back to reality, head whipping back to stare at suo holding a condom.

“hayato…” you whined, tears lining your eyes. “but you promised you wouldn’t…” he had you bent over, one hand running up and down your side while the other held your wrists together behind your back.

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” suo teased from behind you, the hand caressing you paused to pinch your skin. “you also said you wouldn’t move at all.”

“i didn’t! p-please,” you hiccuped, tears already streaming down your face and smudging your mascara. “didn’t cum at all… promised i wouldn’t.”

you felt a hand come up to gently swipe underneath your eyes, unaware of the way suo’s pants tightened at the sight of your tears.

“i know,” he said simply. “if i wanted you to cum, you would’ve. try again and ask nicely.”

“wanna cum on your cock,” you choked out, words garbled with the steady stream of tears. “please don’t use it…” your voice trailed off into light sobs, eyes focused on the condom and hands attempting to break out of his hold.

“that wasn’t hard, was it?” suo relented, taking pity on you. he slipped the open packet into one of your hands, relishing in the way you crumpled it in your grip and the dopey smile that appeared on your face.

the sound of his zipper already had you salivating. he still held your hands together behind your back, so you could only imagine what he was doing to finally free his aching cock.

you could feel him behind you, his leaking tip lining up at your entrance and thrusting in in one smooth movement. the high you’ve been chasing for the past hour finally came when he bottomed out, cock nudging at your cervix. your head fell forward, mouth dropping into a soundless scream while your pussy fluttered and squeezed around his dick.

he released your hands in order to hover himself over you fully, your own following to grip his wrists loosely.

“look at that…” you heard him mutter lowly, breath fanning across your shoulder. “you’re making a mess on my bed, pretty girl. i barely stuffed you and you already came.”

you pressed your cheek into the sheets, trying to catch your breath as you lay still for a moment. you gasped at the feeling of your head being lifted, suo’s hand buried into your hair as he turned you to face him.

“you want more?” he asked, pulling his hips all the way back until only the tip remained in you, before slamming all the way back in, balls hitting your clit in the perfect spot. your head fell slack again, drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth at the feeling. suo repeated his ministrations, snapping his hips into yours and leaning over to get a better look at your fucked out expression. “i asked a question.”

“wan’ more…” you slurred out, tongue lolling out as suo subtly angled his hips to hit the sensitive spot inside you. “want y’re cum inside…”

he stilled at that, dropping your hair and pushing your face into the bed. out of the corner of your eye, you could see the hand supporting himself grip onto the sheets tighter, knuckles almost turning white.

“better make sure you don’t regret that then, sweetheart.”

togame jo (wc: 0.8k)

⸻ overstimulation, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, pet names (baby, doll)

“y’look so pretty like this, baby,” togame whispered into your thigh, teeth lightly grazing over the sensitive skin. his eyes locked onto your glistening folds and he grinned, lightly blowing air on your sensitive clit. you jolted under the movement, a small whimper escaping from your lips.

“jo,” you hiccuped, spent from the previous orgasms he pulled out of you. you wriggled under his grasp, hands reaching down to tug his hair, a sad attempt of getting him to face you properly. “want you…”

taking pity on you, togame lifted himself up and hovered over you, arms caging you in as he pressed a light kiss to your lips. his cock slid against your core, blunt head occasionally catching your clit. you moaned softly, hips bucking against his in an attempt to create more friction.

“you already have me,” he grunted, eyes locked on to where you touched, entranced with the way your juices soaked his cock.

“want more,” you whined, hands coming up to dig into his shoulders. he hissed at the way your acrylics dug into his skin, already anticipating the marks you’d leave behind. not that he minded, though. “want you inside,” you moaned, legs moving to wrap around his waist and lock him in place.

he hissed at the feeling of your pussy pressing his cock to his abdomen, a big hand coming in between your bodies to press you down against the bed. he ignored the whimper you made at the loss of contact, instead leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. “can’t today, baby. we’re out of condoms,” he whispered against your lips once he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you.

“don’t care, i wanna feel you,” you whispered back, turning your head slightly to press light butterfly kisses to his face.

togame short circuited at your words, thoughts of your pussy dripping with his cum instantly plaguing his mind. his hips stuttered against yours before halting completely, cock pressing directly against your clit.

“don’t say that,” he groaned, head falling forward to rest against yours. “can’t control myself if you say shit like that.”

you squirmed under his weight, hands weakly pushing at his shoulders to get him to look at you. you couldn’t push him even if you tried, but you looked so pretty trying to get his attention that he lifted himself up anyway.

“why not?” you blinked up at him, tears of frustration gathering in your waterline.

togame groaned again, simultaneously feeling turned on and guilty at the thought of you crying. “don’t think i can pull out, baby.”

“who cares?” you pouted, a few tears escaping and trailing down your cheek. “can’t you just cum inside?”

he shuddered at your words, cock somehow getting bigger. he could never say no to you. “you sure?”

you nodded, still hiccuping from the tears while your hands looped around his neck. “want you inside now.”

togame couldn’t control himself any longer, the image of your spent pussy pushing out his seed plagued his mind. instantly, he had your legs tossed over his shoulders and sheathed himself inside you in one thrust.

you squealed at the intrusion, the new position allowing him to reach deeper than he usually does. the lack of protection between you had you feeling extra sensitive, the vein on the underside of his cock dragging against your entrance every time he thrusted in.

“you’re so wet,” he groaned, throwing his head back. your pussy fluttered at his deep voice, walls clamping down on him. “fuck, did you just get tighter? don’t—don’t squeeze me like that, baby.”

“‘s deep,” you slurred, mouth falling open when he tapped them. you closed your lips around the three fingers he gave you, moaning and salivating at the feeling of two holes being stuffed.

his other hand was positioned between you, heavy thumb resting on your clit, pressing extra hard when he thrusted back inside you. in no time, you felt your nth orgasm approaching, but this one felt a little different than the ones from earlier.

“wait! ‘s too much!” you moaned out, eyes snapping open and hands situating themselves on togame’s abdomen as you tried to push him away. “y’re too big, feels funny!”

he angled his hips slightly, rutting against the sensitive spot inside you as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. the pressure of his cock dragging along your walls and his thumb on your clit had you seeing stars. your orgasm came crashing down on you, pussy forcing togame’s cock out of you as you gushed, juices covering his abdomen.

“shit, you’re so messy,” he groaned, watching in awe at the mess you made. he spread your legs again, easing himself back inside your fluttering hole. your body shook at the overstimulation, whining at the feeling of his cock filling you again

“you said you wanted to feel me, doll,” togame said, pausing to lick a long stripe up your ear. “stay nice and still for me, ‘kay? we’re not done til your pretty cunt’s filled with my cum.”

kaji ren (wc: 1.1k)

⸻ semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of birth control pills

“cut it out,” kaji hissed, one hand coming up to squeeze your jaw as a warning while the other tried to stop your fingers from undoing his pants zipper. the two of you squeezed in on the same side of a booth in some family restaurant downtown, but the sight of him punching a creep who tried hitting on you earlier had you squirming and squeezing your thighs together the whole walk there.

“y’re really trying to do this now?” he muttered in disbelief, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“but you looked so good earlier,” you mumbled out, cheeks still squished together. “we haven’t fucked in, like, a week. missed your dick.”

an audible crunch echoed in the area, you tilted your head up slightly and watched as he swallowed thickly before spitting out the stick of his lollipop on the table.

“you keep doing this shit,” he groaned, ears turning red. “couldn’t’ve waited til we got home? fucksake,” despite his words, kaji adjusted his grip from your hand to your wrist, roughly pulling you up and dragging you to the restroom in the back, weaving through tables, over stray bags and a few legs sticking out.

he pushed the bathroom door open unceremoniously, eyes doing a quick sweep of the area before he turned to you for approval. “clean enough?”

your heart swelled at the consideration and you had half the mind to actually start swooning. instead, you pressed yourself into his back, smiling at his behavior before nodding. “mhm. you’re so cute.”

you could feel him stiffen in front of you, grip on your wrist tightening enough to hurt, before he slammed you against the closed door. his lips attached to yours, tongue forcing your lips open as a hand snaked down to your other lips.

he paused his movement eyes widening at what he felt under your skirt. “why are you wearing this shit…?” he mumbled, feeling lace and a concerning amount of fabric—barely any, to be exact.

“always wanna look my best for you,” you batted your eyes at him, grinning at the way his jaw clenched. the smile slipped off your face at the rip that echoed off the walls. you looked down to see half your panties in kaji’s hand and the other half slowly fluttering down to the floor. you gaped at the sight, jaw dropping in disbelief that your boyfriend actually ripped your underwear.

he ignored you, dropping down to his knees and lifting your skirt up. his eyes were situated on your leaky hole, mesmerized by the juices that were slowly trailing down your thigh.

“don’t have time to stretch you out properly. c’you handle it?” he asked, two fingers already prodding at your entrance. your knees buckled, arms flailing out to catch yourself on the wall to your left.

“s’okay, two’s enough,” you gasped out, feeling him press against the spongy spot inside you. “d’you have a condom? didn’t put a new one after last time.”

it was silent for a second, the squelching from between your legs pausing as kaji patted himself down for his wallet.

“didn’t bring it,” he grumbled. “shoulda waited til we got home.”

you felt your disappointment rise, even more so when kaji stood up and zipped his pants back up.

“wait, actually, can’t we go without it?” you proposed, instantly feeling defensive at kaji’s frown. “‘s not like i’m gonna get pregnant.”

his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“got on the pill last month. can’t you just fuck me now?”

kaji swore under his breath, muttering to himself about how demanding you were, but the bulge in his pants was more than obvious to how he felt.

“keep your mouth shut, got it?” he asked, arms looping under your thighs to hoist you up and set you against the sink counter. you gripped onto his shoulders, pressing a kiss into his cheek at the motion.

“you’re the best!” you sang into his ear.

“shut up,” he mumbled, wrestling with his boxers to pull his cock out as you flipped your skirt up. “can’t believe the first time i’m fucking you raw’s in a public bathroom.”

“can’t believe you’re fucking me in a public bathroom,” you countered, gasping when you felt his cock nudge at your entrance.

“you were the one getting handsy out there, i don’t wanna hear shit from you,” and with one swift movement, kaji bottomed out completely.

you let out a loud moan at the feeling, your pussy struggling to take him in due to the lack of prep, walls stretching uncomfortably around his length. “keep going,” you whined when his hips instantly stilled.

“i told you to keep quiet.”

“sorry, ren,” you breathed out, head resting on his shoulder. “been a while. y’feel bigger than usual.”

his grip on your thigh tightened, probably enough to leave hand-shaped bruises. kaji started rutting into you, not fully pulling out but enough for you to start getting used to his size. one of his hands found your clit, causing you to squeal and jerk forward into him. he stopped moving again, his other hand coming up to snake around your neck and squeeze.

“keep your mouth shut,” he rasped, sweat gathering along his forehead and dripping down his neck. he breathed out onto your neck, an attempt at grounding himself.

“you gonna cum? two pump chump?” you teased, breath hitching at the new angle he was thrusting at.

“shut up. y’re fucking tight. ‘m never using a condom again,” he grunted out, panting right below your ear.

his praise went straight to your core, coupled with his strong thrusts and messy circles on your clit, your orgasm crashed down on you. you couldn’t help the moan that ripped its way past your lips, breath getting caught when kaji warningly squeezed your neck.

the lack of oxygen made you dizzy, walls clamping down on kaji at the stimulation. his thrusts became more erratic, cock slamming into you as he shot his load inside. his thrusts slowed as your cunt milked him of the last of his cum, your body twitching from the way he used your body.

“can’t believe you ripped my underwear,” you grumbled, standing up awkwardly in an attempt to keep kaji’s cum inside you. “you owe me a new pair.”

his hands came up to stabilize you, letting you lean into him as you caught your breath. a drop of his cum dripped out of you directly onto the bathroom floor. his eyes locked onto it, trailing up until they landed at the mixture of his and your cum leaking out of you.

shit, was he hard again?

“shut up,” he growled, face heating up. your ripped panties secured in his jacket pocket. “be grateful i didn’t plug you with that shit.”

umemiya hajime (wc: 0.7k)

⸻ size difference, belly bulge, unprotected sex (good girl, angel, pretty girl)

umemiya always thought you were pretty, but something about you in this position, spread out for him, had his heart swelling a little more than usual.

“where do you want me?” he breathed out, gently nosing your cheek and chuckling at the way you murmured his name. his fingers gently traced your folds, relishing in the way your body jerked at his touch.

“‘dun care,” you sniffled, tears pooling in your eyes. “jus’ want you, haji.”

umemiya’s jaw clenched at the admission, and he couldn’t help the way he ground his clothed dick against your exposed core. the friction of his jeans causing you to cry out and grip onto his shoulders.

“take ‘em off,” you whined, one hand snaking down to paw at his belt. “…please.”

“tell me where you want me first, pretty girl,” he cooed, pants getting impossibly tighter at the way you opened your eyes and peered innocently up at him.

“want you everywhere,” you admitted, hands coming up to cover your face as your cheeks heated up.

ume let out a curse under his breath, breath hitching at how cute you were being. you were laid bare for him, everything stripped from your body and multiple orgasms drawn out by him and you still felt shy.

“good girl,” he groaned, hands reaching down to finally remove his pants. despite your previous embarrassment, you sat up and laid your hands over his own, wanting to help him undress.

“wanna help you feel good, too,” you murmured shyly, cheeks heating up. umemiya had to stop himself from throwing his head back and groaning at the sight of you in front of him. “can i?”

“next time, angel,” he choked out, gently pushing you to lay back as he hovered over you. “let me feel you first, yeah?”

he lowered himself, pressing gentle kisses to your face as he began rutting against you, cock sliding messily through your folds. “feels big…” you muttered, pupils dilating the longer you stared at the man on top of you. “can it fit?”

ume felt himself get harder, if that was even possible, at your innocent tone. your teary eyes staring up at him tugged on his heart as he dropped down again to press a deep kiss to your lips.

“i’ll fit,” he’s confident. with how good you’ve been for him all night how could he not be? “trust me and i’ll take care of you, pretty girl.”

you clenched around nothing at the name, pussy already leaking all over his cock. “i trust you, haji,” you whispered out.

“open wide and relax f’me, okay?” his hands pushed your thighs further apart, pussy now on full display. his eyes locked onto your glistening hole, tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight.

umemiya slowly started to ease himself in, holding himself back from thrusting in completely. the way your walls were stretching to fit him had him dizzy, head spinning from the grip you had on his cock. and the noises you made were downright sinful, whimpers and moans escaping your lips, your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sounds—oh, that’s no good.

“don’t hide,” he grunted out, gently bringing your hand down. “i wanna hear those pretty noises.”

he pushed in as much as he could, cock drenched in your juices until he met resistance a little more than halfway in. you squealed at the feeling, head thrown back and back arched as he filled you.

“it‘s too much!” you cried out suddenly, walls seizing against him. he pressed a hand to your belly, eyes widening at the bulge he felt and saw peeking through your skin.

umemiya leaned down to press another kiss to your lips, peppering your face in them as a few tears escapes your eyes.

“you can take it,” he encouraged, groaning at the way you tightened around him. he eased the rest of his length into your heat, smiling at the way he completely disappeared inside you. “good girl—like that.”

he circled a finger lightly around your clit, not expecting it to throw you over the edge. you let out a high pitched moan, head thrashing and nails scratching down his arms as an orgasm washed over you. your walls squeezed him tighter, almost sucking him in.

“you already came, angel?” he asked, breathless from how tight you held on to him. “let me see you do that one more time.”

note: big fat thank u to anyone who made it to the end, hugs for u! kaji’s section being the longest… yeah drinking my clown juice rn. lmk ur thoughts!

[miupow]

──★ BAD DOG !

★ pairing。choi beomgyu x fem!reader genre。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , pwp warnings。minors do not interact! est. relationship , sub!beomgyu , pet play , furnature fucking , cumshot , breeding kink , oral (f. rec) , collar and leash , dirty talk , degredation and humiliation kink , praise kink , pet names , facials , squirting , creampie mentions , mommy kink , cum eating mention

★ synopsis。you can't help but please your puppy, even when he's being punished.

a/n ⸝⸝ rewritten work inspired by a thought written by @tigerhoshibby with her permission. i haven't written any sub!idol content in such a long while... excited to finally get back into the game. [ 1. 2k words ] ⸝⸝ [ m. list ]

beomgyu’s eyes brim with tears as he kneels on the floor between your legs, his shaking hands gripping tight onto your plush thighs. you looked down your nose at him, pouting and squirming beneath you as you lounged languidly on the couch, leather collar pulled tight around his neck and catching at his bobbing adam’s apple– another sharp tug of the leash wrapped in your hand makes him whine, unable to pull himself forward and meet you where he wants you the most. “dumb mutt can’t control his dick,” you spit with a sick grin, giggling at the way beomgyu’s breath hitches, “did you just cum from eating some pussy?”

pearly white strings of cum covered his belly and thighs, his cock flushed a deep shade of pink and still rutting mindlessly against the ruined couch cushion underneath him. your own arousal dripped from his lips and chin as beomgyu pants like a dog, slack jawed with his tongue out, those teary eyes blown wide and fixated on your wet pussy. he struggles against the pull of the leash, desperate to dive his head back in between your thighs, a pathetic whimper slipping from his swollen lips when his collar cuts off his breathing, choking him. you watch in sick delight as his cock twitches.

“now look at you getting hard again just from me being mean to you!” you jeer, “disgusting dog, fucking the furnature like some bitch in heat. i bet you want to cum again, don’t you?”

beomgyu’s desperate gaze snaps to yours and he nods his head vigorously, his hips bucking hard against the cushion. a thick bead of precum leaks from the tip of his cock.

“good boys use their words.”

“yes, yes, please–” he whines shakily, voice rough from disuse. “please, please can I cum?”

you pat his head tenderly, running your fingers through his long hair; he arches into your touch like he’s been starved of it, a pretty moan escaping from deep in his chest. a false sense of safety. “where do you want to cum, puppy?” you ask sweetly, the sudden switch in your tone sending beomgyu reeling. 

“i-inside, please, wanna give you my pups,” 

“dumb dog wants to breed like it’s instinct?” you glance at the creamy mess coating beomgyu’s tan skin, faking a sympathetic pout. “but you wasted all your cum, there’s not enough to fill me up…”

you both knew you were full of shit, beomgyu could cum over and over for hours– but in his current headspace he hung onto every word you spat at him, his cries growing louder and louder as your grip on his leash loosened. poor thing, already fucked stupid without even getting his dick wet; you finally drop your hold on him, letting him dive down and press his face against your cunt, his pleas for another release muffled by your swollen pussy lips. 

you sigh in pleasure as beomgyu’s tongue works at your engorged clit, his big brown eyes looking up at you from between your legs. “i’ll let you cum, beomie.” you hiss, reaching for a fistful of his hair to tug. “if you follow my orders.”

“anything, i’ll do anything,” beomgyu begs against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if he was drinking ambrosia.

“i want you to keep humping that cushion like the dog you are. go ahead and ruin it some more, and maybe i’ll forgive you for being such a bad dog.” your voice was far too gentle for your vulgar words, venom disguised as sweet honey. 

beomgyu shakes his head, his glassy tears threatening to overflow sending a sharp shock of arousal up your spine. “nuh uh, wanna cum in you–”

“sorry pup, I already told you there’s not enough.” you lie again. beomgyu presses himself further into your heat, crying out when his oversensitive cockhead brushes the rough fabric of the cushion. 

“i don’t wanna, mommy, please!” he warbles.

