#If you get a good rhythm it's over for them and you can mix and match their final phase at will XD

[phoenixcatch7]

Hilarious end to the final king gleeok!

I may have forgotten the kg over the far west of hebra existed. I did not know the game registered this as a kill (though I'm not sure it actually does? The music kept playing like nothing happened lmao). Either way, third last sage orb acquired!

[kxsalt]

cw non-consent

Two is company, three is a crowd. The old saying is tossed around as a joke. She sits on the bed in the hotel room while the three men take off their clothes. The girl is almost entirely confident. Her experience having sex with two men at the same time will surely carry her through. A flicker of nervousness is visible on her face as they lead her off the bed and onto her knees.

Sucking cock, she strokes the other two. With only moments to catch her breath, her mouth is passed around the trio. The coordination required to give two handjobs while deepthroating is slightly beyond her ability. The men get more impatient and unsatisfied by her awkward rhythm.

“Come on, you can do better than that. You said you were good at this.” The man lambasts her. She gurgles in response. “One more minute, then we can switch.” Groans another as he facefucks her. “Let’s get into the fun stuff.” Remarks the third, also unsatisfied by her hand. He grabs her hips, lifting her upright and drives his cock into her pussy.

Spitroasted on the men, the girl feels a moment of comfort. Having one man using her cunt while she sucks off the other is a familiar place for her. The third man complicates things. She tries her best to swap between the two regularly, but their impatience grows. One sits on the bed. “Let me fuck her. Come bounce on my dick, slut.”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” Her disrespectful tone slips through her unused mouth. The energy changes. The girl swallows as she reads the frustrated expressions of the three men. “Try harder.” Says the man on the bed as he grabs her hips and pulls her on top of him. She takes him in her pussy while another stands on the matress.

She tastes her pussy on his cock as she rides the other man. Another familiar place. The girl forgets to take care of the third man. A firm grip on her bum reminds her of his presence. Reaching behind, she tries to grab onto his cock. It’s too late.

Pulling her head away from the blowjob, she feels the head of his cock press against her ass. “Hey! I don’t do anal! I told you that before! Stop!” The girl protests. “You do now.” He would barely fit inside her without her pussy stretched by the other man. He groans and thrusts himself inside her third hole.

Her safeword is ignored. It’s nothing but theatre when three men want to take a lone woman. The impotent begging is muffled when a cock is shoved down her throat. Finally, the group is satisfied. Tears pour from her eyes as her arms are held behind her back. Fighting with all her strength wouldn’t be enough to stop even one of them.

Another desparate attempt to escape. The men pin her to the bed and switch between her holes. She begs for them to stop. They don’t. Instead they fuck her harder. The first man to finish unloads his cum all over her sobbing face. The second man finishes in her ass. As he pulls his cock from her, the third man takes his place. Their cum mixes in her used asshole.

The first is ready again. His comrades hold her down so he can properly enjoy her. The girl’s pleading has faded into the occasional mumbled word or outburst of crying. As they fuck her, one or two keeps a firm grip on her to prevent any physical resistance. Sometimes, two regain their stamina at the same time, and they both penetrate her at the same time.

The hours pass. Gone far beyond her limits, the girl lies limp in the middle of the hotel bed. The last man finishes in her ruined body. His cum dribbles from her as he gets dressed. She curls up in a ball and tries to wipe off the stains as the hotel room door closes.

[chlorinecake]

✰ don’t give me that look | l.at oneshot

pairing: switch! producer boyfriend! anton x sub! f. reader

🇨​​💿 ​​🇳​​🇹​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​​🇸 ꗃ SIZE KINK, kissing, lap sitting, tit & clit play, anton records a sex-tape in the studio, unprotected sex (back shots), roughly 1.8k words … !?

a/n: for @antonitty and her delusions - hope u like it bae !!

You sat idly on the studio couch, admiring your boyfriend from afar as he silently toggled with the sound desk, mixing a few rhythms.

Crossing your legs, you eyed him up and down, taking in the view of his focused frame.

“You’re pretty good at flicking and twisting those knobs, y’know?… I wonder how nice it’d be if you used that same energy to please me…”

He let out a soft breath, eyes still trained on the soundboard as he spoke, “Babe, you know I’d rather spend time with you… I just have to produce this track sample before tomorrow…”

“And then?…”

“I’m all yours,” he finished, flashing you a promising look through his shaggy bangs.