“i said no, baby. either cum on the cushion or not at all.” you scratch at his scalp gently, causing him to shiver– he can’t escape the growing need to obey, such an obedient pet even when he’s being bad. slowly and uncoordinated, he rocks his hips back and forth against the cushion, thrusting his tongue into your fluttering hole to cover up his pathetic sobs. his cock throbs an angry red, velvety skin pulsing obscenely as he falls into an unsteady rhythm. every thrust against the cushion makes him cry more and more, so good yet so painful all at once. the friction burns on the underside of his shaft, his weepy fat tip, your poor pet unable to hide his masochistic pleasure as he hiccups pitifully, whines and begs to be touched while he eats your pussy so deliciously. his tears finally fall down his flushed cheeks, and the sight of him so debauched is almost difficult to look at with the way it makes your cunt throb around his tongue. “good boy,” you praise in a whisper, tugging at his hair, watching how he digs his nails deep into the cushion to keep himself from touching without permission. “such a good pup.”

his hips pick up speed, erratic and rough against the cushion, a telltale sign that he was close. he pulls his face out from between your thighs just enough to clearly and properly beg; “please, mommy, i’m gonna cum, don’t wanna cum, let me fuck you, let me cum inside, please–”

you had half the mind to give in to his wishes– you knew he wouldn’t last a few seconds once he was inside of you, his cock swallowed by your warm gummy walls, immediately shooting what was left of his hot cum deep into your pussy… but he was just so cute when you didn't give him what he wanted

“no, mutt. Be a good boy and make a mess on the couch. better make me cum too.”

“mommy, no–” he sobs, reduced down to nothing but a dog doing tricks to impress it’s owner; yet he revels in it, the humiliation of it, and it just brings him closer and closer to spilling his seed everywhere. his cute pink cockhead pokes out with every one of his thrusts forward, leaking a steady stream of precum that does barely anything to aid in the slide. 

he doubles his efforts on your pussy, hot mouth sucking perfectly against your most sensitive spots as you rode his face, throwing your head back with a sharp cry when the ever-growing knot in your belly snaps and you squirt all over beomgyu’s crying face. your orgasm triggers his own, his moan just short of a scream as his tip starts spewing thick ropes of cum everywhere, across the cushion, the floor, and the front of the couch. some of it even lands on your legs, thighs shaking as you ride out your high on his button nose.

“bad dog!” you chastise gleefully once you’ve recovered enough to speak, beomgyu still shaking from the aftershocks as he nuzzles against your thigh. He glances up at you in confusion and surprise. “you made an even bigger mess than before. got your nasty cum everywhere… now lick it up.” 

[tiza0925]

Drink it All | 18+

Warning/Tags: nsfw, afab/female reader, intoxicated/drugged sex (consensual), praise kink, pet names, teasing, vaginal fingering, degradation kink, multiple orgasms, dumbification, overstimulation, squirting, finger sucking, mating press, creampie, raw sex, Oikawa is great with aftercare though, SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18 

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“All of it, love.” 

You listen, tipping your head back as you lift the cup, your mouth open and throat working with a swallow as the liquid pours into your mouth. 

You feel your heart racing with nerves, your chest rising and falling rapidly, unsure how your body will react to this. 

But Oikawa said you’ll be okay. 

And you trust him. 

When you let out a wet gasp after swallowing the entire drink, you tip your chin back down to look at Oikawa—vision a little foggy, and your eyes feel hot and wet. 

“Good girl,” His smile is serene, syrupy, and slow, and he reaches with one hand to take the cup from you, while his other hand tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. “You always listen so well for me.” 

If this was with anyone else—you would’ve never agreed to this. 

Drinking an unknown liquid—because they asked you to—is fucking insane. 

But this is Oikawa—someone you’ve been dating for years, now. 

And he’s never given you a reason to not trust him—hence, the reason why you’re in this position, to begin with. 

Sitting on the bed, back against the bed frame with your legs—that are exposed except for your panties still on—sprawled out in front of you, and he sits in between those spread-out legs, easing you as the liquid takes over your senses. 

Your eyelids are starting to feel heavy, your mind slowly being stuffed with cotton, and you blink slowly—feeling the liquid travel and spread heat across your body and between your legs, and you murmur while getting a little drowsy, “Feels weird.” 

The expression on Oikawa’s face is soft and affectionate, and his hand moves to swipe a thumb over your plush lips. “I know, baby, you must feel all fuzzy in the head now, hm?” 

You nod, your limbs feeling heavy, and Oikawa runs his hands—they’re so rough but warm and heavy—up along your legs, squeezing your thighs as he soothes you. “You’re okay.” 

He must’ve noticed how you try to fight whatever drug was in that drink, or maybe he noticed how tense your legs are as he massages them, his voice coming out velvety and smooth. “Don’t fight it, love, it’s okay.” 

You let out a small whine—you’re not used to feeling your body lose control like this. 

“Just keep your legs open for me,” He murmurs, pulling at your panties to peel it off of you. “I’ll make you feel good, okay? No need to be scared, baby.” 

Your breathing quickens, and you feel your cunt throb as cold air fans against it once Oikawa takes your panties off—

“Shit, look at you,” Oikawa groans, brushing the tips of his fingers over your slit. “Such a pretty thing for me.” 

You don’t realize just how wet you already are—your entire body is quickly turning numb—but you do hear the wet sounds Oikawa’s fingers make as it toys with your pussy. 

“It’s so messy already,” He lifts his head to look at you, and a lopsided smile tugs at his mouth. “You that eager for me to use you, baby?” 

You shiver, unable to respond with how heavy your tongue feels in your mouth, only being able to let out silent moans—mouth opened—heavily panting and gasping. 

Oikawa chuckles, all low, and one hand grips your chin in a firm hold—directing you to look down between your legs where his other hand is. “See how wet you are?” 

As he says that, Oikawa pushes his middle finger inside you until the last knuckle, and you let out a whine as you watch how easily his finger sinks in.

God—you feel so achy, especially in your cunt. 

“Look at you sucking me in,” Oikawa keeps his hand on your chin, and you watch the way his finger drags in and out of you—the inside of his palm opened and facing you—the muscles in his hand working as he continuously curls his finger inside you. “Such a needy pussy, love.” 

You let out a whimper, sounding a little frustrated because you can’t feel anything with just one finger, and your fingers dig into the sheets beneath you as you mutter slowly, “Tooru…I—”

“You need more?” He already knows without needing you to say it, not with how needy your voice sounds—spurring him on as he gives your chin a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Those drugs already got you all numb that you can’t feel anything, hm, baby?” 

You nod, and your suck in a sharp breath when two more fingers join his middle—pushing all three inside your greedy cunt—and your eyes roll back when you finally feel a delicious stretch inside you, and the base of your head lolls back to lean against the bed frame. 

“That feel good?” 

You gulp, your voice breathy. “Y-yeah—”

But then you gasp, and your words bleed into a moan when Oikawa presses his thumb on your puffy little clit. 

“Can you cum for me, princess?” You whine, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers when he calls you that, and you close your eyes—feeling the drugs fully kick in and you’re too weak and numb to even move your head anymore. 

But you trust Oikawa to take good care of you—because he never hurt you. 

So you let go, feeling him stretch your pussy with his fingers while rubbing your clit to a throbbing orgasm. 

All you hear are his words praising you, telling you how much of a good girl you are and how pretty you look cumming on his fingers. 

But then—

But then soon after, you feel empty, and you manage to look down with a frown, only to see Oikawa pulling his fingers out—leaking with your juices—leaving your swollen pussy pulsing around nothing.

And he must’ve noticed the little pout you have on because he chuckles—leaning in to give your pouty lips a sweet kiss and murmurs against them. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll fill you up again just the way you like it, okay?” 

You sloppily kiss back—too slow and loopy to respond—and you make a small sound as Oikawa moves you to lay down on your back, feeling your body sink into the plush bed while he lifts your legs. 

Then you feel him guiding your legs over his shoulders, and something hot and heavy slides over your pussy. 

“You just need to look pretty for me,” Oikawa murmurs, voice also getting breathy, and he turns to give your calf a warm kiss, continuing to rock his hips to slide his cock over your leaking folds—making his balls hit your puffy lips. 

He does that, making your pussy drool all over his length as his pre-cum leaks over your tummy, teasing your engorged clit with every bump of his tip against it. 

And all you do is take it, lying there, moaning and panting until his cock finally pushes inside you—filling every inch of your plush walls—and Oikawa groans. 

“Fuck,” He leans down, kissing you because he just needs to, making you lose your mind and moan into the kiss. “So tight, baby, swallowing me like a good little slut for me.” 

And god—you throb around him, your arousal dripping everywhere and making a mess as he continues to sink further inside you until his hips are flushed against yours. 

But you’re too dizzy and muddled to feel the way his fat cock stretches you—how your pussy hugs him and makes him all wet as you cream all over his girth. 

All you feel is this buzzing ache growing stronger and stronger as he sets a pace of fucking you deep and slow—hearing the wet squelches of your pussy to show just how wrecked you are. 

All you feel is something thick lodged into you and choking you as he puts you in a mating press. 

And he fucks you, murmuring how dirty you are, how you take him like a dumb needy slut that always needs her pussy filled. 

All words that are laced with a level of affection where you know he doesn’t genuinely mean it. 

But he knows how much you love hearing it.

And Oikawa is just a caring partner that likes to make you lose it every time he fucks you. 

Even if that means abusing your tight little cunt while you’re brainless and unable to move to do anything about it. 

You whine when pressure is felt on your clit—and Oikawa rubs his thumb in slow circles over your clit, all while his dick thrusts in and out, pulling a trickle of fluid to wet the bed and his legs in the process. 

Soon enough—you’re arching your back, crying out a moan, as another orgasm pulses through you with a sudden snap. 

“There you go—shit—you were made to take me,” Oikawa fucks into you as you cum, gushing out clear fluids as you make a squirting mess on the both of you. 

And fuck—Oikawa loves it when you squirt. 

He loves seeing your face contort with pleasure as you make a mess on him—all because of his doing and his cock inside you. 

“Fuck—you’re so messy, you must feel all loose and dumb, huh, baby?” 

You start to cry, overstimulated from him fucking you through your orgasm, and his thumb hasn’t left your poor little clit.

But you still manage to nod.

And god—Oikawa wants to kiss you senseless at how much he loves you right now. 

“It’s okay, love,” He shushes you, wiping a tear on your cheek with his thumb, your lashes flutter against your cheek as you close your eyes. “I just need to cum, okay?” 

You shiver, only able to mumble out, “Kay.”

You’re fucked dumb by this point, feeling like a rag doll as he holds you and shoves his cock into you with no abandon. 

But he knows how to fuck you to make you cum almost easily—his dick hitting that sweet spot in your walls over and over with every roll of your hips—his balls slapping your sloppy pussy as warmth travels from your core down to your legs, stars shooting beneath your closed eyelids as everything turns white and blurry. 

You think you orgasmed again. 

You can’t tell. 

All you feel is liquid heat filling your bones, a hot and heavy body on top of you, and yourself melting into the bed beneath you. 

“Suck on this,” You don’t know what Oikawa is making you suck on—but your mouth opens anyway, almost instinctively, just from hearing the word ‘suck’ from him.

But then you feel his thumb press on your tongue, and you immediately moan as you wrap your lips around it, sucking it as if it was his cock. 

“Good baby,” Oikawa drawls, voice low and heavy, “your mouth is too sweet to not use it.” 

You just suck some more, letting him hold you down and fuck deep into you until you’re letting out another squirting orgasm—soaking the bed and his stomach—and you hear his groan falter, his pace quickening. 

“You gonna keep all my cum inside you, baby?” He asks that, and you whimper with a nod, giving his thumb a slow suck. 

“W-want it—”

And that’s all he needs to hear to make that final cord in him cut loose, and he’s grinding his hips against yours as he buries his dick as far as he can—spurting out thick loads of cum deep inside you, making your sore pussy drink every drop. 

“Such a good slut for me, baby,” He kisses your lips so gently, lovingly, as the last bits of his sticky cum spill into you—filling you so much that some leaks out while his cock is still inside your cunt. 

You grunt, so fucking exhausted and ready to knock out from whatever the hell Oikawa gave you. 

And he smiles, sweet and affectionate, kissing you one last time before pulling back, his voice soft. “Let me take care of you now, love.” 

And he does. 

With lots of praise and kisses. 

With a warm bath after wiping you clean. 

Even if you feel too dizzy and intoxicated to move properly—Oikawa happily does all the work for you.

He makes sure you drink some water, giving you bits of fruit to eat as well. 

He takes such good care of you after treating you like a fuck toy in bed—

And you smile, all dazed and warm, through it all—your heart feeling so full.

End.

> Masterpost

[eevees-hobbies]

Suo , Kaji and Umemiya are the type to grind your pussy on their crotch while making out , methinks ...

I’m feral. It’s 6AM, and I am READY, Megumi!!!

Ok, but can we truly analyze this??? Because these men have three distinct personalities so I truly feel in my vagina of vaginas that they do it with different intentions. Let’s talk about it.

Content Warning: Making out, teasing, being called a brat, heavy petting, dry humping, it’s smut! Minors Do Not Interact.

Hayato Suo grinds your pussy against his crotch while making out because he revels in teasing you. Suo isn’t enjoying himself unless he’s drawing out your pleasure, making you beg in your sweet, whiny voice that he has come to love personally, ripping from your throat. His headstrong, badass girl is brought to tears from friction and kissing? How cute. No amount of begging for more of him will save you.

“Now, where’s the fun in that? We’ve only just gotten started.”

You, in fact, have not just gotten started, but that’s a non-issue for Suo.

So while his hand is pressed against the back of your head, tongue in your mouth, with you laying flush against his chest where you fit perfectly like lock and key, he’s giving you slow, drawn-out rolls of his hips. Your core squeezes almost painfully every time you feel his hand press down against the small of your back, and he drags himself against your essence-dressed panties. 

And the contrast between you, who is panting, sweating, and groaning from a simple make-out and dry humping session, to him, who still looks perfectly put together, unbothered, and like he can keep doing this for hours, will have you feeling a little panicked—because Suo is nothing but patient.

But don’t worry, Suo just has a really good poker face. If you read him, which you can because you’re a clever girl, you’ll feel the occasional grumble of his chest when you bite his lip, and when he grinds against you, you’ll feel something so ridiculously hard, and is that a wet spot in his pants? 

Because Suo is still a man, after all. A man who is deliriously infatuated with you. And he can only be kept at bay for so long until that mask slips, and somewhere along during the making out and grinding, your panties and his boxers have disappeared, and he’s now guiding your heat-radiating, drooling mess of a cunt onto his throbbing dick.

“S-see? Doesn’t it feel so much better, o-oh god…when we wait, my love?”

Hajime Umemiya grinds your pussy against his crotch while making out because every part of him needs to come in contact with every part of you at all times. Umemiya loves a good, passionate makeout session. The taste of you? His favorite thing.

So when you’re sitting on the couch, and he pulls you in his lap, pressing firm lips against yours, lips that communicate their innate and irrevocable desire for you, who are you to refuse? 

And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but Ume is an amazing kisser. His kisses always start deeply sensual, lips slotted against yours, moving languidly in between gentle words of affirmation.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“You look so beautiful today.” 

“Your hair looks so pretty. Let me mess it up a little?” 

And unlike Suo, Umemiya doesn’t wear a mask to hide how much you affect him. He wears his desire for you on his sleeve and carries it like a badge of honor. 

Don’t get me wrong, you have a lot of power here. When you suck on his tongue, he’s moaning unabashedly into your mouth. When you slide your fingers into his coiffed hair and pull it at the roots, he’s shivering against your touch.

But Umemiya is still a big, powerful man who allows you to have control—until he doesn’t want you to anymore. 

Eventually, he’ll become so engrossed and taken over by how you make him feel that you’ll notice two firm hands gripping your hips in a way that makes it hard to move. You won’t have much range of motion as he drags his clothed cock against the seat of your panties.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to wait long to have Ume inside of you because torturing you is also torturing himself—and Ume can’t say no to you. If at any point you tell him that you need him, he’s nodding feverishly in agreement because:

“Y-yeah, I need you too, baby girl.” 

“Here, let’s just slip these panties to the side and-“

“Fuuuuck, ah, I better…give me a second, ok?” 

“I a-almost lost control there.”

Ren Kaji grinds your pussy against his crotch while making out because he likes to torture you both. 

While the previous two would grind you with clothes on, you and Kaji are both naked, lying side-by-side in each other's arms. He’s holding your face firmly in place with a well-placed hand gripping your chin, full-opened mouth kissing and allowing you to lick at his canines. 

And you’d think it would be just so easy to wrap a leg around his waist, shift yourself a little bit, and then slip him inside you.

But do you really want to face the wrath of Kaji? I mean, maybe you do because you’re into that, but while it might sound tempting, it may not give you the desired result.

“You brat. You’re going to have to work for it before I fuck you.”

So, let’s pretend you don’t do that. You’re just going to have to come to terms with the fact that Kaji is nibbling on your bottom lip as he slides his dick in between your puffy pussy lips, groaning from the heat, the feeling of your sensitive clit rubbing along the vein of his cock and having the power to slide inside of you—something you both desperately want—but denying you regardless.

“I’m not gonna put it in until she’s drooling on it, bratty girl.”

Say less, Kaji. 

Because the way he’s pinching your folds together and jutting his cock between them has your cream lathering up every inch of him. And you’ll think you’ve won because he’s finally pushing the fat tip of his cock inside of you, stretching your aching little hole around the bulbous head—but then, with a hiss from him and a whine from you, he’s pulling out and repeating the motion, reveling in that sound. 

The wet, gooey sound that happens when you slowly press a dick inside a creamy pussy over and over. It’s a sound that makes Kaji lose his mind, a sound that almost has him saying fuck it, and stuffing you up to the hilt of his cock. Almost.

“F-fuck, I love that sound. Do you hear that? You’re so wet for me.”

“Stop complaining, and let me put the tip in for a little longer.”

Amazing idea @melancholymegumi

[inkykeiji]

you make a mess of me

character: alastor

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, blood + blood eating, periods, dry humping, biting (hard enough to break the skin), toxic relationship, noncon, possessiveness + entitled behaviour, pet/master dynamic, unintentional overstimulation + multiple orgasms, unrealistic amount of period blood, slashing/cutting the skin, alastor is getting off on the pain he’s inflicting on you

notes: this fic is extremely dead dove and involves alastor eating your period blood among other things. it gets gross; please read the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: lose control by teddy swims

words: 3.8k

The first day of your period is always, by far, the worst. 

Because the first day of your period is the heaviest, the bloodiest, and, according to Alastor, the tastiest. 

Which translates to: Alastor spending the entirety of the first day with his head buried between your legs, hungrily slurping blood from the most intimate part of your body, large claws curled around your hips and pinning you to the mattress, rendering you completely helpless beneath his grasp—defenceless against his vicious tongue, trapped at the mercy of his insatiable addiction.

You’ve lost track of time at this point, lost count of how many times he’s unintentionally made you cum, lost consciousness more than once, elusive and slipping from between your fingers, an intangible mist that you can’t seem to keep a solid grip on—something that melts in the heat of your palms as you squeeze too hard, too desperately. 

But that promise of pleasure always seems to draw you back into the light of wakefulness, presses gasps of air into your lungs and shocks your mind from it’s muddled fog.

It’s building once more, a dense heat roiling low and slow in the pit of your stomach as it furls in on itself in an almost lazy manner—a ball of fire that grows hotter and heavier, pulses larger and larger as it expands, flares with every swipe of his nose against your swollen clit, singeing surrounding organs, consuming bordering tissues, boiling the blood in nearby tangles of vessels—until it stops, dims, dies once more, withering away to simmering little embers, yearning to catch flame all over again. 

His unintentional edging eats away at your tattered sanity, renders you delirious for release, little fingers tangling in his bangs and yanking, a pitiful attempt to grind his face into your cunt, to catch your slick little nub on the tip of his nose.

The laps of his tongue, once soft as velvet, have turned rough against your licked-raw cunt, every drag of the wet muscle along your slit more painful than the last, sending tiny spikes searing through your gut.

It hurts, but it doesn’t stop you from being a greedy little thing, craving another orgasm, for that sweet, sweet relief that rushes through your exhausted body, that releases the tension building in your muscles, each graze against your clit coiling fibres tighter and tighter until your entire body has gone rigid, aching for reprieve. 

For what it’s worth, Alastor doesn’t really seem to care—if anything, he encourages it, the hands on your hips aiding in your movements as your pelvis rolls up, the motion pushing another rush of warm blood from your hole. His tongue wiggles further inside of you, curls into a hook in response, siphoning the substance from your core into his throat with keen little growls exhaled out his nose.

It turns him into something primal—past animalistic, past inhuman, something ineffably sinister, all of his senses sharply honed on his singular task, antlers sprouting branches the longer he eats from you, the worse the pain grows.

He eats your blood like a starving man, with such vigour you’d think he’s never tasted something so delicious, obscenely drinking from the center your body—a delirious attempt to drain you of your essence, dangerous teeth just barely sealed behind puckering lips and an avid, twisting tongue. 

It sounds disgusting, the crude smacks of his lips and working of his tongue echoing throughout his bedroom in thick squelches, his chin and his cheeks and his mouth drenched in your combined fluids—blood and spit, hurt and hunger.

It’s ritualistic in a sense, the way his tongue sprawls, swirls into your body, cups, and then darts back, scooping blood and tissue down his throat before forming a point, the tip circling the dips and contours of your cunt, sure to clean any remnants his messy eating might’ve left, before repeating the cycle over again.

Anguish turns stifling as he smothers himself with your core, time gone syrupy as it drips by dense glops, unhurried and unavailing. His tongue feels coarse against your once silky skin, now abraded by his incessant feeding, his methodical motions having caused tiny fissures to sprout along your hole.

Any faint flickers of pleasure have been completely eradicated now, morphed into torrid cinders that scorch your skin, pitchy wails scratching at your chest.

Something suspiciously similar to stop! shatters in your throat, your fingers burrowing further into his hair, knuckles rooted against his scalp right next to the base of his antlers and pulling. 

He growls against you, the sound vibrating deep within your cunt, little tremors that snuggle into your flesh like worming maggots, a moan prying past your lips. A large palm flattens between your hip bones and presses down firmly, eliciting a squeak from your chest as it tries to milk your uterus from the inside out, desperate for more blood.

Another sound of frustration echoes behind his sternum, the fingers curled around your hip flexing, his talons further puncturing your flesh.

It isn’t enough for him.

Because, really, when has it ever been? When will it ever be? Your Owner has always been selfish when it comes to his precious pet. 

There are already tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, streaming down over your temples in shimmering little trails. Droplets of salt glitter, suspended in spiky lashes, as your eyes flutter, blinking rapidly to clear your bleary vision and dislodging more water in the process. 

Wordlessly, his head lifts from the apex of your thighs, elbows dimpling the mattress as he uses them to hoist his torso up, nosing along the junction of your hip with one deep inhale and letting the scent of fresh blood, trickling from the tiny piercings his claws have left, lead him. 

His tongue, pigmented a dark crimson, unfurls from his mouth to flatten against your flesh, bathing over the little wounds in slow, deliberate laves. But that isn’t enough, either, a starving snarl ripping from his chest as he repeats the action, this time dragging his lips along, too, using them to encourage another bout of blood from the cuts as he sucks, hard. 

It’s so strong, so forceful it has tiny tangles of vessels snapping beneath the skin, spilling enticingly into the surrounding tissues. A cry rips from your throat, back bowing off the bed as a bruise rapidly develops under his mouth, yet another mark he stains into you. 

But staking such weak, insufficient claims isn’t what he’s here for today.

Something dark rumbles in his chest, the type of greed that’s borne in his core and nurtured by obsession, that rattles his ribs as it aches to escape, to consume more and more and more. 

It’s tormented by the blood trapped below the barrier, ichor that teases him, taunts him, tests him—and, well, that’s just not fair, is it? How dare your body do such a cruel thing to its keeper; how dare your body withhold something that belongs to him.

Sharp teeth sink into supple flesh with zero resistance and scrape, effortlessly removing the first layer of skin and freeing the blood pooling beneath it. His avid tongue instantly sops up the substance, smoothing over the wound and pressing down powerfully, procuring another torrent of crimson. 

But his rapacity still remains unfulfilled—if anything, it only grows in its appetency, that splash of blood serving as nothing more than a canapé.

He needs something deeper. 

With another slow, vast sniff, he trails the tip of his nose along the expanse of your body, hunting for something thick and pulsing and allowing instinct to guide him, ears pricked and tuned into the frequency of a steady, strong pounding—and he finds it just above your belly button. 

Stopping, he licks the area once—a long, broad stroke of his tongue, gliding across your skin and leaving a viscid smear of saliva in its wake. 

Then a claw is puncturing your skin, slicing across your stomach in a controlled line, scarlet immediately seeping from the laceration, the tip of his talon missing your aorta by a hair.

It burns, a yelp sticking in your throat, tangling on a sob as you cough around it, spine arching instinctively. Cooling tingles skitter across the new incision as he breathes out a single puff of air, admiring his handiwork, before his mouth latches over it. 

“Alastor!” you sob out, fingers curling against his shoulders and tugging, his name a garbled mess on your tongue. “What are you doing!”

“Hold fucking still,” he growls into the fresh injury. “Or I will rip your aorta out with my teeth.”

You know he won’t, know he values you far too much to kill you—his precious pet, his perfect little plaything, his prized possession—but that doesn’t mean that he won’t bring you alarmingly close to death—again. 

Even still, and as fun as that is, he’ll never fully go through with it.

Because you’re so fucking obedient—he’s never found someone so dedicated, so devoted, so fucking desperate to please him, to go above and beyond and make him proud, all without a contract. 

And he’s never giving that up. 

Besides, he’s grown quite fond of you. 

Predictably, you obey his order the instant it leaves his lips—never a single wisp of defiance drifting through your murky brain—squirming calmed, even as pangs quiver through your body. 

He’s still for another moment or two, letting that delicious anticipation build, before he dives back into feeding, digs his tongue into the wound and tears it wider, another gush of warm blood rushing to fill the new gaping. 

Another sound of pain cracks through his bedroom, jagged and crisp, and he nearly whines into your stomach, the wriggling of his tongue turned vicious. 

It burrows into the wound, tip hooked as it plunges through the sticky substance, writhes under slippery tissues and broken capillaries in it’s quest for more, the rough voraciousness of it all sending blistering spears shooting through your stomach. 

You’re well past the point of sobbing now, unintelligible pleads spilling past your lips soaked with spit, garbled and howled, but your nails scrape at his scalp, fingers tugging a little on his antlers, a moan vibrating against your flesh as his hands wrap around your hips again, holding you still. 

He feeds on the stomach wound until the blood ceases to flow freely, until it requires too much effort on his part, blood working hard to begin congealing the gash only to be split open by his siphoning, over and over and over again.

Only then does he continue his exploration, scouring your body, nose curving over your ribs and outlining your breasts as claws slit superficial little slashes in your flesh, tongue swiping over them in experimentation, until finally he finds another heavy throbbing, right above your collarbone. 

His breath, pushed from his lips in harsh, fast little pants of hunger, is infused with your blood, the stench of bitter copper stinging your nostrils as it wafts across your skin. It collects in damp little droplets against your neck, his tongue once again unfolding from its cavern to press, hard and flat and wide, against your jugular. 

There’s no licking this time, no slow haul of the slick muscle to glaze the canvas before the inevitable incision, just his tongue held smooth and still pinned over the vein, feeling the steady rush of blood. Saliva drools steadily from the corners of his mouth, drizzling onto your chest in thick glass cords, tinted pale pink.

A shiver scampers up your spine as his irregular huffs ghost over your wet skin, chills erupting across your flesh. For a singular instant, everything is still, stagnant—your breath and his teeth and those wandering claws, the only constant being the pulsating thrum of your blood beneath his tongue—before his fingers are moving again, one palm curling around your neck to hold you still as a keen talon slices into your flesh once more. 

A scream curdles in your throat, stifled by the hand still collaring your neck, his mouth latching over the wound to lap at the blood. Searing pain radiates from the site, shooting along your jaw and shoulder, and your spine arches off the mattress, struggling beneath his body. 

“Stop, stop, stop,” you’re sobbing out, the plead spilling from your lips in a continuous sticky stream, letters tangled in threads of spit. “Please, Al—Master, please!” 

Thunder rumbles up his throat and spills into the wound his tongue is prying open—a warning, or a denial, you can’t be sure—as his hips keep you pinned to the bed, his thighs spreading yours wide, his knees sinking into the mattress. 

You’re trapped under him, helpless and vulnerable to his vicious attack as his lips pucker and his tongue wiggles and his teeth scrape, collecting you beneath their edges. The agony is excruciating as he devours you, as you thrash and cry and tremble pathetically, your efforts entirely in vain and failing to deter him at all, your ceaseless struggling barely a hitch in his routine. 

“Please, please, please,” your chanting, bloated tears weighting your lashes, lids fighting to stay open. “Please, Sir, it—it—Stop!”

A roar ruptures in his throat, rough and loud, and he yanks himself away from his meal, raising his head to glare at you.

“Have you forgotten your purpose, pet?” he spits, flecks of your blood splattering across your cheeks, a smatter of crimson freckles. “Hmm?”

A large hand twines around your jaw and squeezes, hard enough that your cheeks hollow and your mouth puckers. His claws dig into your face as he forces you to look at him, his nose brushing your own. 

“Does Master need to make you write it out a hundred times, again?” 

“No,” you weep, head trembling in a poor imitation of a shake, still locked in place by his bruising grip.

“Then what is it? Why do you exist?” 

“To serve you.” 

“How?” 

“In—In any way you want me to, Master.”

“Exactly,” he purrs, but the word is razored, teetering on the edge of vitriolic. “So be a useful little pet, like you’re supposed to, and let Master take what he owns, what he’s owed.” 

And so, you do. 

Because you’re nothing if not faithfully, blindingly obedient to your owner. 

His grip relaxes, and your jaw raises, neck bowing off the sheets, offering itself to him unabashedly—your body, your blood.

Something nefarious spreads across his face, stretched smile curling at the edges as it reaches his eyes, a malicious little melody playing on the back of his tongue.

He takes a moment to admire your sheer obedience, your willing and unwavering faith him him, a claw tracing the newest injury, leaving behind a shallow outline in your flesh. 

A whimper falls from your lips, but you don’t dare to look away from him, even as the tears lacquering your eyes finally overflow again, streaming down the sides of your head to collect in your hairline. 

“Good girl,” he says, and although his voice is soft, the compliment is sharp—mean, mocking, hardened by a layer of patronization. 

“Th-Thank you, Sir.” 

And then he’s plunging his tongue back in, mouth sealing over the wound tightly, another shrill squeal clawing at your throat. Yet despite the white-hot pain it inspires, his saliva stinging the new contour, you do your best to hold still, to be good, body quivering with the immense effort. 

“Christ,” he mutters, the word muddled with blood as he rubs his mouth into the cut. “Your suffering is so fucking delicious.”

His statement is so sick, tinged with a vile sort of pleasure that churns your stomach, acidic bile collecting on the back of your tongue, the revolt so overwhelming that you almost don’t feel it, twitching against your hip as it fills with blood, hot and hard and straining as his pelvis beings to shift, rutting in irregular little motions.

For a moment, you can barely believe what’s happening, mind numb with terror and shock. For a moment, your mind refuses to believe what’s happening, scrambling to scrape together some sort of patchwork excuse for this behaviour—maybe he was just moving to get more comfortable; maybe it meant nothing at all—but the rutting fails to cease, uneven and unskilled, a moan shuddering his breathing, and your body freezes beneath him.

If he notices, he doesn’t seem to care, the rocking of his hips never slowing, another muffled sound of pleasure soaking into your skin. 

They’re sweltering against your neck, those little noises of ecstasy, every soft moan and cracked whine and hoarse grunt huffed out damp and humid, beading in little dewdrops on your marred skin.

“M-Master,” you gasp before you can stop yourself, wiggling a little beneath him to confirm your suspicions and whimpering when his cock throbs in response. “You—You’re—It’s—”

“What?” he pulls back slightly, chest rising and falling against your own with ragged little breaths. Something smug plays with the corners of his smile, twinkles of sadism shining bright in his eyes.

He’s going to make you say it.

Your gaze flees his own—it’s too intense, eyes watering with a fresh bout of tears, pins of embarrassment pricking your cheeks. “It’s—”

“Look at me when you’re talking to me.”

Immediately, your stare snaps back to his, wide and submissive. 

“It’s hard,” you force words from your tongue, the admission fading to a shameful whisper, face twisting in a wince as if the letters slashed your tongue.  

“What is?” 

“Master—” you flounder, head shaking a little. 

“Go on,” he urges, grinding his hips into yours, slow and purposeful. “Tell me. You’re a big girl.” 

“Your cock,” you nearly whine, eyes squeezing shut, fat tears leaking from the seams. “Your cock is hard.”

“It’s your fault, you know,” he murmurs, tongue rolling over your cheek thoughtfully, leaving watery streaks of blood smeared in its wake, mopping up the salt and swallowing it down, growling a little. “Crying out in pain like that.” 

“Alastor,” you sob out, head shaking in messy little motions. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“It’s quite cute, the way you’re trying to act as if you don’t love this,” he muses airily, another gust of tangy metal nipping your nose as it wafts across your face, his forehead resting against your own. 

Inhaling deep and measured, his ribs expand against yours, sharp bones digging into soft flesh, a gentle tremor coursing through his form as he nestles his face into your own, noses bumping together. 

“You can’t fool me, pet. I know you too well.” 

His thigh hitches higher, wedged tightly between your legs, shoved up against your cunt, the abrupt action eliciting a gasp, your eyes snapping open to search his own. 

“I can smell your arousal, silly,” he says, voice low and smooth, nose tracing along your soiled cheek until his lips are at your ear. “In fact, it’s so strong that it’s overwhelming your blood.” A chuckle reverberates along the cartilage. “I know my pet is a nasty little girl.” 

Barbs of humiliation flush through your body, fiery and stabbing through your veins, and he laughs again, a dark and wicked strain that vibrates from his chest into yours.

“Now,” he begins, the word slimy against your ear. “You’re going to be a good little girl for me and let your Master finish his meal.” 

It isn’t a question, nor is it a request—it’s an order, and it’s an order he knows you’re desperate to obey. 

Because, really, you live for him now, don’t you? Live to please him, to serve him, to make him proud. Because you’re nothing without him now, aren’t you? All of your self-worth wrapped up in your Owner, all of your purpose derived from him, all of your validation sitting heavy on his tongue, desperate to suck those vague compliments and shallow praises from his lips, to swallow them whole, always ravenous for more. 

Because you’re just as greedy as he is, in a way. And he knows it. 

And he loves it. 

His hand wraps around your throat again, pressing his claws into the delicate flesh slow and forceful and procuring new trickles of blood, cascading down your neck in ribbons of crimson.

A groan spills past his lips as he nuzzles his cheek into the tiny wounds, daubing his face with you while his hips begin to increase in speed and force.

Starched cotton chafes the wound on your stomach as he humps away at you, the thin, firm muscles sculpting his thigh flexing against your cunt with each of his movements.

“Ow, ow, ow,” you’re weeping, stuttered by the hiccups catching in your chest. 

“Aw, does it hurt? Huh?” he lifts his head slightly, glowing eyes scouring your face with voracity. “Am I—f-fuck—hurting you?”

The rolling of his hips judders a little as you bawl out a confirmation, gnarled and weighted with spit on your sloppy tongue, a whiny hiss sucked through the gaps of his clenched teeth. 

It all hurts so much, the grinding of his shirt against the slits he’s carved into you and the rubbing of his thigh against your sensitive cunt and the digging of his tongue into his newest infliction. 

It all hurts so much, but you don’t shove him off, don’t push at his shoulders or kick at his hips, arms winding around his shoulders and clutching, a leg entwining with his own, knee hooked over the back of his.

Sharp teeth bury themselves in the fresh slash, persistently oozing on your neck right above your jugular, and gnaw at the borders, raw skin splitting further beneath their razored edges. Another scream gurgles wetly in your throat, mangled by a sob, his responding gruff sound of pleasure seeping into the wound he’s feeding on, white-hot and buzzing. 

The hair framing your temples is saturated with dense salt, the strands beginning to crust and dry in flat little knots against your skin, casualties of the beading sweat and ceaseless tears. 

The flesh of your cheeks feels heated and sore, gone tight from the thick streams of dried tears that stain them, tiny remnants of salt streaking your face.

He must be getting close already, snarls panted out against your shoulder, uncoordinated movements accelerating with each noise you make, faster and faster and faster until finally his teeth sink into your unmarred shoulder, a shriek piercing the atmosphere as his hips stammer, grinding hard, and then still. 

A vicious shudder courses through his entire form as his cock throbs, body rippling beneath the force of it. Hot cum fills his trousers, sticky and thick and so, so much, viscous dollops leaking through the fabric. It’s tacky and blazing against your hip, the little jolts of his pelvis rubbing it in crude bands across your skin. 

Your fingers tighten, clinging to him, desperate for the comfort only he can bring, even as his strong jaw flexes and his teeth burrow deeper into soft flesh, embedded at least an inch or more, his tongue laving in messy strokes over the blood-slicked skin bunched between his lips.

“Master, Master, Master,” you’re sobbing into him, his breath harsh and stinging against the bite. 

Everything aches, muscles pulled taut from agony and anticipation, heavy with tension. Tiny pricks of pain erupt across your body in waves, conjured with each brush of his clothing. Sobs and screeches have left your throat ripped open, every rush of air feeling like an inhalation of razor blades. 

You’re still speaking, still chanting out his honoured title, but your ears have gone numb, your own voice unrecognizable, nothing more than a distinct vibration in your chest. 

It’s only when his cock is beginning to soften that he finally dislodges his teeth from your body, licking over the carvings of his mouth once, twice, three times for good measure before his head raises to look at you. 

The sight is stunning, kicks the breath from your lungs and the fog from your brain, attention suddenly honed on him, tuned into his frequency. 

Strokes of crimson paint his jaw in messy smears, his tongue licking lazily at the blood coating his chin, streaking it further. It’s almost artful in a sickeningly intimate way, how he’s been glazed in you, your blood staining the lines of his teeth and the curves of his gums, his skin shimmering with his own diluted drool. 

His breathing is still frayed, cedar dyed with pungent copper breezing over your face in gentle huffs. A knuckle skims along your cheek, gaping gaze following it’s trajectory, his claws varnished a glittering scarlet, only a shade or two brighter than their natural colour. 

“See?” he pants out, question airy on his tongue but infused with malice, eyes refocusing on your own. Something sinister tugs at the corners of his lips, broad smile stretching impossibly wider, peaked edges of his mouth nearly nudging his lower lashes. “Was that so difficult?”

[inkyajax]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ sunday + grinding on his fingers while he works!

character: sunday warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, extreme teasing, dom/sub power dynamics, pet names (darling, angel, sweetheart), tiny bit of degradation (needy slut), toxic relationship (sunday is a lil mean/controlling/overbearing), taps into sunday’s god complex  words: 1.4k

Thinking about Sunday’s fingers; long, slim, warmed by the gloves, his heat radiating off the thin material. Thinking about not even riding them, but humping them, using them while he deals with something far more important. He won’t put them inside of you, refuses to even take off his gloves as he wedges a hand between your thighs, claiming that this is more than enough to make you cum, sweetheart and he knows you can do it, he knows you can get off from just this. 

Because you’re such a needy little slut for him, aren’t you? Pathetic and acquiescent and willing to take whatever the fuck he’ll give you, even if it’s merely the very tips of his fingers, just scarcely brushing your throbbing clit. 

It’s up to you to do all the work—you’re the one who wanted it, after all; you’re the one who couldn’t sit proper and patient and wait for him to finish with his tasks and duties, too eager and desperate for the tiniest piece of him to stand it—and he declines to put in any effort at all, simply keeping his fingers still and stiff, a hairs width from your cunt. 

As such, it’s your responsibility to make yourself feel good.