“Fineeee,” you agreed in a sarcastic tone, slightly rolling your eyes at him, “but can you let me try something on the record first?… it might help…”

Anton quirked a brow, turning to meet your face with his own intrigued one, “You mean like… singing?”

You simply nodded in response, just before promptly getting up from the couch to sit on his lap at the music desk.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that you were this close to him, so he simply rested them at each arm of the spinning chair.

“You might even learn a thing or two from me if you pay attention,” you went on, knowing that he’d smile at your playful words.

“Go ahead then, superstar… blow me away,” he whispered tauntingly, keeping his thighs firm as you adjusted yourself on top of him.

With his headphones secured around his head, Anton prepared himself to hear whatever it was that you wanted to add to the track project.

Pressing the red “record” button, you let the instrumental play for a few moments as you got a feel of the beat, this one sounding more R&B compared to his usually chill rhythms.

You started by toggling in a few bass notes on the drum-pad, watching Anton’s reflection in the soundproof screen ahead for any sign of reaction.

So far, he only bobbed his head slowly, still anticipating your next move.

That’s when you picked up the mic, bringing it to your lips and letting out the most pornographic moan you could muster.

Anton’s hands flew from the chair arms to take off his headphones, reaching forward to pause the track recording as you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.

“Babe, what the hell?” He blushed, covering his face with one hand as butterflies rushed through his stomach, the sound of your moan replaying in his mind over and over, “this is serious, y’know?”

You turned around in his lap, taking in your boyfriend’s shy demeanor as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your chest.

“What? Was it bad? I can do better if you want me to…,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes at him as he put his hands behind his head, slightly smirking at you despite the evidently nervous red flush of his cheeks, “you can even help me...”

“Don’t give me that look, ____,” he sighed, voice sounding a bit more raspy while still maintaining its usual softness.

Was it nerves?

Was he horny?…

Either way, it didn’t matter to you because he sounded so fucking hot right now—

“What look?” you pressed with a feigned expression of innocence before very intentionally wiggling in his lap a bit.

“Like you wanna be fucked,” Anton said with a wince at your actions, letting his eyelids fall slightly while looking down at you with a clenched jaw.

You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth so smoothly, his confidence alone causing you to squeeze your thighs together, already feeling so eager for him…

You couldn’t handle it when he behaved so switchy with you… starting off all shy before gradually becoming more and more bold.

His eyes eventually wandered back to the soundboard, so you took it as an opportunity to change the subject.

“You never told me if it was bad or not,” you started in the silence, mind just now becoming aware of Anton slowly getting harder beneath you.

“Well,” he hummed, letting his hands leave his head and slip down to your hips, “it was a solid 50-50, if I’m being honest…”

You scoffed dramatically, an offended hand flying to your chest, “How so?”

“Because… I always love the sounds you make for me, but not when you force them…”

His grip on your hips was firm now, holding you in place before just barely rocking you against his lap in skilled motions.

Despite the simplicity of his actions, your body started to feel dizzy with desire, mind fogging up as his clothed tip continued grinding beneath your core.

“Anton—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, the feeling of his breath below your ear making you internally shiver, a feathery yet steady groan escaping his lips.

“Can I try something now?” he asked breathlessly, even though the question sounded more like a declaration than a proposal of permission.

“Mhmm,” you nodded submissively, eyes feeling heavy as the warmth amongst your bodies only grew, thanks to how stuffy the studio was.

Clicking the sound desk back on “record,” Anton slipped his headphones over your head, feeling himself get even hotter at how cute you looked in this moment, his chunky earmuffs barely fitting around your much smaller head.

By now though, Anton had easy access to your lower half, given the high-pleated-skirt you decided to wear that day.

You almost felt like half of your body escaped to another planet when Anton’s touch started to wander lower, his hands practically covering the entire expanse of your exposed thighs given how big they were.

His breath remained steady in this moment, despite how his heart kept stuttering like a broken record.

Or perhaps, a sexually excited one…

The subtle movements of your legs helped Anton to shimmy your panties down past your hips, all the way down to your ankles, and eventually the floor.

You sat with your soaking wet core atop your boyfriend’s lap now, two of his fingers soon finding your clit in slow, circular motions.