He barely pays you a shred of attention throughout the entire tedious process, gaze prim and focused on the documents spread neatly across his desktop, his free hand leafing through papers and jotting down notes. 

But despite his cool, calm, seemingly unaffected demeanour, you know better. 

Because you can see it; his cock, hard and huge and straining against white trousers, just begging for relief. You can hear it; those gentle, almost imperceptible hitches in his breath—a subtle response to your own sweet little noises, whiny little mewls and airy little moans, sounds that melt in the heat of your mouth, sugared frustration on your tongue.  

Every brush of your clit against his fingers pushes another one from your pouty lips, features pinched and tight with concentration, muscles coiled and tense as they work and flex, desperate to achieve your goal. 

Yet despite what Sunday had claimed, it truly isn’t enough, each soft swipe of his fingers only working to fuel the fire roiling in your belly, spritzing kerosene on the flames but never fostering an explosion. 

“S’not enough, Sir,” you whimper after nearly an hour of this routine, a heavy ache beginning to settle deep within your flesh, 

“It’s not enough,” he corrects you, not sparing you a glance. “And I assure you it is, darling. Come, now, be a good girl for me, and show me that you can cum from just my fingertips.” 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you hiccup, lids squeezing shut as tears nip at your vision, aggravation budding at the corners of your eyes. “I need more!”

“Don’t get greedy, now,” he chastises, an implicit warning woven into the sentence. “You’ve already taken one of my hands away, and considerably slowed down my productivity, interrupting my workflow with your neediness. Isn’t that enough?” 

A flash of guilt sears through your stomach, bitter and sharp, and you lip juts out even further,  puckering your chin. 

He’s right—You know he’s right. He’s already making a sacrifice for you by just giving you this—time is money, time is power, time is control, and you’re eating up a substantial amount with your disgraceful desire. How much more selfish could you possibly be? 

“M’sorry, Master,” you slur out, eyes shut tightly enough to crinkle your lids as you attempt to scrape together the tatters of your concentration. “I’m sorry.” 

Sunday says nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitches, curls upward with something sick and sadistic, thick authority cracking in the atmosphere around him. 

With renewed resolve, your hips begin to swivel again, grinding your swollen clit against sheathed fingers. His fingertips flutter softly, just teasing, and your movements speed up, rocking into his feathery touch, the motion just shy of satisfying. 

Something similar to vexation chokes in your throat; a half-stifled groan smothered by your determination to be good, to obey. 

You will not complain again. 

The quick, light drumming of his fingers against your clit ceases a mere moment before your pleasure crests—it’s a curse, how proficiently he knows your body, how perfectly he can decode those precious little gasps, slipping unwittingly from your lips and tinged with exasperation, and those pathetic little ruts, pelvis stuttering as it chases his touch, stomach muscles coiled and clenched. 

He can read you so well, too well, almost as if he made you himself, took blood and bone between his palms and molded it into flesh, into his personal little angel—he is your creator, and you worship him flawlessly. 

It’s obscene, just how wet you are, copious amounts of arousal soaking through the cotton of his gloves to prune his fingers, turning the material slippery, puffy clit gliding over it with fluid ease.

It’s embarrassing, just how wet you are, thick dribbles of slick streaming down Sunday’s drenched digits to collect in little pools on the webs between his knuckles. It’s overflowing, leaking onto his palm slow and steady to seep into the fabric, now stained with evidence of your desire clinging to his hand. 

You’re saturated in sweat by the time you finally manage to orgasm, thin linen of your dress plastered to your form, contouring every dip and curve of your body, outlining every heave of your chest. A garland of tiny beads is strung along your hairline and collarbone, glistening dewdrops streaming down your cheeks and neck and leaving pretty shimmering trails of damp salt in their wake. 

Strands of matted hair stick to your temples, your thighs still tensing around Sunday’s now rigid hand, hips continuing to gyrate in sloppy little circles as you chase residual sparks of pleasure, quick jolts of overstimulation rippling your flesh. 

But despite the dull, dense ache in your muscles, heavy with exhaustion and filled with sand, and the prodigal sparks of pain-dyed ecstasy, pushing sharp hisses through the gaps of your clenched teeth with each bout through your blood, you just can’t seem to stop.

“Th-Thank you, Sunday, Sir, thank you, thank you,” you’re babbling out in hiccups, words hitching in time with the motions of your hips. 

So polite, his sweet little seraph, so devoted to making your gratitude known—it is, in essence, only right to thank your god after he grants you a tiny piece of heaven, a single taste of bliss, Sunday knows. And your reverence will not go unrewarded. 

Because your reverence far exceeds great respect and high regard; your reverence bleeds into veneration, obsession, addiction. Your love knows no bounds. 

Your love is voracious in its worship, devouring any morsel of attention or affection he grants you and being grateful for it—even something as small and insignificant as a fingertip. 

It’s fucking exhilarating to experience such power, and it sends a heady shot of rhapsody straight to his brain, dazing him and infusing his blood. He can feel it oozing out of every pore, clinging to his form like a protective shield, reinvigorating his hegemony and reaffirming his authority.

Yearning against his pants, his cock twitches, the stitches threaded across the groin stretched taut with how hard he is. 

His hand is doused in you—your cum and your sweat and your arousal—and he pulls it free from your flexing thighs to examine it, holding it up in front of his face and turning it; first this way, then that, leisurely admiring the way every inch of his glove gleams in the diffused sun spilling past the stained glass. Sheathed in you, it almost looks like a shimmery satin.

“Such a mess,” he grits out, the words wispy and ragged. “Such a pretty mess you made for me.” 

A pair of gloved fingers tap together in a scissor-like motion, slow and controlled, pupils blown wide with awe as he watches the slick material stick to itself, glimmering in the setting sunlight and separating with minimal effort, strings of your cum strung between the appendages, webby, quivering slightly. 

You’ve since slumped against him, face nearly buried in his bicep as he appreciates the gift you’ve given him. Your breath is hot and humid against his neck, panted out through parted lips in uneven little huffs and stammered by soft whines.

“Rest, angel,” he murmurs, cheek laid against your head after he’s peeled the soiled glove from his skin and stashed it away in a desk drawer for safe keeping. “You did well.”

He knew you would. A god is never wrong, after all.

[lushrue]

thinking real heavy about phone sex with price while he’s deployed (afab!reader, nsfw under the cut, minors do not interact!!)

cw: mutual masturbation, very light breathplay, author has never written smut before 😅

you can hear it in his voice the minute he picks up the phone. he’s tense, frustrated, wired. he’s got this growly tone that you jokingly call his “grizzly bear voice.” it only comes out when too many somethings or somebodys have pissed him off, and that’s not uncommon when he’s out on a mission. he’s so passionate about what he does, one of the things that made you fall in love with him. so the least you can do is provide him with some relief, right?

“love,” you murmur into the phone, cutting off his rant about some recruit running off half-cocked and almost compromising their position. he sighs exasperatedly and you can almost hear him slumping back in his chair. “yeah, dove?” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. you smile despite his sour mood, determined to set him right again. “it sounds like you’re in need of some stress relief, hmm?”

you swear you hear him perk up. it was the trigger phrase the two of you had adopted after you had gotten particularly spontaneous and john almost got walked in on by one masked lieutenant. now, those words meant he was rushing to lock the door and set his phone to do not disturb. “i could use some, yeah,” he said, his voice low and husky. he’d already begun to chub up in his cargos, his palm pressing down on the firmness between his legs.

you smile, getting yourself into position as well. after all, it was only fun if you both got something out of it. you slid your shorts off and settled back against the pillows of your shared bed. “i thought you might say that,” you purred, your voice lowering to match his. “you’ve just been working so hard, lovie. and the days are so long, aren’t they? just so pent up and frustrated.”

the telltale sound of his belt buckle clinking meets your ears, followed by the rustling of fabric and a low groan from your boyfriend. “mmm…yeah, doll, ‘m all pent up,” he replied as he thumbed at his head, pre already leaking from the tip of his hard cock. his breath caught in his throat and you knew from that little hitch that he’d started. so you did too, your hand sliding below the waistband of your underwear to find that delicious little bud.

your fingers pinched at your clit, eliciting a gasp and breathy moan from you. you imagined the look on price’s face, the longing he no doubt had to be with you and replace your hands with his. just the thought of having him home in bed with you made your pussy clench, your breathing starting to speed up. his did too, starting to stroke himself slowly. you loved how he dragged sex out when he was home, but with so much distance between you, you’d almost prefer he dropped some of his characteristic restraint. he was a military man first and foremost, and that meant almost supernatural control over his body and its urges.

“touchin’ yourself, pet?” he asked, which you responded to with a whine and murmur of assent. words wouldn’t come to you at the moment. his chuckle sent shockwaves through you, the wet shlick of his hand barely audible through the tinny phone speaker. “good. tha’s my good girl. just keep on like that, keep makin’ y’rself feel good for me.” even thousands of miles away, he still managed to control you. it was scary and exhilarating all at once, the hold he had on you. price shifted on his cot, the pace of his strokes picking up as he shut his eyes and let his own personal porno play out in his head. he’d been with you long enough that he had your body memorized. he could see exactly how you looked sprawled out beneath him, face flushed and so eager for him. the image made him stiffen harder, if that was possible.

you obeyed, of course. you were his good girl after all. the sound of his heavy breathing was enough to get you going good, your chest heaving as the pleasure built in you. your fingers traveled lower, gathering your own slick on your fingers before pressing two inside. it wasn’t the stretch you needed and you whined, scissoring your digits to mimic the width john provided. you heard him coo condescendingly, a blush rising to your cheeks. “what’s the matter, sweet girl? your fingers not doin’ the trick?” you shook your head in reply before remembering he couldn’t see you. “nuh-uh,” you mumble, thrusting in and out in time with the sound of his strokes.

price groaned at the sound of your breathy voice, the way you got all high-pitched and squeaky when you were horny. “need you, i need you so bad,” you continued, putting the phone on speaker so that you could have both your hands free. you laid the phone on the pillow beside you, your now-unoccupied hand coming up to circle your throat. if you went far enough in your head, you could pretend that it was price’s thick palm pressing against your windpipe, squeezing your neck to give you the head rush you loved. “feels so much better when you do it.” that stroked his ego good, his nostrils flaring as his hand worked more furiously at his aching cock. god, the things he would do to you when he got home.

“you can do it, dove. come on, curl your fingers the way i do. hit that pretty little spot for me.” the moan you let out was all he needed to know you obeyed him. his hand tightened around himself, cum threatening to spill out of him right then and there. but he choked it back. he wanted this to play out just a little longer. “tha’s it, good girl,” he crooned, focusing in on your breathy whimpers. your fingers worked furiously, the pressure in your belly building as you got closer and closer. “god, you sound like heaven. nothin’ sweeter in the world, love.” 

his words carried you closer to the edge, each press of your fingertips against your g-spot sending a bolt of pleasure through you. your back arched, the phone slipping down off the pillow to be closer to your hips. with this new position, he could hear how wet you were, the sound of you delicious in his ear. he groaned, deciding to just give in. he wouldn’t last long with those sounds in his head. “come on, dove, need ya to cum for me,” he breathed out, the wet sounds of him stroking his cock resuming. “wanna do it together. give it to me, baby, i know ya can.”

his encouragement helped, your arousal pulling taut like a rubber band. it was ready to snap, you could feel it. your fingers set a relentless pace, abusing your pussy as the heel of your palm pressed against your clit. “john! john, fuck, i’m gonna-” “i know you are, sweet girl. go ahead, cum for me.” and you did, hard. stars exploded behind your eyelids, low groans echoing in the empty bedroom as you worked yourself through it. the sound of your boyfriend, your captain, finding his own release reached your ears from where your phone sat against the plush of your ass. you picked it up, your breathing heavy as you came back down to earth together. price flopped back down on his cot, a hand over his chest as he willed his racing heart to slow. he was getting too old for this shit.

“good, baby? feel better now?” you asked, taking a moment to relax before cleaning up. you heard him sigh, the sound one of contentedness rather than exasperation like it’d been before. “yeah, dove. you always know just how to make me feel good.” that makes you smile, blinking slowly as you sink into the mattress. “miss you, john.”

“miss you too, lovie.”

constructive criticism greatly appreciated, i wanna write more of this type of stuff but i am very inexperienced when it comes to writing smut!!

[banamine-bananime]

Growing up I lived in an area with a lot of cattle farming and I was very scared of the cows. Do you have any cool facts that will make me either more or less afraid of cows?

oh hmm let me think on that!

facts related to how to interact with cows so all parties feel and stay safe:

they have a very prey herd animal mentality. they want to move with their herdmates. they want to watch any potential threats like people and move away from them. they don't like loud or unfamiliar noises (they're sensitive souls. sometimes if i visit a dairy wearing waterproof coveralls where the cows are only used to people wearing cotton coveralls, just the whisper of waterproof pants rubbing against each other can spook them) or abrupt movements or going into areas they can't see well (and they have difficulty with depth perception due to their wide-set eyes for 300 degree vision, and with high-contrast, so going from sun into shade or vice versa can look like stepping into a white or black void for them and they don't like it)

based on this, we know the keys to low-stress cattle handling are consistency in how you interact with them, calmness (small movements, quiet words to let them know you're there), moving cows in groups big enough to have friends but small enough you can control the whole group without them milling around or the ones in front stopping and causing a traffic jam, and slowly moving them by just barely getting in their "bubble" of "whoa, you're a little too close for comfort, i'm going to move in the other direction" without ever getting into their "YIKES RUN AWAY FROM THIS THING" bubble

the last point involves understanding pressure and flight zones and point of balance:

from Mississippi State University Extension:

from grandin.com (highly recommend as a source of information about animal behaviour and welfare!!! temple grandin my idol since i was like nine i love her so. and i tear up when i think about how much she's done for millions of animals ;_; she's a genius and no lie revolutionized low-stress handling):

pet cows that get doted on enough to bond with people may not see people as a threat so the normal ways we use pressure zones to iinteract with cows don't necessarily do anything for them. you would lead them more like a horse, using a halter. or lure them with treats.

beef cows typically have little contact with people, often just processing (vaccines, preg checks, quick exam for any health problems) a couple times a year, so they can be very wild. doesn't mean they're aggressive, the overwhelming majority are non-aggressive but they have very large flight zones, so if you don't recognize that and approach too quickly, getting deep in their flight zone, that can get you into a dangerous situation where they get aggressive as a last resort. that said, they do usually still choose flight unless their calf is with them. "never get between mom and baby" applies as it does with any species

dairy cows are in between beef cows and pet cows. they interact with people regularly, several times per day, and it's respectful but not doting. kind of a business relationship with their handlers. they're not terrified of people by any means, but they haven't been, like, hand-fed treats to get over their instinctive wariness of potential-predator-like animals, and they know sometimes handling results in unpleasant experiences like medical treatment or pregnancy checks, so they avoid touch and have a flight zone, though it's small (and sometimes they'll calmly let you walk right up to them unrestrained, or approach you and lick you out of curiosity). very very rare to have an aggressive dairy cow (as in, one that attacks you instead of moving away when you're bothering them a little. really bothering them and ignoring body language when they can't move away is much more likely to get you kicked)

bulls are not docile. not every bull will be aggressive, but you should assume that every bull has the capacity to become aggressive with little provocation, and always keep a respectful distance and know your escape route if you have to be in a pen or field with them

cows love exploring with their tongues. any time you're in a dairy barn there's gonna be at least one friendly girl mlem mlem mlemming who won't leave you alone

adding on to the above, there is a slight caveat that you still have to be a LITTLE wary of friendly cows. 99% of the time they're just friendly but sometimes cows in heat will try to mount people. you don't have to be scared of friendly cows but if they're right next to you just keep them in your line of sight so you can move away if they make like they're going to mount. again, not common, never happened to me, but something to be aware of

signs of a happy, relaxed cow: lying down, chewing cud or eating, tail hanging down relaxed, moving slowly with her herd

signs of a slightly wary cow (you have entered the "pressure zone"): standing still/stopping what she's doing, turning towards you, ears turning towards you (watching the ears is a very good way of knowing what she's paying attention to), tail swishing or raised a bit away from body

signs of a distressed cow: vocalizing (they also moo for other reasons though), tail swishing, fidgeting/pawing/looking like she wants to move but doesn't know where to, freezing up and intermittently making erratic movements (back away a little)

signs of an aggressive cow: head down with attention on you, pawing ground, turning to show you their broad side. (turn sideways and calmly but swiftly walk away diagonally)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Arguments II

Alexia Putellas x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first argument

You weren't really one to argue.

You didn't enjoy confrontations. You didn't like yelling.

But you knew this was where it was heading.

Talia stewed in the driver's seat all the way home, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel.

This wasn't how you wanted her to find out.

You had been lucky, you think. You and Talia didn't argue. You had disagreements over silly things over when to feed the pets and whose turn it was to do the laundry.

But you knew, just by looking at the way Talia's jaw clenched that this was heading toward an argument.

You prepare yourself.

It happens almost as soon as the apartment door is closed.

"Lyon?!" She demands," Really, Lyon?!"

It wasn't the best way for Talia to find out, you can admit that. It wasn't that you were trying to keep it a secret. It was that you were told not to talk about it while the details were worked out.

You sigh. "I'm sorry but-"

"I thought you were happy here!" Talia interrupts," At Barcelona. In Spain. With me!"

"I am!"

"You're leaving!" Talia yells," You're leaving!"

"I'm not!" You snap back, hands clenching into fists as you dig your nails into your palm.

Talia scoffs. "Oh, forgive me if I'm wrong but Lyon is in France, yes?! So, yeah, y/n, you're leaving!"

"You're blowing this out of proportion!" You stand chest to chest with her.

You're practically the same height as her now so you're both yelling straight in each other's face.

(You have to concentrate as to not connect your lips to hers because it's unfair just how attractive she is while yelling).

The loan to Lyon had come out of nowhere, as was most emergency loans. It was a string of bad luck for the French team, their keepers dropping like flies until all that was left was two academy players who had never played for the senior team.

You, on the other hand, were twenty-one years old already with six years experience and a world cup win under your belt. You were a proven winner and Lyon were willing to throw an extortionate amount of money at Barcelona to get you on loan.

They offered you bonuses that was bordering on more zeros at the end of a number than you'd ever seen.

Lyon had been knocking on the door when your agent let clubs know you were leaving Arsenal. It had been a toss up between them and Barcelona.

But you chose Barcelona and they still kept knocking.

You agreed to the loan though, if only to get experience in a different league.

"If you want to leave," Talia yells," Then there's the door!"

"Oh, yeah? Well maybe I will!"

"Go on then!"

"Fine!

"Fine!"

You whistle as you make it to the door, crouching down to clip on Prins' leash before storming out into the hallway.

You choose to take the stairs instead of the elevator, working out some of your frustration on the way.

Prins' leash gets clipped onto your belt loop and you take off on a controlled jog around the neighbourhood.

Talia calls you.

You ignore it.

She call you again.

You don't want to continue this argument.

You turn off your phone.

You keep jogging, your feet pounding onto the pavement.

Prins runs next to you happily. He's always been able to keep up on your morning runs and a random afternoon run doesn't seem to faze him either.

Your mind runs just like your feet as you overthink all of your little interactions in the argument earlier. You wonder, briefly, if this means you and Talia have broken up now.

You hope not.

You're not sure how you would cope if Talia broke up with you over this.

Your running slows to a walk as you make your way to the beach. You sit on the sand and just stare out across the sea.

Prins whines a little bit, stamping his feet on the ground.

"Sorry," You say, unclipping his leash so he can run," There you go."

He doesn't though. He just whines a bit more, shuffling closer until his snout is pressed up against your face.

You smile.

"Thanks, Prins," You say, tearfully," You're a good boy."

His tail wags happily.

"He is a good boy."

You nearly burst into tears are hearing a familiar voice behind you.

"Hi, Alexia."

"Hi."

She sits down next to you and you bury your face in Prins' fur, not wanting her to see you cry.