The thing was, Anton had finally let his intrusive thoughts win, having wanted to get a genuine recording of your moans for a while.

The idea always meddled in the back of his mind whenever you pranced into the studio while he was working on beats…

However, the only issue now was that you were feeling a bit shy with the recorder on again…

“C’mon baby, lemme hear you,” the boy nearly begged, words sounding a bit mumbled with the way he was kissing along your neck.

“I know you want to,” he taunted, free hand sliding up to grope your left tit while his other hand continued toying with your pussy, “no wonder you wore this slutty skirt for me today…”

His voice… it practically intoxicated you… the way it sounded so pure yet so condescending at the same time…

“F-fuck,” you stammered with a moan, furrowing your brows as his fingers applied pressure to your clit, the other hand slightly pinching your nipple as he knew just how to get you to those pretty sounds that he wanted out of you.

“Good girl~,” he whispered in a cooing manner, “but I know you can do better than that…”

He guided you to stand up on your wobbly legs, his fingers meddling with your slick as he towered behind you.

And although your ears were still muffed with his headset, you could clearly make out the sound of his belt unbuckling with tingly clinks, your pussy only pulsing with need.

Before you could even beg to be fucked, you felt one of Anton’s hands hike up your skirt, the other forcing your back to arch over the sound board as his hard length pressed between your folds.

He was way too fucking big, but part of you liked the idea of him potentially breaking you.

It wasn’t easy, but your boyfriend eventually slipped himself inside, letting his tip tease along the ridges of your heat before picking up the pace, the soft pants and occasional groans from his body sounding loud and clear thanks to the headphones you wore.

There was also something about hearing your own moans so audibly on top of his… hearing how he turned you into a whiny mess so easily…

Anton’s hazy eyes met your fucked out reflection in the glass screen ahead, your own vision wandering off to the sound wave reader on his music board.

The way it’s lines heightened with each desperate moan that left your sweaty bodies did nothing but crazy things to the knot tightening in your stomach.

“Touch me, Anton,” you practically whimpered, voice coming out in small hiccups given how hard he was pounding into you.

His hands were already so tight around your waist, but your whiny request let him know exactly where you wanted him… where you needed that extra intensity.

He went to grope your tits, lifting your body away from the sound board with ease as the sight of his flexed biceps nearly made you drool.

The pace of his hips remained fast and controlled as he continued fucking into you, the tip of his cock reaching so deep that you’re sure you felt it in your belly button.

Looking down, Anton saw that the recording had reached just over 3 minutes, despite how your pussy desperately clenched around him, a clear sign that you were close to finishing.

His mouth was full of saliva, not even remembering to swallow given how pleasure drunk he was right now.

And somehow, you caught onto this, turning your neck at an angle and guiding his plush lips to kiss you, only a few seconds passing before he inserting his tongue, grunting into your mouth.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he said in between kissing you sloppily, right before taking his headphones off your head and tossing them on the couch, still connected to the music desk by a thin black wire, “listen…”

He whispered the last word against your lips, maintaining the most gentle look in his eyes as he kept bouncing your ass on his cock.

You meant to say something, but the weak cries of pleasure kept stalling your speech, the words becoming a jumbled mess in your head.

Anton’s strength helped to hold up your shaky body just as you felt your release gush around him, a bit of it seeping onto his thighs as he continued thrusting.

It didn’t take long for him to cum after that too, a beautiful series of moans spilling from his lips as he panted over you, letting his hand slide away to end the recording.

The screen read ‘5:18s’ before Anton reached over to save the track, leaving both of you shocked that you even finished that fast together…

Still a panting mess, your boyfriend held your hips close to his, letting his weight fall back in the spinning chair with you on top of him.

“We should totally do quickies in the studio more often,” you huffed tiredly, leaning back against Anton’s chest as he hugged you close, still inside your pussy.

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but maybe after I install an air conditioner in here, we can plan something,” he smiled, not even bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face that inevitably kept your hot bodies clung together.

Your hand found his, fingers idly toying with the rings he wore as he adjusted himself beneath you, “I should probably let you get back to work now since I’ve distracted you enough already—”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little longer,” he interrupted, almost yawning at how comfortable he felt buried inside you in this moment, “please?”

“Of course, superstar,” you replied playfully, nestling into his warmth and letting your eyes fall shut as you listened to the sound of his gentle heartbeat…

✶ taglist: @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @wonbinisbabygurl, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

✶ 🎀 ✶ check out more works like this on my RIIZE masterlist !!