"Nat's worried," Alexia says," She's calling everyone to see where you've gone."

"I turned off my phone. I didn't want to argue anymore."

Alexia frowns. "You argued with each other? That doesn't sound right."

"She was very angry," You whisper, turning on your phone in your pocket.

Alexia can just hear you over the roar of the sea. You've still got your head buried against Prins so your words are muffled.

"She's not angry anymore," Alexia says," She's very, very worried. You've been gone for nearly two hours."

That doesn't sound right, you think but when you fish out your phone, Alexia's right.

You've been running for nearly two hours since the argument.

"Oh."

Alexia chuckles. "Yeah, oh. You've had people looking for you. I think Nat even called your parents."

"I didn't want her to worry. I just wanted to stop arguing," You mumble.

"That's okay," Alexia assures you," But maybe you should shoot her a text telling her where you are so she doesn't worry anymore, huh?"

"Okay."

You text Talia your whereabouts.

There's silence for a long while between you both, nothing but the ocean and occasionally Prins shuffling around to get comfortable.

The sun is setting when Alexia speaks again.

"What were you arguing about?"

"I'm moving to Lyon," You say and Alexia jolts.

"What?" She asks in disbelief," Why? Does Barcelona not make you happy anymore?"

You give her an odd look. "No, it does, but staying out for one season wouldn't do any harm. Lyon has no keepers. Barcelona has two others plus that La Masia girl."

"The one that's always following you around?"

"I think it's sweet. She's good." You shrug. "I'll be back next year anyway."

"Wait..." Alexia blinks a few times. "What do you mean you'll be back next year?"

"It's only a loan," You reply," They're..." Your face goes red. "Lyon's offering the club a lot plus a bonus for me." You're sure that you resemble a tomato right now. "It's a lot of money. Enough to pay for a house in cash. Talia mentioned about maybe finding a place for ourselves."

"You want to buy Nat a house?"

"Well, I want to buy us a house." You frown. "Sorry...is it too early in a relationship to consider that? My Morsa said she was envisioning a house with Momma within the first month."

"No!" Alexia assures you," It's sweet. You're sweet, y/n, but I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."

You turn to look at her. "A misunderstanding? Over what?"

She doesn't get to answer because a body crashes into you and a phone is shoved into your face.

"I found her!" Talia exclaims," I've got her! I've got her!"

On the phone screen is your mothers, both pressed up against each other as they stare.

"Don't do that!" Morsa immediately jumps into a lecture. "Do you know how worried we were?! We called you so many times! We thought you were dead in a ditch!"

"I had Prins with me." It's a weak defence and you know it but you have to at least try. "He wouldn't let anything happen to me."

"Princesse, I love you but your dog is as dumb as a pile of bricks," Morsa says," But I'm glad you're okay."

"You can go to France," Talia says quickly," Not that you need my permission but if you want to go then go. I'm sorry that I yelled. If you want to leave Barcelona then go but-"

"Leave?" You repeat," I'm not leaving. I'm just going on loan."

If you weren't still a little worried about Talia breaking up with you then you'd find the shocked look on her face comical.

"What?"

"It's just a loan," You say," I...erm...They're willing to give me a lot of money for it. I thought, maybe, we could use it to get a house."

"I...You...We...You want to get a house with me?"

"I mean...er, if you want that too. I know that-"

You don't get to finish because Talia drops her phone to pull you into a kiss.

"Yes, I want to get a house with you."

[ellieslittlewh0re]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞)

* ೃ⁀➷ part 1 - part 2 - part 3

pairing - farmers daughter! reader x farmhand! ellie

summary - ellie gives in

additional tags - breeding kink, oral (reader receiving), strap on usage (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), use of words cock/dick, pet names (baby, doll, sweet/pretty girl, miss/ma’am), praise/humiliation, dom/munch ellie, sub reader

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

It had been almost 2 weeks since that last interaction with Ellie. Your dad came home earlier than you expected and almost caught Ellie's lips so close to yours.

Luckily, he didn't and your secret is safe- at least for now.

Ellie, on the other hand, has been avoiding you since. She comes, she works, and won't even step foot inside the house if she could avoid it.

You tried your best to coax her in small ways- wearing the littlest articles of linen you owned, brushing against her body when you went out and offered her a drink, but she wouldn't bite.

You were growing frustrated to say the least, and you tried to relieve the ache every night, but your fingers weren't enough.

You needed her.

Ellie had just came inside the house to grab a hammer that your dad had left on the dinning table, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. She thought she was safe, but she would be wrong.

"Hi Ellie." You sing your siren song, making your presence known to her from around the corner.

"Shit- I-." She stutters, almost dropping the heavy tool from her hands that were slipping from her fingers because she was so fucking nervous.

You made her nervous.

"Why are you avoidin' me? Did I do something wrong?" Your fingers interlock behind your back as you walk towards her, making Ellie sweat more with each step you took.

"N-no, not avoiding- I just-"

"Just what, Ellie? Hm? You're hurtin' my feelings." You play hurt, batting your eyelashes as you take one last step to close the space between you two, your fingers playing with the buttons on her top.

"M' not doing it to hurt your feelings, doll-"

Your hand comes up, ghosting her cheek as you tuck a stray hair behind her ear which makes Ellie freeze up- short circuiting her brain.

"I just-" she moves her head away from your touch, grabbing your hand in hers.

"I meant what I said.. I don't want you to regret it."

You couldn't help but chuckle- finding it amusing that Ellie had no idea how you touched yourself every night to thoughts of her.

You shake your head, your pointer finger looping around the hoop of her waistband, pulling her that much closer to you.

"Won't regret it- I need you, Els.. need you bad." You almost whisper, luring her closer with just your words alone.

Ellie's jaw opened slightly, feeling the quickened breath of her aroused state against your lips, and her eyes darkening, looking at your face and then narrowing in on your lips, repeating until she finally gave in.

She tossed the hammer aside, letting hit the table with a loud thud, grabbing your face with her hands as she chased your lips- tasting you like it was her fucking job.

Ellie wanted to be be gentle with you- give it to you how you deserved- soft and sweet, but she wasn't thinking about that right now.

She wanted to fucking ruin you- leave you shaking and crying. She wanted to hear your begs and pleads for her to stop, but she wouldn't.

She wanted to fuck you, over and over again, and punish you for how fucking hard you teased her.

You whimper into her mouth, letting her take control since you were already weak in the knees, feeling her tongue assert dominance against the muscle.

She pulls away, slightly out of breath as she looked at your pathetic state- bracing yourself against the table, lips reddened and puffy- your expression full of need.

"You're fucking killing me, doll." She wipes the corner of her bottom lip with her thumb, her chest heaving with adrenaline, ready to pounce at any second, but she doesn't.

"Stay the night." You asked, but it didn't come off as a question- more of a demand.

"You know I can't do that-"

"I'll come to you then."

Ellie furrows her brows slightly, mentally weighing out the consequences of her actions.

"What about your dad?"

"I'll wait till' he's asleep- take his truck, he won't know I'm gone."

A chuckle echoed in her throat- in a way that felt like she was mocking you- possibly because you were not this sweet angel that you portrayed yourself to be, and she was getting to know the real you. 

Her arm reaches around you on the table, grabbing the hammer with her chest bumping against yours.

"See you tonight, doll."

-

You tried your best to act normal all day, and so did Ellie. Both you minimized the conversations around your dad, not even daring to look each other for too long because of the plans you two made for tonight.

You were nervous, excited, but mostly nervous- even though this was your own damn fault. You were all tough and big when it was you calling the shots, but you had a feeling that was going to change as soon as you are standing outside her doorstep.

The sun was setting, and Ellie was saying her goodbyes as she walked down the driveway to her truck. You pretend to shrug off her departure, but not before slipping the little piece of paper with her address scribbled on it into your pocket that she had left wedged between the slates of the porch swing.

-

"Goodnight, hon." Your father places a kiss to the top of your head before walking down the hall into the master bedroom , shutting the door behind him.

You waited a good hour- making sure your father was in a deep sleep before taking his keys from the glass bowl on the table next to the entrance and slowly opening the front door, suppressing any noise to the best of your abilities as you stepped out into the moonlit night.

The drive there felt short- too short. It didn't feel like it was enough time to realize what you were doing, but it was too late- currently standing outside of Ellie's house- a small, classic cottage style one-story home- modest, but it had its appeal. The landscaping was bare- unkempt at best, but at least the lawn was mowed.

"Okay-" With one hand at your side- the other knocked softly against the wooden door, tapping your knuckle twice. You straighten your posture, pushing out your chest in your best attempt to make it seem you weren't as nervous as you were. It's not like it was your first time sneaking out, but it was your first time sneaking out to see someone like Ellie and to do the things you had planned to do.

The door creaked upon opening, revealing a slightly surprised Ellie, towel drying her damp hair.

"I didn't think you'd come." She smirked, her cheeks already bright pink as soon as she saw you standing there in your short- borderline lingerie nightgown.

"Why wouldn't I?" You asked rhetorically, tone dripping with suggest as you stepped past her and into the home.

You kick off your shoes by the front door, walking around and looking at all the details. You're were genuinely curious about how Ellie lived.

Even though you see her everyday- she was still quite the mystery to you.

The home was simple and cozy- the same way your grandparents' house would feel; worn leather couches and wooden furniture. A vase with withered flowers sat in the middle of the dining table. Ellie had picked them from a field on her way to your house- thinking she would give them to you, but she never mustered up the courage- so instead- here they were; peddles of faded purples and yellows, dried and crunchy by now, but Ellie couldn't get herself to throw them away yet.

"Can I get you anythin', water?" She asked, sounding obviously nervous. You just had to get that Ellie back- the one who's presence demanded to be obeyed.

You direct your attention away from the flowers, your nail grazing against the grain of the oak table as you turn away from it and step towards her.

"No, I'm okay-" you shake your head, declining the offer gently as your hands held one of hers between you two.

"I've never done this before, miss- m'sorry if I'm not any good."

God, you cranked the notch up on your southern accent- making your words definitely sound like it's straight out of a porno, but it was working on her.

Ellie breath hitched, her body freezing up as your fingers played with the hem of her black wifebeater tank top.

"I'll go easy on you- promise." Ellie said with the best intentions in mind, but it's a promise she doesn't know she could keep.

Your stomach tightened, feeling her warmth radiating into you, and her scent filling your senses- not feeling her touch was starting to physically hurt.

You stood on your tippy toes, your lips lining up to her ear, "take me to the bedroom."

You didn't have to ask twice either- Ellie quickly taking your hand in hers, dragging you down the hall to the last door on the left.

Ellie practically pushed you into the room, kicking some clothes under the bed that she had lazily left on the floor all the while shutting the door- just in case someone would interrupt even though she lived alone.

You take a seat at the end of her bed, propping your legs up on your toes as you let your knees drift apart, and it doesn't take Ellie's eyes long to land on your pink cotton panties- hugging the shape of your puffy lips.

"Fuck-" She huffed- almost to herself like she was in complete denial that such a beautiful girl was in her house, or even her room for that matter- wearing such little and with all the intent to get fucked by her... it was a scenario straight out Ellie's wet dreams.

Ellie fell to her knees before you, her hands resting on yours, and her lips tempting the skin of your thighs.

"Are you sure bout' this, doll?" She breathed heavily. Just from her proximity from your pretty pussy alone- she felt like she was losing control, staying further and further away from her promise to go easy on you, but you didn't care.

"Y-yes ma'am, m'sure." You mew, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as your cunt drips, feeling her breath through the thin fabric.

"Lay back fr' me, darlin'." She demands gently, sense of urgency in her tone that she was failing to mask.

You do as your told like the good girl you are- laying back on the bed, propping your legs up, and bending then at the knee.

Ellie almost whimpers as your knees fall to the side- practically salivating just from the thought of your taste.

"M' gonna touch you now, okay?"

"Mm-hm." You nod from your horizontal position, giving her full permission and allowing yourself to be completely at her mercy.

She simply stands, using her thumb to rub over the cotton clothed bud- her eyes paying close attention to how you squirm from so little.

She was teasing you, testing you, wanting to see how badly you needed her.

Soft, high pitched whines slip off your tongue as her thumb rubs tight circles over your clit. It was cruel honestly, how little she was giving you, but if you kept making those fucking noises- it wouldn't take long for Ellie to break.

You pushed your hips up against her touch.

"E-ellie, please.. it's not enough- need more."

Ellie sucks the air through her teeth before biting down on her bottom lip, her thumb lightly grazing the now soaked patch of your panties.

She lowered herself at the end of the bed, her hands wrapping around to the under side of your ass, tugging you closer to the edge.

She kissed the skin between your thighs, suckling at it to the point it stung, but it felt good- almost too good knowing it was Ellie that was doing it.

"I'm gonna take these off now." Her fingers gently tug at the hem of your panties, watching your face closely to ensure you were okay with her actions.

You nodded eagerly, lifting your ass from the mattress to help.

Shivers were sent down your limbs as your wet lips were exposed to the cool air of the room. Ellie huffed guttural curses, her eyes practically rolling into the back of her head like she was on some sort of high. She kissed closer and closer to your heat- hunger taking over at this point, and eager for a taste.

"Fuck- so pretty.. knew it would be pretty." She talked to herself, sounding slightly deranged and out of it before she flat lined her tongue over your folds.

A high pitched squeal echoed through the room, not expecting the sensation nor have you ever felt anything like this. It was warm, slippery and you felt instantly addicted.

She took her time, licking slow before speeding up the pace on your clit. You twisted and contorted under her touch, but Ellie was quick to hold you down- trapping you with her firm grip.

She lapped up your juices, not letting any of it go to waste if she could help it. She alternated between flicking your clit, sucking on swollen bud and letting plop back into place, and just simply tasting you.

Her tongue stiffened- sinking into the depths of your gummy walls before replacing her tongue with a finger.

You cry/breath out a sign of relief as her long finger sank into you, reaching a spot her tongue couldn't- pulling it out and pushing it back in, repeating the motion before adding a second finger.

"You're so tight, baby- need you to relax." She coaxes, trying her best to sound calm, knowing she was everything but calm.

She couldn't wait to pound into you- leave you breathless and fully screaming her name.

Your walls relax around her fingers, your dress bunching around your hips, and the straps falling off your shoulders- you looked like a painting to her- meticulously and carefully designed, perfectly imperfect- every flaw coming together in the most beautiful symphony.

"Thats it- atta girl, you're doing so good for me." She praised although her tone was rough- coarse like dirt as she was slowly falling apart from the sounds of you- soft, breathy moans- sweet and angelic mixed with the wet, sloppy sounds of her fingers picking up pace inside your cunt.

Your fists clutch the sheets beside your head, squeezing the fabric between your fingers to remind yourself that this was real- not a dream or fantasy.

"F-feels- weird... mm-fhm- feels weird, Ellie." You babbled, a tear threatening to spill from the corner of your eye as you pressed a hand on your lower stomach.

She lowers herself over you to be face to face, her fingers never faltering in pace against your cervix. She soothes, "shh- it's okay, pretty girl. I got you." She kissed the saltwater mixture away from your eye before ghosting her lips over yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to connect them.

Her lips upturn into a sinister smirk, watching you get so fucking needy for her touch, not giving in right away to your pleas of "p-please, miss- mmhm, wanna kiss- I wanna kiss you." Just then, she quickened the pace, her wrist slamming against your clit as she pistoned into you- slamming her lips against yours to soften your cries.

She breaks away, heavy panting fanning over your chaffed, swollen lips, "fuck- baby, I can feel you pulling me in- be a good girl and cum on my fingers, yeah?"

That pushed you over the edge- the corners of your vision turning white, your stomach tightening and flexing as you squeeze around her fingers. You come undone, her pace remained steady as she fucked you through your orgasm, with you clasping into her with your nails digging into the exposed skin of her shoulders. You sing her name, over and over, head dizzy and limbs feeling weak as she slowly removes her fingers.

You laid there- weak and still coming down from your high, but this was just a warm up- she was simply prepping you for what's next.

You closed your eyes, forearm thrown over your face, blissfully unaware what Ellie was doing- she was digging through the drawer of her nightstand, taking off her sweat pants and replacing them with a black harness- a silicone cock standing between her thighs.

She sits on the bed, her back resting against at the headboard as she signals for you- tapping her thigh twice, "c'mere, we're not done yet." Her tone has shifted- the once gentle, loving pitch now felt demanding- almost like it was threat and not a suggestion.

You turn over into your stomach, weakly crawling over to her on the bed and straddled her hips, the length of her strap resting against your stomach.

"Ellie, I don't know how-"

"It's alright,- " her hands held you by your hips with her thumbs soothing over the skin, "I'll teach you."

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, a worried furrow in your brow that Ellie picked up on, "jus' sit on it, doll. I'll help with the rest."

You prop yourself up, using her shoulders for balance as you line the tip with your entrance, Ellie mumbled a breathy "that's it- there you go, pretty girl, just like that."

A whimper vibrated your throat as you sunk yourself onto her cock- just the tip at first as she coaxes you to keep going. It burned, and for a second you thought she was tearing you open, but the more she praised- mixed with the feeling of her hands over your breasts and neck- the pain started to lessen, and was replaced with pleasure.

Her hands gripped the fat of your ass, squeezing it between her fingers as you let yourself get accustomed to the pressure.

"Such a good girl, taking it all in- are you sure it's your first time?"

You nod, your eyes shooting open to meet hers- dark and transfixed on your face.

She chucked lowly, her hands slipping under your nightgown- cupping your breasts. You moaned- feeling her calloused fingers playing with your hardened peaks, twirling the bud and pulling it back- making you wince.

"I wanna see you- can I?" She asked, already pulling the dress over your shoulders- leaving you completely bare.

"Fuuck- such a pretty little thing." She leaned forward, sucking the delicate skin around your nipples- kissing and licking, leaving a trail of her spit wherever she went.

She sucked your nipple, letting it plop back from her pretty pink lips.

"El-ellie- please.." you pleaded- desperate for ache to go away that was quickly building inside your tummy.

"So needy- you want to be fucked that badly, huh? Move your hips then, baby." She spoke condescendingly, sitting back against the bed frame like she was as relaxed as ever, but that couldn't be more wrong.

She was losing it quite frankly- she was growing impatient and wanted nothing more to have her way with you, but she was letting you get use to it for your own sake.

Her hands guided you by your hips, gently directing you back and forth, up and down and so on- no rhythm in mind- no, she wanted you to be close, but never getting there.

She wanted to hear you cry out for her help, and it didn't take long.

Your legs were shaking, hips were starting to ache from the compromising position. You were weak on top of her, resting your head on her shoulder and you needed her help- being too fucking dumb to do it yourself- so, you give in.

"Mm-pl-please, ellie.. can't do it."

Her hand wrapped around your head and interlocks your hair between her fingers before yanking your head back, forcing you to look at her.

"Need my help, huh? Can't do it yourself, doll?"

You shake your head, indicating a 'no' to the best of your abilities, but her grip was tight.

"Poor thing-" She spoke coldly, a smirk on her lips and a killer look in her eyes. She was preying on you- waiting 2 painfully long weeks for this exact moment, and it was finally here.

Her hands gripped the underside of your ass as she leaned forward, pushing you on your back and with her on top.

"Been waitin' for this, you know? Always wondered what you'd look like on your back all ready fr' me, fuck- you're unbelievable." Her chest heaved as she spoke, her voice deepening into an almost growl.

"M-me too- been wanting this since I've met you."

"Yeah?"

"Yea-" your voice cuts into a yelp as she thrusted into you, the length of her cock fully disappearing inside your pussy.

She kissed the inside of your knee that was draped over her shoulder like it was the last gentle gesture she would give you for the night.

Tears quickly gathered at the corners of your eyes, trialing down your cheeks and neck as she snapped her hips forward, pounding against your sweet spot every fucking time.

After the first few minutes, you were already gone- head dumb and toes curling, nails digging crescent shapes into her forearms and biceps.

Ellie was becoming more vocal- not as much as you, but she moaned and grunted- the base of the strap hitting against her clit just right. She was chasing her own high- fully getting off to your sounds, and how your slick coated the length of her cock.

Her hand came down, pressing and hand over the bulge in your tummy, "you feel that? - mhm, fuck.. I'm so deep inside you- gonna get you pregnant.. make you my little wife."

❥ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @tfuuka @mattm1964 @tlouadditc @bugaboodarling @robinismywifee @omgidksblog @bf4iy4z @ellieswifee @endureher @asteroidzzzn @machetegirl109 @thatgiraffefromtlou @locaforellie @bellaramseysgirlfriend @wannabwanted @iconsoft @pick-me-up-im-scared @elliesmainhoe @feelsoseencantdream @okayyesbutno @elsbouquet @lastofvenus @aouiaa @p1llowthoughtss @333stvrlightt @urmomishotyes @333stvrlightt

[s-brant]

Teacher’s Pet

Anakin and Y/N’s relationship has always remained professional. Despite her obvious feelings for him, he never let himself entertain thoughts of reciprocating them…until now.

10k (18+)

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex, cockwarming, exhibitionism, choking, strong language, inappropriate relationships, she’s his padawan but they’re both of age and he didn’t know her for that long, and hints of possible yandere anakin.

-

She knows it's wrong.

Every time he offers a mere glance in her direction in front of the others or rests a hand on her shoulder in a silent gesture to calm her in moments of particular anger, typically directed at the council, she feels as though she will burn alive from the sin she cannot stop committing. Not only is it against the Jedi code to form attachments, but for there to be an intimate attachment between Padawan and Master is an affront to everything they know. That being said, Anakin has never been the type to allow the rules to keep him from indulging the impulsive yearnings of his heart.

It wasn't intentional.

After all, he tried to keep himself under control since Y/N was given to him as his first apprentice. It seemed fitting at the time. Most of those in training were discovered and brought to the Jedi temple as younglings, yet Y/N was not. Hers was a path that was far more unconventional than most. He himself was an unconventional Jedi Master, so it only made sense to him that the council chose to place her with him. She was brought to them when she was a young teen, when Anakin himself was still learning under Obi-Wan, and she didn't see much of him for years.

There were always moments in which they would pass one another in corridors or end up in the same room, but they scarcely found reason to interact much with one another due to their respective responsibilities. Being older than most, Anakin included, when they were brought to the Jedi Order, she had to learn such basic knowledge at a rate others her age were given years to accomplish.

This impressed Anakin from a distance, however, he was too wrapped up in his own dealings at the time to concern himself with what someone four years his junior was doing at the time. It wasn't until after he passed his trials and became a Jedi Knight that their lives became intertwined.

It started with her.

When she first began training under him, she was much like an annoying young puppy, always nipping at his heels and following as his shadow with every step he took. It was clear for everyone to see that Anakin resented the fact that he had to deal with someone as hard-headed, relentless, and precocious as she, but all Obi-Wan could do was laugh at how blind Anakin was to miss the glaring similarities between him and his apprentice.

And where Anakin became annoyed with her, she became enamored with him. It was the classic case of the schoolgirl becoming infatuated with her teacher, which was part of what fueled his annoyance with her. He could feel it. When she was distracted or too comfortable, forgetting to shield her thoughts or emotions from him, he felt it. She might as well have been shouting her feelings out loud to him, and he prayed, on the rare occasions when it would happen in close proximity to others, that neither Obi-Wan nor any of the others picked up on them.

Mercifully, the images he saw coming from her mind were mostly innocent in nature during that first year they spent together. It never escalated past what was appropriate for a young woman of her age to fantasize about, and she never took it too far out of fear that he could, in fact, sense the direction of her thoughts. Later on, she became better at keeping those feelings and thoughts to herself, but, still, some managed to slip through the cracks.

It was months ago.

Now that three years had passed since he first took her on as his apprentice, she'd become a woman right before his very eyes. Of course, she was only a few years off from officially entering adulthood when they were first assigned together, but he always saw her as a child until the past year or so. Until he saw an image from her mind that changed things.

She was late to their agreed-upon meeting time in the morning, so he took it upon himself to seek her out for an explanation. Within him, he felt the anger bubbling up, poised to explode the second he found her doing whatever it was she felt was more important than their duties for the day, but the moment he got to the door of her private quarters, he halted in place. A strange sound came from within. He couldn't tell through the walls if it was a cry of pain or sorrow, but the sound of her crying worried him nonetheless. It sprung him into action, reaching out with his mind to see if he could feel her there, but what he found when he reached her wasn't what he expected.

Anakin is nothing if not protective and possessive over those he cares for, and his Padawan, whether he found her annoying at times or not, is someone of great importance to him. And, in all fairness to her, she hadn't been annoying to him for months. Slowly, the frequency of the images and feelings she practically shoved into his mind began to dwindle, and after years by his side, she no longer followed him around incessantly. In fact, he found himself searching for her wherever she wandered off to be by herself quite frequently and realized, underneath the cold exterior he put on to keep her at a distance, that he missed having her nipping at his heels all the time.

So, being as protective as he is toward those he cares for, he thought someone or something must have hurt her, whether it be emotionally or physically, to make her cry and didn't waste a second before trying to intervene. But there was no emotional or physical hurt to be found on the other side of that door. There was only pleasure.

There were positively lewd images coming to life in his apprentice's mind, but what stunned him most of all was that they were of him. No, them.

Anakin is no hypocrite. He would not admonish her for feeling sexual desire seeing that it wasn't directly against the Jedi code. Although he was sure Master Yoda and Obi-Wan would not approve, he had indulged in such desires before. As long as he did not form any attachments, there was nothing saying he couldn't, so he did. What she was doing, though...that was different.

He thought that it wouldn't have messed with his head so much if it weren't him she pictured pinning her to the mattress, thrusting into her with his ungloved prosthetic hand squeezing the sides of her throat, but that foolish idea quickly vanished. Once his mind actually wandered to the thought of someone else being the object of her desires, he became crazed with jealousy. No, he decided, he would never be okay with that. Even though he already had sex with others in the past, he couldn't stand the idea of her in the arms of another. It was always there, lingering beneath the surface, but even if it wasn't, he realized at that moment that he wanted her to himself.

That was when things changed between them.

Y/N had never known him to linger so much. He began to spend more time with her outside of their necessary training and missions they went on together, which meant the only time they spent apart was the hours that they slept at night. Then came the touching—his hand brushing the back of hers "accidentally" beneath the table as they ate, his arm thrown over her shoulder, and his hand on the small of her back to guide her in the right direction whenever she gets turned around. It appeared to her that he seized every opportunity he could to get his hands on her, but she didn't know what to do about it.

Wanting him had been one thing, but the possibility of Anakin wanting her back was another thing entirely. She felt safe in her assumption that nothing would ever happen between them, but everything changed last week.

He took her out soon after everyone was due to retire for the night and walked with her, shielded by their hoods, through the streets of Coruscant. Not wanting to be recognized in their Jedi robes, he came already wearing a rather unassuming, common cloak over a plain pair of pants and tunic. She changed out of her robes in the adjoining bathroom while he stood watch and waited, then came out with a nervous smile plastered on her face.

He said, "Come along," and turned toward the door to her rooms.

As they traversed the streets without as many people turning their heads to look at them as usual, she couldn't help but feel a weight come off her shoulders. Her hand twitched with the urge to reach for him, then, a second later, Anakin draped his arm over her shoulders and didn't protest when she reached up to entwine their fingers. It was strange, but she didn't dare to question it out of fear of losing the dreamlike moment too soon. She feared that if she spoke of it aloud, he'd realize his mistake and rectify it immediately. But she was wrong. Earlier that day when he saw her laughing with Obi-Wan, something within him snapped, and once he decided his fantasies of her weren't enough, there was nothing that could stop him from taking what was rightfully his short of her refusal to partake.

She held on tight to his hand as they entered a seedy-looking bar in the bowels of the city, eyes turning wide at how those surrounding them indulged in drinking, dancing, and even kissing out in the open without shame. Sending her feeling of surprise, he found his assumptions about his Padawan to be true—she had never gone out and entertained her fantasies as he had during his training.

He didn't let her drink, even though he noticed how she eyed up the people sitting at the bar with great interest.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, standing alongside him with her back to the wall.

"I've sheltered you. When I was in training, I figured these things out for myself. I know Obi-Wan wouldn't have encouraged it."

"Master?" she asked with a quizzical expression.

Anakin said nothing. His face was unreadable, a mask of calm that gave her no clues as to what emotions lurked beneath, and when she tried to sense his mood through the force, he was able to resist her. Being as advanced of a Jedi as him, it's harder for her to reach for his mind than it is with her fellow Padawans. Rather than explain his meaning, he turned and made his way to the back hallway, but not without taking her by the hand to guide her. The leather of his glove was cold on the bare palm of her hand. She could feel the hard material of his metal hand through the fabric as it gripped hers.

In a room at the end of the hall, a series of couches and chairs were laid out across the open space and occupied by scantily clad workers engaged in intimate relations with customers.

He spoke, slowing down to allow her to step in front of him, "I used to come here. When I found myself wanting to act on the types of urges that lead to attachments."

Her brows furrowed, though, deep down, she suspected where the night may lead them. No, where he was leading them.

"Is that why we're here?" she asked, breathless, then looked over at a woman who was on her knees before a man in front of them.

There was a wide-eyed, almost excited, curiosity to her gaze that set Anakin's body aflame. Yet, at the same time, it was nothing she had ever seen or engaged in before, so it caused her to take a step back into where he stood at her back. Her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her back until there was no space left between their bodies. Then, he crouched down to bring his face to her neck and delighted in how easily her head turned to make space for him. The hand flattened against her belly could sense that she was holding her breath in anticipation.

"Go on," Anakin said, his hot exhales clouding against the sensitive skin of her neck, "Choose one. I know you've been curious."

And while she had already stopped breathing, the last thing he said made her entire body go still. He knew. Somehow, he knew. When his metal hand came up to grab the base of her neck and squeeze it gently, she knew he was answering the question she unknowingly asked him.

In answer, she ground the curve of her ass against the presence of his growing erection and said, "I don't want any of them."

What happened afterward left her in a frazzled state of disarray for days. All of her friends noticed the change in behavior, yet she waved it off as not having gotten enough sleep lately and pretended not to be thinking of how Anakin had fucked her in front of all those people at that bar. Granted, everyone in that room was accustomed to it, but, to her, it was the most scandalous thing imaginable.

Anakin, on the other hand, made a fair attempt at hiding how he felt about it. Even when Obi-Wan asked him if Y/N was okay, saying that she'd been acting off, he kept his cool and said he had everything taken care of with his apprentice. It wasn't the first time he spoke to Obi-Wan about her behavior. When he first took her on and began training her, he sought his master out for advice on how to handle the—at the time—one-sided crush she had on him. And, for a while, Anakin followed the guidance provided to him by his mentor. He tried. He really tried, but, in the end, he couldn't help himself.

The past few days, however, have been an exercise in discretion on both of their parts.

They've been trapped inside of a ship with Obi-Wan all day, battered and exhausted from a battle which they hardly escaped from unscathed, on the journey back to Coruscant.

She sits on her own, trying to busy herself with inspecting the superficial wound she sustained on her outer thigh amidst the scuffle, while Anakin pilots the ship with Obi-Wan sitting beside him in the cockpit. It isn't deep enough to require attention beyond basic cleaning and bandaging, so she decides to leave it be until they return to the Jedi Temple where she can properly wash it. It won't be long now if what she overheard moments ago was true. Apparently, they're due to land in Coruscant in a matter of moments, and she couldn't be any happier to hear it.

It's been difficult these past few days. Not only due to their efforts to stop Dooku's attempt to kidnap Chancellor Palpatine, but because of what happened between them last week. Because of everything that has been left unsaid. It's not as if she can blame him for it. There are far too many eyes on them at all times of day for there to be an opportunity to talk about it, and once they caught wind of Dooku's plans, it was no longer a priority.

Anakin can feel her staring.

In fact, he's felt her eyes on him for the whole duration of the trip. His knuckles tightened on the controls of the ship as he resisted the urge to turn to catch a glimpse of his pretty apprentice. Thankfully, she had the foresight to keep her thoughts as innocent as possible to prevent Obi-Wan from picking up on any of it. He may be able to tense the tension surrounding them, but that could be easily written off as a consequence of their mission. He knows how much Anakin cares for her, and seeing her injured at the hands of the enemy sent him into a frenzy, keeping Dooku constantly on the defensive until he managed to escape. Obi-Wan watched as Anakin rushed over and demanded to see where she'd been hurt, on guard for any potential threat while the two of them assessed her minor injury.

It isn't until he feels Obi-Wan's hand on his shoulder and yet he realizes he landed the ship, having operated on instinct as he became lost in his thoughts of her.

"You did well," he says, then his face softens, "She's strong. She'll be fine. Don't blame yourself for it."

Anakin nods.

"I know. It wasn't anyone's fault. She was to learn how to handle losing and getting hurt somehow, doesn't she?"

This response seems to please him.

"Yes. Now, you can escort her to a medic. I'll brief the council on what happened with Dooku."

With that, Obi-Wan turns to walk away and disappears past his line of sight. Before he leaves the ship, he offers a few words of praise to Y/N on his way past. And after days of being forced to ignore what happened between them, they're finally alone. The energy in the room shifts the second Obi-Wan is gone. They can feel the tension in the air sizzling like a current of electricity between them. It's palpable. Through the force, they can feel each other's emotions flaring up into something uncontrollable after days of keeping themselves on tight leashes.

She hangs her head low as he comes to a stop in front of her.

"I'm sorry, master. I'll be better next time," she says softly.

In lieu of a verbal response, he outstretches his flesh hand to her in a silent command.

Her voice is hushed when she asks, "Anakin?" and he thinks his heart may beat out of his chest at the sound of her saying his name. The last time he heard his name fall from her lips, he was buried inside of her with one hand wrapped in her hair and the other gripping her hip for leverage to thrust into her.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he says before she drives herself mad with guilt over how the fight unfolded. "Come on, let's get you fixed up."

His hand is warm. It's larger, closing tightly around hers and using that unrelenting strength of his to tug her to her feet. Seeing that he held an arm around her waist on the way back to the ship before they departed—just in case she walked with a limp, he doesn't let go of her. He simply moves his hand to grab hold of her arm instead to keep the contact from looking too intimate when they enter the Jedi Temple together. Holding hands would look odd to any passerby, but no one would think twice about him holding her arm for support with a visible blood stain on her pant leg.

Actually, most people try to stop and ask if she's alright, but all it takes is a polite, "I'm fine," from her to get them to back off. In truth, she is fine. The skin is sliced open from the end of Dooku's lightsaber barely grazing her thigh in the midst of the fighting. She anticipated his next move and made sure to dodge, but it was a second too late. All Anakin saw was her groaning from the pain and stumbling back a few steps with her hand on her thigh before he rushed forward to defend her.

It's not a severe cut, but, of course, Anakin must make a fuss about helping her walk. She soon notices that he isn't guiding her to the medic's room, they're walking in the direction of his private rooms. They're on the opposite side across from hers, males separated from females, and he can feel her squeezing him tighter in reaction to it. He also senses her excitement. It lights up her face as she looks at him, analyzing every minute movement and twitch in his expression in hopes that she may yield something from it. He doesn't appear to be as paranoid as she is about someone seeing them go into his room together. When she turns her head from one side to the other to keep a lookout, he stares ahead and keeps pulling her down the hallway.

It isn't until the door is shut and locked behind them that she can finally let out the breath she's been holding since she realized where he was taking them. Before she can say a single word to him, he grabs her by the face and rushes forward to kiss her.

Y/N melts into the warmth of the hard, muscular body pressing into hers and reaches out to brace her hands on his biceps as she stumbles back a step from the impact of him crashing into her. Amidst the sudden arousal sparked by kissing him, their parted lips press hard into one another's in a dance for dominance that leaves them both breathless.

As soon as they pull apart, she's reaching for the band of his pants hidden beneath his robes, but he doesn't let her. Her hand is stopped short in its tracks and held in an invisible hand that keeps her from palming his cock through his pants as she planned on doing. Their lips part with the wet smacking sound, and he shakes his head against hers.

"You're bleeding," Anakin says as an explanation for the abrupt rejection that leaves her chasing after his lips as he withdraws from her.

She shakes her head and looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"It doesn't hurt."

A lie, of course, and not one she pretends to think fooled him in any capacity.

Playing along, he furrows his brows and allows the side of his mouth to upturn in a smirk. "Oh, it doesn't hurt?" he asks, reaching down to gently squeeze her injured thigh.

The sudden pain that pulses through her leg makes her body jerk against him, drawing a stifled grunt from her lips. As soon as he lets go, she's already smacking him on the arm and calling him every bad name in the book for pulling that little stunt.

"That was mean!" she whines and tries to twist her way out of his grasp, but he holds on tightly to her.

He says through a soft chuckle, "Well if you just behave and let me help you, I won't have to be mean."

At first, she huffs in annoyance, prepared to roll her eyes at him as she's grown accustomed to doing whenever he teases her now that she's grown out of wanting to please him all the time. Then, she takes note of how the cut, already cauterized from the weapon that made it, stings since he put pressure on it. There's a fresh spot of blood blooming on her pant leg, and she can't find it in herself to refuse his help.

Ever the obedient apprentice, Y/N says, "Yes, master," and walks past him in pursuit of the bedroom that is visible from where they stand.

It's difficult for Anakin to repress the noise that longs to escape him at the sound of her calling him that. She may not know the extent of what it does to him yet, but on some level, she must know that it turns him on. As wrong as it may be, he hasn't been able to withstand her calling him that for months. The shame he felt every time his cock twitched in his pants at the sound of it was too great to measure, but it wasn't enough to keep him from arousal.

He takes his time in gathering what he needs before meeting her in his bedroom.

Everything is stowed away in a designated cupboard for instances where he returns to his rooms with a scrape or cut, but he can sense that she's seconds from bursting with anticipation, so he draws it out for the sake of allowing her to suffer for a moment.

When he walks in, he takes one glance at her and simply says, "In here," then disappears into the adjoining bathroom she had yet to notice.

She smiles to herself and follows along right away. Through the opening in the door, she can see him at the counter, laying down the supplies he gathered and pretending like he's not paying attention to her even though they both know he is. The light in the small room is warm. The orange-yellow tone of it brings out the lighter undertones of his hair, and she can't help but reach up to brush it back from his face.

Anakin goes still for a split-second, then leans into where her hand makes contact with the side of his head in a movement so slight, she questions whether or not she actually saw it.

His gloved cybernetic hand pats the open counter space once.

"Up," he commands.

Obviously, he doesn't expect her to do it herself with the cut running up the side of her thigh, so once she puts her hands on the countertop for support, he takes it upon himself to grab her on the underside of her thighs, careful to stay away from her wound, and hoist her up onto the counter.

The silence is overwhelming on its own, but with the natural tension that always spikes whenever they're alone together added to it, she can hardly breathe. He makes quick work of her pants and shimmies them down her hips with little effort. The contact of the fabric brushing against the open, bloody skin causes her to wince, but he's quick to murmur an apology. Other than what he did in his bedroom to test the honesty of her claim, he'd never do anything to hurt her. At least, not on purpose.

She watches him dampen a washcloth with warm, soapy water and kneel down in front of her, then braces herself for when it'll make contact with the laceration. To give credit where it's due, she only flinches a tiny bit as he wipes down the length of her thigh.

After another moment of this, she finally summons the courage to ask the burning question she's had since the night they spent in the city together.

"Are we ever going to talk about what we did?"

This halts his movements for a second. The hand using holding the soapy rag moves from her leg to toss it into the sink, then picks up another soaked in water to rinse the soap from her skin. At first, he doesn't answer her question. He just squeezes the water out of the cloth and allows it to wash the mixture of blood and soap from her thigh. It takes a few seconds of hesitation for him to acknowledge what she said.