[lvndosnorris]

lando paying for his girlfriend's nails and asking her to get those sharp stilettos because he likes when she MAULS his back during sex. bet he'll show them off like hickeys like a cocky and proud bastard being like "oh yeah i made her feel so good that she mauled my back."

you'd he so confused as the texts came through on your phone, eyebrow cocked as you pointed out which nails you lando wanted and made yourself comfortable in the salon seat. only did it register why he wanted you to get the stiletto style when he finally got back home, his thumb tracing over your knuckles as you wiggled your fingers, "you like?"

and boy did he like — buried between your thighs only a matter of minutes afterwards, babbling about how much he'd missed you even though you'd only been apart for a couple of hours. his hands grabby as they guided them to the back of his head, whining as you dug your nails into the nape of his neck. his tongue parting your cunt as you held him tightly against you, mumbling incoherently about how good you tasted and how he could live here, face buried in your cunt, for the rest of his life.

but his true intentions for the chosen nails would soon become completely apparent when he was balls deep inside of you, head buried in the crook of his neck as lando was near enough begging for you to mark him. your hands clutching his back, leaving small red marks that burnt his skin with every hard rock of his hips. it was brutal, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that had his rhythm falter and tremble. and you could have sworn you're drawn blood at some point, your scratches and claw marks decorating his upper back and waist as you were brought closer and closer to ecstasy.

and even though you swatted at him with his shirt he'd refuse to cover them — a reminder of how good he fucks you, how good he can make you feel because fuck, look at them. even going as far to sneakily leave snide remarks whenever he had friends around, the small ones that were left of his biceps harder to conceal as you'd hide your face and quickly scarper the minute they were brought up.

[hungharrington]

Your last blurb has me thinking of Steve and soft early relationship smut where it’s still fairly new and exciting and he’s just so sweet and wants to be close to you 💔💔

this is basically the premise of a little less conversation BUT it’s also such a good prompt anyways that i wanna write something goofy n domestic hehe <3 u put heartbreak emojis but i’m making this goopy sry! and actually it’s not even soft god i’m sorry MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve sinks into you in one slow thrust and makes a noise like he’s been stabbed, his forehead to your collarbone.

For one very long moment, he doesn’t move.

“You… you okay?” You ask, all breathy yourself. Your cunt pulses wildly, eager for him to start moving, for some friction— but you’re worried he’s maybe hurt himself somehow. “Steve?”

“I’m good,” He hisses, voice all tight like he is very much not at all good. It blends away as a husky tone threads through his voice. “God, sorry, you just feel—“

He gives a little rock of his hips, pulling out an inch and thrusting back in and a beautiful moan pulls from his lips. He does it again, pulling out a little further and pushing himself back in to your wet, inviting cunt.

He groans again, “Oh my god, I like you so much.”

You startle a laugh, your arms around his neck sliding down so you can pull his head up a bit. Steve’s flushed and looking sheepish by the time you get him face to face. His hips haven’t stopped moving, still small, perfect thrusts in and out, driving you mad.

“Sorry,” He says again, half panting. “Not the best thing to say the first time we fuck but,” He huffs, a throaty moan slipping out in the middle of the sentence. “It’s true.”

You’re beginning to pant too, all your inhales sounding gaspy and high. Your thighs spread more instinctively, pulling them further back to your chest, letting him get in deeper.

“N-No, it’s good,” You say, smiling a bit as he focuses on your face, his lips parted and pupils blown wide. “I really like you too.”

Your words inspire another moan, particularly loud, and his hips rut into you with more fervor, a soft lewd squelching noise beginning to fill the bedroom. Steve moans shakily, peppering sloppy kisses up the side of your neck.

One hand shifts on your hip, sliding up to press your leg further out and unexpectedly, and there’s an audible pop of a joint cracking. Steve stills instantly, still inside you, as he stares down at your hip.

“Oh my god—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” You hastily interrupt, knowing what he’s thinking. You tug his gaze over to you and away from your leg, seeing the smidge of panic in his eyes. “It just cracks sometimes, you couldn’t know that, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt.”

Steve deflates rapidly, giving a relieved chuckle against your chest where he buries his face. When he speaks, his words are all muffled, “I thought I broke your hip.”

You can’t help it, you laugh a bit at that— imagining his panic at the thought. For the third time, you urge his face up and out of hiding, leaning up to nuzzle against his face.

“Quickest way to end a relationship ever,” He jokes, but you can hear the genuine worry beneath his humour.

“No, no, I’m sorry I should’ve told you,” You murmur tenderly, dropping little kisses along his cheeks and nose. His face blazes hot beneath your ardent affection. “But hey, we’re figuring it out, aren’t we? That’s part of the fun, yeah?”

You use your ankles, crossed over his tailbone, to press him into you and Steve gets the message quickly, starting up his gentle thrusts again with a grunt. The soft noises of sex resume, mixed with your combined low moans. The rhythm from before is easy to slip back into. Your cunt throbs hotly, pleasure starting to drool through your stomach.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes heavily, watching your face closely. “Part of the fun. Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

He says it so sincerely that it makes you gasp, clenching around him and eyes screwing closed for a moment. A low whine crawls out your throat.

“God, fuck you for saying that,” You say, with no heat at all. You can’t open your eyes just yet, you’ll combust if you see how handsome he looks right now.

“Yeah?” Steve huffs, sounding a little smug. Your cunt gushes at the sound of his voice. “Oh, you’re right. Figuring this stuff out is the fun part.”

You whine as he fucks in a little harder, the angle just right to have your gut twisting up in pleasure. Your breath is ragged and you finally open your eyes again, swallowing back another sound at the sight of Steve. Messy haired, pink cheeks, reddened lips. He looks hotter than you’ve ever seen him.

“Shut up and hold my hand,” You say— because two can play that game. It works a charm. You can feel the stutter in his hips, see the ripple on his face, hear the whimper in his throat.

Steve keens, tucking his face down into your neck again. His hand searches the sheets til it finds yours, fingers intertwining before he presses your linked hands into the mattress and ruts into your snug cunt harder and faster, deeper.

“F-Fuck,” He stammers, a moan lilting the word. “I like you so much.”

You can’t even laugh this time round because your mind is starting to melt a little at the edges— but it makes the pleasure all that much better, knowing he means it.

[lovlidollie]

The bicep riding post- I need ittt

me too anon i need it too 😔 the post that started it all

in your dimly lit room, the air is thick with anticipation. you’re straddling rafe’s arm, lips bitten to shreds as you try build up the courage to do it. your covered cunt hovers over his bicep, barely grazing the warm skin. rafe watches you, eyes low and heavy as he takes you in. he knew you had a thing for his arms, it was hard to miss with the way your thighs pressed together every time he used the gear shift, or when he was holding your shopping bags, or when he was just simply working out. his frame was big, arms were big, biceps big. all of him, so imposing and so big.

feeling your hesitation, rafe lets out a little laugh. “c’mon, don’t get — don’t get shy now,” he murmurs, voice softer than usual. “you wanted this didn’t you? ‘see the way you look at them, know you wan’ this baby.” you whine at his words, face hot from a mix of embarrassment and arousal. the heat of his bicep coupled with his tone, makes your brain buzz ‘n hole clench. slowly, so very slowly, you inch yourself onto his arm, a high-pitched breathy sound escaping your mouth the second your cunt is pressed up against the muscle. “there we go, tha’s it. wasn’t so hard, huh? bein’ shy ‘n f’what, hm?” your hips twitch and suddenly you can’t stop rutting. it feels — so overwhelmingly good. it starts off slow, your body quivering as it tries to find a rhythm. the solid muscle feels heavenly pressed against you through the flimsy fabric of your panties.

rafe laughs at you, it’s mean but if anything it makes you grind harder. “can feel how wet y’are. makin’ a mess there aren’t you?” and then he flexes. flexes so that the muscle becomes even firmer than it already was. the sudden increase in pressure sends an irresistible jolt of pleasure to your clit, tearing a cry from your puffy lips. “r-rafe!” the way his bicep feels so solid, so strong, makes it impossible to stop grinding down, to stop seeking that sweet friction. “needy lil’ thing,” he taunts. his cock is achingly hard and he can’t resist palming himself as he watches you. without warning, rafe relaxes his bicep, the muscle softening beneath you. it make you mewl in frustration and furrow your brows, hips now stuttering in shock as you try chase the pleasure that’s slipping away. “wha— you— you’re bein’ mean,” you blubber all pouty.