He looks up at her, and, suddenly, every fear she had that it was a one-time thing, that he used his power over her for sexual gratification, is blown away like dust in the wind. His eyes are soft when looking at her. So unlike the cruel, steely-eyed glare she watched him give Dooku when she was hit by his lightsaber.

Anakin tosses the soiled cloth into the sink alongside the first one and reaches for the gauze pads he unwrapped before she came in.

"You're ready to talk about it?" he asks with an undercurrent of skepticism.

What he doesn't say—what she can feel through the force as well as the powerful connection they've developed—is that if she is ready to have that conversation, there's no going back. He kept himself at bay for far too long, and if she wants him the way he wants her, he's prepared to risk everything for it. That's the thing about Anakin. He lives in extremes, and now that she has become the target of his fixations, there's nothing he wouldn't do for her.

She nods.

In the silence that follows, she's left to assume that he's offering her the chance to speak first lest his assumption as to where this is headed ends up being wrong. He busies himself for the time being by pressing the gauze pads down onto her wound with harsh pressure to keep her from bleeding anymore, and reaches for the medical tape to secure them in place.

"I liked it..." Y/N says softly. "But"—his chest stops moving up and down at the use of the word—"what if they find out? We've been taught that attachments are bad, but, every time I'm with you, I can't help but wonder how it could be so inherently bad if it feels so right."

Her thigh is lifted from the countertop under guidance from his gloved hand as the other wraps her wound, packed with gauze, with a bandage to keep everything in place. Still, he has yet to look at her again. His eyes are fixed on her injured thigh with an intensity that would frighten many, but not her. Never her. Without a second to spare, he finishes wrapping her thigh and looks up at her from between her legs.

He shakes his head, the sharp motion of it toeing the line of being neurotic, and he slides his flesh hand up the length of her unharmed thigh. It comes to a stop at her hip, teasing the edge of her undergarments.

"You know, they're not always right about everything," Anakin says. His pointer finger slides until it reaches the band of the thin fabric separating his touch from where she wants it most. During this, his gaze never leaves her face. "They'll never need to know about us. We're alone together all the time and nobody questions it because it's for the sake of your training. The council doesn't think anything of it." His mouth curves up at the end again in one of those terribly charming half-smiles that weakens her knees. The tone of his voice turns soft, yet deadly serious when he says, "I'll protect you if it comes to that."

Not missing a beat, she counters, "I don't need your protection."

He huffs a laugh at this.

"I know that. You're powerful. That's why they put us together." He reaches up with his gloved hand to take hold of the opposite side of her underwear, a signal for her to lift her hips off the counter. A signal she complies with without thought. "I just meant that, together, they can't stop us from doing what we want." His eyes soften as he slips the garment off around her ankles. "From being with who we want." A beat of silence. His soft lips press into the inside of her thigh, inching up and up and up all while he keeps eye contact..."They can try but they won't take you from me."

At last, when his head is nudging her thighs further apart and his lips brush the pulsing heat that lies between them, he senses her surrender.

Y/N's head tips back, mouth falling open with a quiet moan, when he licks into her. The arousal is sticky where it coats his lips and chin, and he can't help but hum in approval of the distinct scent and taste of her that overwhelms his senses. This was something he didn't get the chance to do in that questionable back room at the bar. It wasn't as if he didn't prepare her for it, he warmed her up with his fingers, but it wasn't exactly the kind of place he wanted to do this at. He didn't want anyone else to see her undressed. Seeing that her robes covered her the whole time, he didn't have to worry about it that night.

It starts out as gentle, tentative licks that circle her clit without giving it as much attention as she wants. He works her up to it slowly, as if to taunt her, and it isn't until her fingers begin to tug at the strands of his overgrown hair that he gives in. Her hips jerk forward against his face instinctively when he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks hard for the sake of drawing a noise out of her. Of course, he gets what he wants. The heavenly sound she makes has his cock straining against the confines of his pants, and there's nothing he can do to satisfy it unless he resorts to rutting up against the cabinets beneath the sink.

Every breath she exhales becomes shakier as the seconds pass with his head buried between her thighs.

"M-Master," she whines, unsure of whether or not it's appropriate to use his name yet. She's only ever called him by his first name when the situation at hand causes her to forget her place. Considering that he's currently going down on her, he'd say that they're well past the point of such formalities, but he also likes that there's still a touch of obedience left in her. "That feels so good..."

His lips leave her clit for a second to allow him to dip his tongue into her entrance to get a better taste of her. Both of his hands are now gripping her hips to keep them in place as he ruins his apprentice with little regret or guilt left to flow through him. Past the point of no return, he no longer clings to his last scraps of morality in regard to his strange relationship with her. In the days following their secret tryst, he was trapped in a strange internal debate. He was torn between duty and love, caught between unstable moods that caused him to become hot and cold with her depending on whose company they were in. Whenever Obi-Wan was near, he couldn't allow himself to interact with her as he typically does. He didn't know if he could control himself.

The hand wrapped up in his honey-hued hair tugs on it once, and he just assumes it's because of what he's doing to her. A second later, she's pulling again, but it's harder, as though she's trying to get his attention. When he pulls his mouth away from her and looks up, her other hand reaches down to cradle his face. It guides him up and up and up until they're face to face again, and she kisses him once before speaking into the small space left between them.

"I want you," she whispers with her forehead pressed to his.

Anakin smiles and nudges her nose with his.

"You have me."

When they kiss again, she moans at the taste of herself covering the lips pressed to hers as well as the tongue that gently licks into her mouth. The fingers twirling the loose curls of hair at the back of his neck use their position to keep him trapped in the hot, open-mouthed kiss with her. There are no objections on his end, of course. If it weren't for their duties as Jedi, he would want to take her far away where no one could ever find them and spend the rest of his days this way.

She says the second she gets the chance, "You know what I mean," in regards to what was said before he distracted her.

To this, he sighs, and it isn't a frustrated sound, nor is it a tired one. It's the way a person sighs when they're placed before something in life that they know is bigger than themselves, resigning themselves to their fate not with reluctance but with acceptance.

"Mmm," he hums, then says, "I know. I just have one condition."

She nods.

"Use my name when we're alone," he whispers.

The request sends her mind reeling as he picks her up from the bathroom counter with her legs clinging around his hips and carries her off into his bedroom. Her arms are flung around his neck in a frantic bid to keep herself from falling, yet all he can do is laugh at her sudden panic. As if he would ever let her fall. His lips press a tender kiss to the warm curve of her neck on the short walk into the room, and that small action makes a world of a difference to her. Every insecurity or fear she had after their first time is assuaged by his honesty and the care he shows for her in everything he does tonight.

Although the door is locked and she knows that Obi-Wan and the others are meeting to discuss what occurred on their mission, he still feels the need to close the door to his room before setting her down on her feet before the end of his bed. All that's left to cover her is her utility belt and tunic, which is already torn at the shoulder leading down to her elbow from the fight that later caused the injury to her thigh.

She stands still and allows him to unfasten the belt from around her waist, although, the contact of his hands brushing her body makes it difficult for her to breathe as calmly and deeply as usual. Despite how familiar they already are with one another in terms of physical intimacy, her face flushes with heat at the idea of him seeing her fully undressed.

With her tunic then lifted from her body and tossed aside, she stands in front of him without anything left to shield herself from his intense gaze. His eyes look her up and down, then come back to settle on her face with an appreciation that causes her stomach to flutter with nerves. The air is cold against her nipples, which harden from both the exposure and the undivided attention being given to her.

He reaches across the space between them to brush his fingertips against her skin, but just when he's about to make contact, she stops him. She grabs his wrist and looks up at him through her lashes defiantly, then smirks at him.

"It's my turn."

He does her the courtesy of undoing the greaves guarding his shins and kicking off his shoes, but, after that, she begins with his utility belt.

It comes loose from his lean waist and is tossed aside onto the floor where he discarded hers in a matter of seconds, but, after that, every move she makes is deliberately slower than the last. She can sense how eager he is. The energy coming off of him practically rattles the room with its commanding presence, and it worsens with every second she draws this torment out. With the belt out of the way, it's easy for her to slip the tabard off of his shoulders. All of the layers would typically frustrate her when taking her clothes off to bathe herself, but it's different now. When undressing Anakin, the tedious nature of it makes everything feel more sensual to her.

Finally, once his overtunic and undertunic are pulled from his torso, she is met with the sight of him bare before her. Well, partly. The dying daylight illuminates him for her, allowing her to admire what she was not able to the first time.

The tips of her fingers graze his skin with a feathery-light touch as she drags them down from the base of his neck down to his abdomen. Beneath them, hard, taut muscle pushes back against the gentle pressure they exert. And she finds, as she allows herself to inspect him further as though he's a miraculous species wholly unknown to her, that she quite enjoys the way his stomach flinches inward in anticipation when she reaches the waistband of his loose-fitting pants.

As her right hand works at undoing his pants, the left reaches for the glove covering his cybernetic arm. Finger by finger, she tugs it away until she's able to slip it off of him and let it fall to the floor with the rest of his clothes. When she looks up from where the fake hand rests at his side, she finds him staring at her as though he's trying to analyze every thought that crosses her mind now that he's the one put in a position of vulnerability.

Y/N's hands brace against his shoulders now, and she stares right back at him without fear. The hand that just slipped his glove off of his arm creeps up his neck until it's cupping the side of his head. All the while, he's still watching her. Even as she runs her thumb along the length of the scar that cuts through his eyebrow down to the top of his right cheekbone.

Their lips are a hair's breadth apart now, so close that they can feel the heat of one another's exhales hitting their faces, and when Anakin dips his head down to kiss her again for the first time in what feels like (two minutes) an eternity, she's quick to jerk her head back enough to keep it from happening.

"I'm not done yet," she whispers, their lips brushing with every word. "You had your fun, now let me have mine."

His head shakes. Just once.

Anakin murmurs, "I need you," and there's a small part of him that knows how pathetic he must appear to her right now, clinging onto her by the curve of her waist and desperately trying to connect their mouths in a kiss, but he doesn't care. There's a rosy blush spread across his face extending to his ears, yes, but there's something about her that sets him at ease. He may feel shy about it, but it doesn't stop him from using his grip on her waist to press her body closer to his and say softly, "Please."

Oh, the things that hearing him beg does to her...

At this point, she can't help herself. There's nothing she can do to stop her from pouncing on him as she does the second she hears him utter that word, tossing her arms around his broad shoulders and jumping to wrap her legs around his hip. He intercepts her unexpected actions with a grace very few others could have, but, with their connection, he has a way of anticipating what she says and does before it happens.

He grabs hold of her thighs without thinking of the injury she sustained battling Dooku, then immediately murmurs an apology once he senses her pain and hears her wince into his mouth as he walks her back toward the bed.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he whispers, kissing her once, twice, three times. "Are you okay?"

Where her face is pressed up against his, he feels her nod and takes that as his cue to set her down atop the sheets that he left unmade and twisted upon waking in the early hours of the morning the day they left. The sun, the light that had illuminated his half-naked body to her a moment ago, is beginning to slip partway below the horizon and washes the sky gold in its absence. That fading light shines in through the windows and creates a hazy glow around her, and, for a second, he thinks she might be an angel.

Both of their hands frantically scramble to push his undone pants down, along with his undergarments, as he climbs onto the bed after her. They're kicked from where they fall around his ankles before he settles himself between her eagerly spread thighs. Neither of them can bear to wait any longer, so the second he gets within arm's reach of her, she grabs him by his biceps and tries to pull him up to meet her faster.

The soft palm of her hand grazes down the length of his chest once again, but, this time, there's nothing left to prevent her from touching him. Her forehead is pressed to his, her chin tilted down, and she watches her hand wrap around his thick cock to guide him to her entrance. She pumps her closed fist around him a few times with her thumb brushing over his leaking tip just for the sake of hearing his breath hitch in his throat from it.

There's no need to get it over with quickly seeing that Obi-Wan reporting to the council about their mission will likely take up to an hour, but, the thing is, they both know they don't have the patience to make it last. They're both too rash and antsy when it comes to one another after days of avoidance, and she thinks she may die if she doesn't have him right now. Everything with Anakin feels natural. It feels like this is where she's meant to be and exactly what they're meant to be doing together. She may not have known it until recently but there has always been that thread connecting them. From the beginning, it was there. It was only a matter of time before one of them tugged on it.

She can hardly string together a sentence once she feels the broad tip of him pushing into her, "Oh"—her nails dig into his arms hard enough to break the skin and continue to apply more pressure as he sinks into her—"Anakin..."

Her bottom lip is bitten between her teeth at the feeling of him buried inside of her, so deep that she can feel the bony prominence of his hip bones pressing into the soft flesh of her thighs. And she knows it's affecting him just as much from how his metal hand squeezed her hip hard enough to leave finger-shaped indents behind on her skin. Although she's ready for him to move, she can tell that he's waiting for himself to be ready. His eyes are fluttered shut, forehead pressed to hers, and she can tell he's trying not to let himself be overcome by how good it feels.

What he said to her days ago at the bar wasn't a lie, he has done this multiple times before, but it's never too often. It was only a means to an end, a way to satisfy the urge he felt guilt and shame for having in the first place. This is different than those other times for him. Seeing that it's her he's doing this with, he can hardly control himself and refrain from spending in her in the span of a moment much like he did the first time he had sex.

After a moment has passed and his breathing has turned deep and even, she whispers, nudging his nose with hers, "Look at me."

The second she says it, he obeys, and she didn't expect to find him being to her will to be so...alluring. As her master, he's the one who typically commands. She is the one who listens, who serves, who obeys, but, right now, everything is backward. Anakin looks down at her for guidance with the same hunger and desire as before but softened around the edges.

His hair is soft to the touch when her fingers play with it, and she uses her grip on his scalp to pull his lips down to hers.

"Fuck me," she murmurs into his mouth as they engage in a lazy kiss. Her hips press up into his in a silent urging for him to move that he listens to immediately with a tentative thrust.

His arms cage her in on either side of her head as he licks into her mouth with his tongue and starts to fuck into her at a relaxed pace. Still, even with how slow and tender it may be, she feels him so deep inside of her, she wonders if she could feel him there if she pressed her palm flat against the bottom of her stomach. The languid undulations of his hips guiding his cock in and out of her builds on the pleasure he had given her earlier.

Last time, it had been painful when he first entered her, but, this time, there was only a slight sense of pressure, if being overwhelmed, that gave way to the pleasant feeling she found toward the end of their first intimate encounter. Even when she found it somewhat uncomfortable at the beginning, she still wanted it for the sake of being close to him. Of being the one to make him feel good. And now that it feels good almost straight away, she is overwhelmed with how badly she wants him. Nothing is ever going to be enough for her, is it? Even as they're kissing and fucking and grabbing at one another in a frenzy of need, she still wants more of him.

One of her hands slides down the length of his body and grabs his hip to guide him into a faster pace with every thrust.

"Just like that," she says between panting breaths.

The words of praise cause his face to flush for what feels like the tenth time since they retreated to the privacy of his rooms, and it doesn't go unnoticed by her. Despite the fact that he holds power over her as her master, she senses his desire for her to take control and take care of him. To treat him with the reverence and praise he is so scarcely granted anywhere else in his life. So, she takes control. He may have the physical advantage with his considerable strength and position on top of her, but only a fool would think he's the one in power here. The second she told him to look at her, he willingly gave it up.

Her other hand, the one that isn't holding onto his hip, comes up to card through the long tufts of hair on the back of his head. She pulls it taut from his scalp to maneuver his face away, creating a short distance that allows them to stare into each other's eyes as they're both overcome with the sensation of it all. His brows pinch together a little at the feeling of her tight walls squeezing down around him on the upstroke of his thrusts as though she's trying to push him closer to the precipice he refuses to fall from without bringing her along with him. It doesn't feel like he's the experienced one here even though he's been doing this much longer than her. It almost makes him scoff. He should've known that she'd take to this quickly just as she does with everything else. His smart girl.

"Fuck," Anakin curses under his breath and truly starts to throw himself into it now. "You feel"—his sentence starts and stops before he can string it together, so he abandons it altogether in favor of spewing the first, most vulnerable thought that springs to mind—"Promise you'll never leave me."

If she's being honest, the unrestrained honesty in his request addles her brain far more than the sex itself. However, it doesn't scare her away as he fears it will. Maybe it's a little sick, but she likes how desperate he is for her. How could she not enjoy the simple truth that she is the only one who can bring the great Anakin Skywalker to his knees? It's a beautiful thing to see him in such a state of mindless bliss.

Her arms twine around his waist in a tight embrace to bring their bodies closer than they already are somehow, and when she opens her mouth to speak, she's interrupted by a moan that leaves her suddenly at the feeling of him hitting a sweet spot inside of her. When she pulled him down onto her until their bodies were flush, it adjusts the angle of his thrust and puts delightful pressure on her clit with his pubic bone. After taking a second to relish in the sensation, she looks up at him through heavy-lidded eyes and lifts her head up from the mattress to kiss him.

She murmurs into his open mouth, "I won't." The next thrust he makes into her is significantly harder than the rest have been in reaction. "I'll never leave you, Ani. I promise."

The sound he makes in response almost pushes her over the edge. It's somewhere caught between a moan and a whine, a thrilling noise that makes her tense around him once more and writhe beneath the weight of his body pinning her to the bed. A familiar tension stirs in the pit of her abdomen now. It crescendos into territory where the stimulation almost becomes unbearable, begging to explode as it did the last time in an earth-shattering climax that left her limp and incoherent in his arms.

Since he can sense how close she's getting, he doesn't change anything. He pulls back as much as he can without shifting the position and watches her in utter fascination. It's the little things that get him—how her nose scrunches a little when it starts to get to be too much, the way she looks up at him like she's in a daze, and how his name sounds coming from her pretty, kiss-swollen lips. They shine in the dim light from a mixture of their saliva, and he can't resist the urge to lean down to connect them with his again.

And this makes her smile. Everything about it makes her radiate joy, an emotion he can feel her projecting onto him without trying to shield it. Like him, she adores the little things—how his hair tickles her forehead the whole time, the sound of his moans, and how he never eases his grip on her as though he's afraid she'll disappear in the event that he lets go. On top of that, she likes how warm he is. She's come to realize over the past week that Anakin is the human embodiment of a furnace. Every time he pulls her near, she takes comfort in the heat that comes from his body, and, as of the current moment, she loves it.

His skin is hot to the touch where it meets hers, covered in a thin sheen of perspiration that greets her tongue with a salty taste when she dips her face into his neck to kiss him there. Her teeth nip at his skin and leave a faint mark behind that they both know will be hidden by his clothes later. With her nearing climax, she can't do much other than claw at his upper back and try to stifle the sounds she's making in case anyone is nearby.

Her lips stop moving against his neck, not because she'd ever want to stop kissing him, but because she can't function beyond the mindless bucking of their hips and the slack-jawed sounds she lets out. Her head thumps back onto the bed without a sound, back arching up against him, and her legs constrict around his hips to prevent him from going anywhere but closer.

As for Anakin, nothing could rile him up the way she does. Every stroke inside of her collapses any shred of sense and logic left in him, leaving behind just the primal urges that currently guide him.

Knowing how close she is, Y/N asks with her face pressed to his, leaning into the role he inadvertently pushed her into, "Are gonna be good for me?"

Even through the hazy state of mind he's in, he finds a way to nod when she asks him this. He's so far gone that he isn't sure he can form the words to verbally respond to her. All he knows is that she's here. She's here, and she's caring for him, and she promised she'd never leave. That's the sole thing occupying his mind as she offers him a sweet smile and plays with his hair the way she knows he likes.

"That's right," she says softly, then pauses for a second to stifle a moan. His frantic pursuit of their respective orgasms leaves them both trembling in each other's arms while she tries to maintain enough composure to speak to him through it. Every time he slams his hips down into hers, sheathing his cock in her sodden cunt and hitting that sweet spot without fail, she can almost feel the relief that's soon to find her. "I don't know what you would've done if you weren't my master"—his cybernetic hand grips her throat with enough pressure to use it as leverage but not to prevent her from speaking—"How long have you been waiting for me, Ani?"