“‘mean?’ nah ‘m not bein’ ’mean’. jus’ need you to prove you deserve it. jus’ gotta be good ‘n put on a show f’me, a’ight? you can do that, right baby?”

[kinascum]

MOONLIT - C. STURNIOLO

SUMMARY: Y/N experiences a night of intense passion and dominance with her partner Chris, who pushes her boundaries in a moonlit suite overlooking a bustling boardwalk.

CONTENTS: smut (unprotected piv, degradation, ass slapping, face slapping, humiliation, mean!Chris, head, face fucking, exhibitionism, mocking, dumbification, praise, cum eating, creampie, this matches my freak), water talk? If you're scared of boats and cruises or big bodies of water? I guess?

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

PROOF READ AND REQUEST BY: @baileysturns

You stand at the window of the balcony of the suite Chris got for the both of you as you watch the bustling boardwalk below. The shining moon casts a cool glow over the water, creating a serene backdrop to the chaotic dance of dark colors. Your heart thumps in your chest, a silent drumline to the anticipation building within you.

Suddenly, a hand clamps over your mouth, and a powerful body presses against you from behind. It's Chris, his breath hot and demanding against your ear. "You like the view, ma?" he whispers, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. You nod, your hands and chest pressed flush against the windoI'mand your eyes wide, as he chuckles darkly. "Good, because I'm about to give you a show of your own."

He spins you around, your pulse racing as his eyes bore into yours. His grip on your wrists is firm, guiding you to lean on the glass. Your heart skips a beat as you feel the cool feeling of the night breeze against your stomach. When Chris had said on the way to the pier how he'd have his way with you, you never thought he'd go so far... not that you were complaining though.

"And you're going to be so loud for me, aren't you?" he taunts, his tone a mix of mockery and excitement. You whimper, unable to form words as his free hand roams over your body, gripping your ass with a possessive squeeze. "I can't wait to hear you beg for me," he continues, his breath fanning over your neck.

"You're going to behave, right?" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. He pushes your sundress up, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air. His touch is rough, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Everyone down there will know I'm fucking my sweet angel stupid." He chuckles, the sound sending a thrill of fear and arousal through you.

The sound of the boardwalk's distant noises mingles with the rush of blood in your ears as you feel his erection pressing against you. He slaps your ass, the sound echoing faintly. "Bet you've lovefucked with an audience before," he says, his voice a sneer. "you're so lucky its late, most of them are back in their rooms"

Without waiting for a response, he rips your panties aside and thrusts into you, the suddenness stealing your breath. You can't grasp, your eyes watering, but he's unforgiving, pumping into you with a ferocity that leaves you trembling. His hand clamps tighter over your mouth, muffling your cries. "That's it," he says, his voice a sinister purr. "Take it all for me"

You can feel every inch of him, his thickness stretching you, filling you completely. His strokes are deep, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure and pain through your body. His other hand is a vice on your hip, guiding your movements, forcing you to take his punishing rhythm. You moan against his palm, the sound strangled and desperate.

"So loud," he says, his voice dripping with amusement. "You want them to hear how you're getting fucked dumb on my cock?" He slaps your ass again, the sound ringing out in the quiet night. "Let them all know how much you love this. Maybe they'll get jealous." His hips slam into you, the force pushing you into the railing. The cold glass bites into your cheek, but you can't help the whimpers that escape.

"Sounds like you're begging," he murmurs, his tone mocking. "Can't even get a sentence out, huh baby?" He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, making you cry out. The sound is muffled by his hand, but he knows you're close.

You push back against him, your body desperately seeking release. Each slap of skin against skin is a symphony of desire and degradation. Your moans grow louder, your body responding to his rough touch despite your mind's protests. He's right; you do love it. The idea of being displayed for all to see, used by him, makes you wetter.

"Look at you," he says, his voice full of disdainful glee. "my dumb little slut" He slaps your ass again, the sting mixing with the pleasure building inside you. "You're doing so good for me, aren't you?"

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing over you and stealing your breath. You moan into his hand, the sound desperate and needy. He laughs, the sound cruel and triumphant. "There you go," he says, his hips moving faster now. "squeezing me so tight baby."

He doesn't stop, even as your body shakes with the aftershocks of pleasure. He continues to fuck you, his hand still over your mouth, his grip on your hip bruising. You know he's getting off on your humiliation, on the power he holds over you in this moment. And as much as you hate to admit it, you're getting off on it too.

The world narrows to the two of you, the sound of your muffled moans and the slap of flesh on flesh. His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing ragged. "I'm going to fill you up," he says, his voice strained. "And you're going to take it."

You can feel him swell inside you, his grip tightening. His movements become frenzied, his mocking tone replaced by grunts of effort. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, he does. You feel the warmth of his release, the proof of his dominance, and a strange sense of satisfaction fills you.

He pulls out, and for a moment, you're left trembling, your body still quivering from the intensity of the experience. He leans in, his breath hot on your neck. "Good girl," he whispers, his voice a dark caress. "You did so well, mama."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, the sweetness of it a stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier words. He slowly releases your wrists, and you stand there, panting, trying to regain your composure. "Now," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "turn around and look at me."

You obey, your legs shaking as you face him. His eyes are blazing with lust and satisfaction, his smirk wicked. "You liked that, baby?" he asks, and there's no point in lying. You nod, your cheeks flushing with both arousal and embarrassment.

"Good," he says, tucking his now-softening cock back into his pants. "Because we're not done yet." He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "There's so much more I want to do to you, right here, with everyone watching." His eyes gleam with a malicious excitement that sends a shiver down your spine.

He pulls you upright and turns you to face him, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts. His thumbs flick over your nipples, and you can't help but gasp. "Look how pretty you are," he says, his voice a taunt. "They're all watching, aren't they?" He squeezes, his grip tight enough to make you whimper. "I bet they wish they could touch you like whipped."

He kisses you, his mouth harsh and possessive. His tongue invades your mouth, mimicking the way he just invaded your body. You try to push him away, but he's too strong, too overwhelming.

"Is that all you've got?" he asks, his voice mocking. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want me to stop." He releases your breasts and grips your hips, pulling you closer. "Beg for it," he says, his eyes dark. "Beg me to give you a break, and maybe I will."

You moan into his mouth, your body betraying you. You hate how much you want this, how much you crave his touch despite the humiliation. He chuckles, his eyes lighting up at the sound. "That's it," he whispers, his voice a low rumble.

He kisses you again, his hand sliding down to cup your ass. He squeezes, his fingers digging into your flesh. "You're going to scream my name when I make you cum over and over again," he says, his voice a promise. "And they'll all know who you belong to."

He pulls away, leaving you panting and desperate. "Get on your knees," he commands, his voice a whipped crack. You hesitate for a moment, but the look in his eyes tells you there's no room for disobedience. You sink to the ground, your knees hitting the cool floor.

He undoes his pants, his cock springing free. It's already hard again, a testament to his insatiable lust. "Open your mouth," he says, his voice a growl. You do as you're told, and he pushes into you, his hand on the back of your head. "That's right," he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Take it all."

You feel his hand in your hair, guiding your movements, forcing you to take him deeper. You can taste the salt on his skin, the scent of your arousal mingling with the ocean air. His hips rock back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth. "Look at you," he says, his voice filled with disdain. "Sucking me off like a good little slut."

The words make you want to gag, but you can't deny the thrill they send through you. You suck harder, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He groans, his grip tightening. "You're going to swallow every drop," he says, his voice a threat. "And you're going to thank me for it."

You feel his hand tighten in your hair, his movements becoming more erratic. "That's it," he says, his voice strained with pleasure. "That's my good little girl." You want to scream at his words, to push him away and reclaim your dignity, but the sound that escapes your mouth is a muffled moan. He chuckles darkly, the vibration of his laughter traveling down his shaft and into your throat. "Look at you," he says, his voice a sneer. "You're loving every second of this, aren't you?"

He pulls out, and before you can protest, he slaps you across the face with his cock. The salty taste of your own arousal mingles with the sting of his slap. "Keep your mouth open," he orders, his voice firm. "You're going to swallow everything I give you."

You whimper, your eyes watering, but you do as you're told. He slides back in, his grip on your hair not relenting. "there you go" he says, his voice a mix of praise and mockery. "Suck me like you mean it." You try to push him away, but his grip is too strong. You can feel the eyes of the unseen crowd on you, watching, judging.