Despite his previous assumption that he no longer had the ability to speak, he responds instantly between his panting breaths, "My whole life—"

His words are cut off by the downright pornographic display that is her orgasm. It comes on suddenly, without a warning for him to prepare himself, and he groans at how tight she becomes through the intense peaks that reduce her to a tensing, shaking mess beneath him. It is somehow twice as intense as the one given to her in that seedy bar he escorted her to last week. It wouldn't surprise her if she makes him bleed with how harshly her nails dig into his flesh, but that's far beneath her at this point. The pleasure wipes her mind clean of everything but him. In her head, she hears it like a prayer over and over and over again—Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

Her master—who is now pounding into her and keeping her pinned to his mattress with his body weight throughout her climax. He fucks her through every second of it, prolonging the all-consuming pleasure far longer than it ever lasts when she touches herself.

Then, something new happens.

Just at the end of her climax as she begins to feel it recede as it always does, she thinks she feels another coming on. This has never happened to her before in her limited experience. Most of the time, touching herself is a quick affair before she fell asleep that felt good, but it wasn't anything like this. She can sense that it surprises him too when he feels her tight walls spasming around his cock for the second time in a row, and this is all it takes to push him over the edge.

Anakin clings to her as though she is the only thing tethering him to this planet, stilling inside of her with a low moan as she watches him come apart for her. She already thought he was beautiful before, but, fuck, he's utterly divine like this. He has always been above the others in her eyes, not only as a Jedi but as a person—a deity for her to worship and learn from as his Padawan. But, now that worship is intensified by what she sees, hears, and feels when he comes. The hand around her neck squeezes hard enough to keep her from taking in air.

Her head is tilted back against the mattress, her jaw slack, and her back arches up, pressing her bare breasts against the toned musculature of his chest that clenches throughout his orgasm. She can feel him throbbing inside her with every spurt of his release that floods and spills out of her at the base of his cock.

Even after half a moment passes, they both remain like this without moving despite how the sensitivity causes them to tremble. Her chest falls when his rises in a push and pull much like that of the tides as they pant for air. He keeps his face buried in her neck the entire time and doesn't retreat from the hiding spot until he feels her hand tracing up and down the length of his spine absentmindedly. It wakes him from the post-orgasmic haze and forces him to remember that, although they have some time to themselves, they have to meet with Obi-Wan shortly after he's finished reporting to the council.

Still, he doesn't pull out of her yet.

He asks instead, not wanting it to end, "Can we stay like this for a minute?" and sighs in relief when she mutters back a quick word of approval.

She keeps her arms wrapped around his chest to trap him in her embrace and continues to rub up and down his sweat-slick back in a soothing pattern. It almost causes his eyes to close and submit to the alluring gravitational pull of sleep that longs to drag him under. With the clarity of her thoughts returning, she can't ignore the worries that come to mind in regard to how they'll manage to hide this from the others.

Without her even having to voice these worries aloud, Anakin pulls his face from her neck and brushes her hair from her face with his flesh hand, looking down upon her with a tender gaze.

"It'll be okay," he says softly, and, for a second, she thinks she believes him. She thinks she'd believe anything he says for the next few moments. "They'll never know. Even if they end up suspecting it, there won't be a way to prove it."

She asks, face twisted with concern, "Are you sure?" and, suddenly, they're pushed back into their natural roles with her looking to him, someone she considers far wiser, for guidance and reassurance.

Though there's a slight smile, though the adoration for her remains present in his expression, there's a flicker of darkness in his gaze, and his arms tighten around her waist seemingly in response to it. As he had when they were writhing together in pleasure not long ago, he holds onto her as though someone or something will come along to take her from his possession the second he eases his hold on her. Those pretty blue eyes never once stray from hers.

Anakin keeps the side of her head cupped in one of his hands and says, "Nothing will ever take you from me."

[twinkling-moonlillie]

Lucifer Morningstar Relationship Headcanons!

A/N: I haven't written for Lucifer before, but this man has my heart and soul so I am going to start! Also, feel free to DM or chat! I love talking and meeting new people, and I need more people to simp with over Lucifer.

Warnings: Minors do not interact, these headcanons include both SFW and NSFW

✶ Lucifer is deeply sentimental, never one to shy away from his feelings. When he is in love, it is all consuming and a driving force for him. He would do anything for those he loves.

✶ He is a gentle lover, a tender lover; a foil to Adam, if you will. When he is in love, he takes it slow, gently drowning you in his affections.

✶ A gift giver? Absolutely! Whether it be handcrafted pieces of art that he made himself or buying you stuff that reminded him of you, he revels in the idea of lavishing you with gifts.

✶ If we are to assume that you are with him after Lilith, expect some slow burn. Not only does Lucifer have to live with the consequences of his decision to bestow free will upon humanity, but the woman he (presumably) loved left him. The guilt he fee is massive, so please just be patient with him. Let him open up to you. Don't make him feel like a burden.

✶ Once he does start to fall in love with you, the first thing he will do is take off his wedding ring. He is a little hesitant, but the way you make him feel...it's refreshing and invigorating.

✶ After years of being too afraid to dream, you rekindled his passion. How could he not fall in love with that?

✶ He loves kissing you - forehead kisses, hand kisses, cheek kisses - he will kiss you until his lips turn violet and melt off.

✶ Although he doesn't acknowledge it often, he has a tendency to be a bit possessive. Not that he is controlling, but more so that he wants to show you off. He wants everyone in hell to know that he pulled the most beautiful and kind person to ever grace the universe.

✶ Some days when he has to go to meetings early in the morning (he is the King after all), he will always make sure to wake you up softly so you know when he is leaving...only to kiss you back to sleep.

✶ Going along with his love of craftsmanship, you become his muse. There will be several different versions of you as a duck, an apple, whatever comes to his mind really.

✶ Lucifer as a whole is a bit eccentric and peculiar, but charming nonetheless. There is a reason why he was able to seduce Lilith and Eve.

✶ If you two pursue a relationship further, you must be able to get along with Charlie. Charlie is Lucifer's pride and joy, and if you can't get along...well Lucifer would choose his baby over you.

✶ But that's alright because Charlie is very easy to get along with!

✶ He frequently uses pet names such as sweetie and sweetheart, as well as angel and apple pie.

✶ He always calls you the apple of his eye.

✶ NOW TO GET ON TO THE SPICY STUFF >:)

✶ Take one look at that man and tell me he ISN'T a service top. You can't! It's impossible (/j).

✶ Lucifer is desperate to prove himself, to prove his worth, even if he knows you love him. That's why he loves servicing you; he will spend hours pulling you further and further into pleasure.

✶ We all have seen episode eight, we know that he will spend hours between your thighs until you are an overstimulated mess. He gets off on the idea of you relying on the pleasure he gives you and no one else.

✶ It's a pride thing.

✶ His favorite position to have you in is missionary. He just loves to hold you close as he slowly enters you, being able to see how you writhe and become a moaning mess for him.

✶ He also loves to hold you close from behind and pound you (spoon fucking). That's mostly reserved for morning sex though.

✶ Again, he is a deeply sentimental and loving man so he prefers to make love to you than fuck you. But he definitely could fuck you if he wanted to.

✶ His wings have a tendency to poof out right as he is on the verge of coming. Sometimes he wraps them around you, sheltering you in a heavenly cloud.

✶ He has a daddy kink and a breeding kink. No, I will not take any arguments against this.

✶ He just desperately wants to claim you fully, and what better way to do that if not through breeding your pretty pussy.

✶ But really, this man is desperately in love with you. Please let him love you <3

[mammonsrockstargf]

PAPERWORK

contents: lucifer x gn!reader, oral (m!recieving), praise, pet names (love, little lamb), you call lucifer "sir" twice, edited repost wordcount: 1k alba's note: went to proofread this and accidentally added 400 words, pffff.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOCKS DO NOT INTERACT

Lucifer will occasionally let you suck him off while he “does his paperwork”.

You’ll knock on the door to the secret study and lean against the doorframe as you pout, asking him to come to bed. He sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, love, I have too much paperwork.”

He sighs for the second time, and you walk over to him, getting on your knees in front of where he’s sitting in the chair, putting your hands on his thighs. You run them up and down, sending him an innocent smile as you palm his crotch, feeling his dick twitch to life.

“Let me make you feel good then, sir,” you purr.

You both know you're playing cat and mouse. It's merely foreplay, an act. Lucifer will pretend that he's holding back. That he really has to do this paperwork, that he's still the dutiful Avatar of Pride, who upholds his reputation more than anything. He'll pretend that you're the sinful one for trying to get him to put down his work.

And you'll let him. Play into his fantasy of the coaxing siren, the cunning fox. Telling him to get in the water with you. To indulge in another sin than pride, just this once.

You rest your cheek on his thigh, looking up at him through your lashes, and he sighs for a third time, his cock now uncomfortably straining in his pants. He lets you unzip them slowly, pulling out his length. Lucifer’s big, and you think he's so pretty, with a flushed pink tip that’s already leaking precum and a noticeable vein that runs along the side. A vein that you're already well acquainted with, having had it drag along your walls countless times.

Even if Lucifer pretends to still look at his paperwork, his body betrays him easily. Pretty cock twitching in your hand, drooling and flushing for your attention. You hum in satisfaction, already feeling a throb in your core.

You shuffle closer, resting on your knees between his thighs, and wait for permission, looking up at him with your pretty doe eyes, but Lucifer was already putty in your hands the second you walked in wearing those dangerously short sleeping shorts. He runs his hand through your hair and pulls you closer to the tip of his cock.

“Come on then, little lamb, show me how eager you are.”

You don’t waste a second, opening your mouth and swirling your tongue around his tip. He groans, and the grip on your hair tightens as he takes full control of your movements and guides you down his length, till his pubes are tickling your nose.

You breathe in his musky scent through your nostrils and relax your throat as best you can, tears welling in your eyes while you maintain eye contact.

“Little lamb, taking it so well,” he praises, and you begin bopping your head up and down his length, slightly choking whenever he hits the back of your throat.

He leans his head back and watches you through lidded eyes, revelling in how tight and wet your perfect little mouth is, how fucking lewd you look as your lips stretch around his girth. Only you can make him feel like this, make him let go like this, even if it's still within the comfort of his office, hidden from the outside world.

Tears are running down your cheeks now as you bop your head more diligently, and you can feel your drool running down your chin. His nails scratch your scalp, and you whimper around his length, causing a shudder to run through him. You're still looking up at him with pleading eyes. Begging him to praise you, to let you know how good he feels. You can't deny that you live for Lucifer's praise, for the rare moments when he lets down his guard and tells you those pretty words that you long to hear.

“Haah, gonna cum inside this tight little mouth,” he groans, and you moan again, looking up at him with begging eyes. The corners of his lips turn upward, and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, while he lets out laboured breaths.

“Oh, would you like that, love? Want me to come down your throat?” He asks, and you hum around his cock, sucking him off as best you can, running your tongue along his sensitive vein. Your fingers dig into his thighs, your nails scraping along his pants, and Lucifer feels the tight coil snap in his abdomen as he comes, keeping your head still on his cock, hitting the back of your throat and shooting satiny ropes of hot liquid into your mouth.

He resists the urge to close his eyes in pleasure, instead opting to watch you choke around his girth and struggle to swallow. He can't deny how beautiful you look in this moment, your eyes glazed over and your cheeks flushed and stained with tears.

He holds you there for a while, with your nose pressed against his pelvis, as you swallow everything as best you can. When he finally pulls you off, spit and cum are glistening on your lips and chin, and he chuckles lightly, wiping it with his thumb while you catch your breath. You send him a proud smile before showing him your tongue, proving that you swallowed most of it.

"Look at you, my love, swallowing me so well," he grins, satisfaction pooling in his gut. You smile at the praise, stroking his thighs, still high on the feeling of having the Avatar of Pride right in your palm.

"Thank you, sir," you politely reply, voice coming out hoarse, making Lucifer's dick twitch again. Your smile only widens at this, the throbbing in your core intensifying at the knowledge of what's to come.

Lucifer sucks his thumb clean, and you whine slightly at the sight before coming up and pressing your lips to his. You kiss him eagerly, and he groans at the taste of his cum on your lips.

When you pull away, you’re still giving him that pleading look.

“Come to bed, please, Luci, I need you,” you ask.

And who is Lucifer to reject his needy little human?

thank you for reading!

@eaatmyheaart to satisfy your lucifer cravings <3

check out my kinktober | masterlist | divider by cafekitsune

[nicarnelian]

furever with kaji!

₊˚⊹ featuring: kaji ren x gn! reader

₊˚⊹ summary: when you bring a cat to kaji’s apartment and ask his help in making a decent home for the feline, every request must come with an equivalent reward. for kaji, he thinks kisses are sufficient compensations to your requisition.

₊˚⊹ word count: 1.5k

₊˚⊹ warnings: tooth-rotting cringe fluff, grammar errors!

₊˚⊹ author’s note: binged frieren yesterday, and himmel and frieren occupied my mind, lived on it, rent free 24/7 for the past days! i’m also rewatching 86, bc shinlena are my ogs! anw, enjoy this kaji fic w cats bc i love cats (this is a shameless self-insert fic, if i think abt it) ;)))

kaji ren finds cats tolerable. well, actually, he considers them insignificant to his daily life, so he does not particularly hate them. the only moments where he would come into interaction with those little felines are when the townspeople would either ask him a favor, such as by catching them or feeding them, or when those cats would rub themselves on his feet and legs.

he doesn’t find them annoying though; he actually consider cats something that helps him calm down, shifting his attention to the little furry animals begging for rubs and pats, rather than the rowdy environment that encircled him. but, there were also times when the cats bite him out of affection, and kaji, knowing the person that he is, screams at the animal. afterwards, kaji would flinch as he watches the cat run away from him, feeling guilty as he looks down at the small strands of fur left on his pants.

after a couple of cat interactions, it would take probably another month or two when he would interact or touch a cat properly. all of these cat memories of kaji were brought up by the current situation between the two of you.

the second you knock on his apartment’s wood door, kaji unlocks it, knowing that you would be visiting him. he missed you, even though you do see each other after classes and during weekends. kaji has gotten clingy with you — the type of clingy that continues to seek the presence of the other, the type that opt to hear your voice rather than casual texts on the flat surface of his phone. but now, he kinda regrets opening the door for you. his gaze travels all around your figure, until it stops at a pint-sized, black and white animal that you hug near your chest.

he looks directly at your eyes, “why the hell is that in your arms?”

the both of you stand motionless, as no one dared to break eye contact. you wear a dumb smile on your lips as you giggle at your boyfriend’s statement. you lightly pet the small animal that leans into your touch. “it’s a kitten!”

“i know it’s a damned cat, but why the hell are you here, bringing a kitten in my apartment?!” kaji could not control the volume of his voice properly, causing him to step back as he realizes what he had done to you. you see the guilt in his eyes spreading, as if afraid of the possibility that he might have hurt you from his words. you quickly give a light smile to reassure him, letting him know it’s alright and he didn’t hurt you in any way with his words.

“well, i didn’t know where to bring it! the landlady at my place doesn’t like pets, so here i am!” you continue giving him that beaming grin of yours. kaji finds you insufferable — the way these walls he had built since he was a child quickly dwindle into nothingness when you forced yourself into his life, with that stupid, witless, yet stunningly delicate smile.

kaji notices how your face contorts to ever single emotion possible — from how your eyebrows furrow in seriousness to annoyance whenever you do your assignments , and how they quickly crumple to relief whenever he says the simplest of motivational quotes that he most probably looked up online since he was new to interacting like this.

in months of dating you, he wanted to know everything about you albeit being impossible — but, he was the type to make any possibility a reality. months into your relationship, he has put into immense effort into knowing you, and you reciprocated such actions from your boyfriend. and, it’s safe to say that both of you are still staying strong after almost a year of being with him.

you welcome yourself into his room, which kaji did not mind since he will always think that whatever that is his is also yours. you settle the cat on his chair, much to his dismay though. “hey! it’ll leave random fur!”

you pout at him, “i just need a box and some discarded fabric to make him a home for the meantime. you have some?” kaji knows how much you love cats, which is why he completely abides by your requests. but, of course, every request comes with a equal reward.

“i have some boxes and i plan to throw away some of my clothes…” he mumbles. you extend your hands at him, like a child asking for candy. kaji smirks.

he walks towards your direction, closing the distance as he draws his face near yours. you flinch at his actions due to how sudden and unpredictable kaji has become. you place your hands on his chest involuntarily, as your eyes lock on his pair of gray eyes as well. “w-what is it…?”

kaji doesn’t crack a smile, but instead, pouts. his index finger points towards the skin of his right cheek. you watch him tilt his head, as if showing the skin to you, and the words he uttered were something you had not even expect to hear in a thousand years. “k-kiss.”

you blink at him, as you could see the tips of his ears reddening from what he asked. he just asked… for a kiss? kaji ren? the boy who had always told you that you were insufferable was asking for a kiss?

“w-what?”

kaji’s face fumes into a shade of red, “n-nothing! never mind what i said, c’mere! as f-far as i remember, some of the b-boxes were underneath my bed! i’ll search for—“ kaji blabbers and stammers all over his words. am i going crazy? he, himself, could not believe he had just asked that from you.

kaji gasps when you clasp his entire face with your hands and peck the location of his cheeks that he was pointing earlier. he grabs your wrists as you continue littering his face with soft kisses. kaji feels like his world is spinning, his mind cloudy, his heart thumping so fast and his face burning red already.

you give him a final peck on his lips and smirk, “awww… are you perhaps kiss-deprived, ren? but don’t worry, i’ll kiss you anytime you want!” you beam at him, after seeing his flushed face. kaji doesn’t respond, which makes you somewhat worried.

“ren?”

his eyes stare at his room’s wooden floor, shoulders moving up and down. his bangs cover his eyes, leading you to simply call out his name multiple times until he slowly brings his gaze upwards to yours. you nervously chuckle at him, trying to break the silence between you both as he bores his eyes into you. “ren…?” you smile cautiously.

“you’re insufferable.” and, he closes the distance between your faces, kissing you harshly. it’s certainly not comparable to this kisses you’ve given him earlier, soft and teasing — his kiss is hungry, as if he’s deprived of water and your mouth is the sole salvation. it’s filthy and rough, but you fondle his lips with equal greediness.

you place your hands on both of his shoulders, balancing yourself at the height of the moment between you and kaji. you feel his tongue grazing your lips. he wraps his arms around your waist, one hand casually roaming your body until his fingers tangle with your hair and push you closer to him. it feels like forever — kissing him in a room that just encapsulates who he is: his scent, his mark, his hands that hold you tightly but not too tight, his eyes that only look at you. the entirety of kaji ren being yours and you being his feels like forever to you.

“meow!”

the both of you stop, heads snapping at the cat already purring at your entangled limbs. it’s almost involuntary how both you and kaji stare at each other and laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck. you feel his forehead press against yours as he whispers, “‘m sorry.”

“for what?” you lean your forehead against his. “nothing, just felt like it. since, you know, accidentally raised my voice on you earlier.” kaji smiles as his head finally drops to the intersection of your neck and shoulders, planting soft kisses on the bare skin.

you ruffle his head, “‘s fine. i know you didn’t mean it.” he hums in response to you.

“but for now, you have to help me make this cat’s home! i’ve given you lotsa kisses earlier, so i expect more help from you!” you poke his cheek, trying to force him to look at you. you wriggle away from his embrace, and kaji finally whispers in response to your statement.

“‘m willing to do anything for your kisses. i’m glad to do more even.” kaji smirks at you, causing you to smack his shoulder and ultimately breaking the hug. you’re glad that he’s finally trying to open up more, to talk more. you watch as he kneel towards the cat and let the cat sniff his fingers — a small introduction between kaji and the cat.

you want to savor the moment, and sure you do, because being with kaji ren feels like forever.