He starts to fuck your mouth in earnest now, his hips pistoning as he uses you for his own pleasure. Your jaw aches, your throat burns, but you can't stop. You're lost in the humiliation, the feeling of being used and enjoyed by him. His grunts grow louder, his breathing more ragged. "You're going to make me cum," he says, his voice filled with disdain. "And when I do, you're going to swallow it all."

As he reaches his climax, you can feel his cock pulse in your mouth. You gag, but he doesn't stop, his hand pushing your head down to ensure you take every drop. He cums, and you do as you're told, swallowing with a sense of defeat. "Look at me," he commands, and you do, tears streaming down your face.

He smirks, a look of pure triumph in his eyes. "Good girl," he says, his voice a mocking praise. "You're learning so quickly." He wipes his cock clean with the back of your hair before zipping up his pants. "Now, let's go back inside," he says, his tone casual. "We've got a whole night ahead of us."

Your knees are weak as you stand, your mouth still open, tasting him. He takes your hand, pulling you to your feet. "You're mine tonight," he says, his voice a low growl. "And everyone on this ship will know it."

The cool night air does nothing to calm the fire in your cheeks as he leads you back into the suite. You can still feel the sting of his hand, the echo of his voice in your mind. But as you look into his eyes, you know that despite the humiliation, despite the pain, you want more. You want to see just how far he'll take you, just how much you can take before you break.

tags! @sturnstvs @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @meowira @secretagentspy @shadowthesim

[redwinterroses]

It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

[screaminglygay]

Was it worth it?

pairings: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: you decided to be a little brat to get natasha´s attention, was it a good idea? depends.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, smut!!!, dom!nat, sub!reader, spankings, the word 'whore' like two times, natasha being a bit rough at the begining, hair pulling, degrading, but also praising, overstimulation, daddy kink, finger sucking, not proofread, if anything else let me know!

word count: 3.3k

an: wrote bunch of fics, so enjoy the first one with natty:) also thank you for still liking my old stuff, i feel really happy about that, i appraciate it so much!!

You know it is a bad idea, but that won´t stop you from doing it.

Per usual Friday night, Tony is hosting enormous Avengers party and as always your girlfriend, Natasha, decided to go talk to someone else, someone who is not you.

So technically it is not your fault when you decide to have a little fun yourself, little bratty fun to be specific. You´re standing next to a bar stool, waiting for a bartender to make your drink, when you feel a light poke to your ribs.

"Your girl is busy, again?" Her eyes meet yours, her usual smirk on her face.

"Yup," you nod at Carol´s words, while you look away.

She still stares at you, "I know that look, you´re planning something, aren´t you?"

"Yup," you nod once again.

That makes Carol chuckle, "need help with that?" She asks even when she already know the answer.

The bartender finaly gives you the shot you ordered before, you pour it down your throat and look at Carol, "do you have anything more fun to do?"

"No, of course not." The blonde one just shakes her head, "watching Natasha lose it is my guilty pleasure." Carol adds.

"Good," you smile innocently, "let´s have some fun then."

Carol's hand is warm as it wraps around yours, her fingers curling gently but firmly, leading you through the tons of bodies on the dance floor. Her other hand slides to the small of your back, drawing you against her. As the alcohol starts to fuel your body the crowd fades away until it’s just the two of you moving in sync, lost in the rhythm of the music and each other.

Carol’s breath tickles your ear as she leans in, her lips so close you can almost feel them. “Having fun?” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Her hand on your back presses a little harder, guiding your hips to sway in time with hers.

You match Carol's movements, letting the music take over, your bodies moving together, "uh huh."

She spins you around, her hands never losing contact, and you can feel the eyes of everyone around you, but most importantly, Natasha’s, she´s definetly watching somewhere, you can feel it. That only fuels your boldness, so you press yourself into Carol. Until you finally notice, that Natasha is standing in the corner on the other side of the dancefloor, her eyes dark and narrowed, fixed on you and Carol. It’s working. You feel a thrill of satisfaction mixed with the heat of the moment.

“I think it´s working,” she whispers, her eyes flicking to Natasha for just a moment before returning to yours. You nod. In this moment, with Carol’s hands on you and the music throbbing around you, it’s impossible to tell if you´re exited or terrified. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you wanted.

The intensity of the moment between you and Carol is fun, so much fun for a brat like you. But then, through the haze of heat and adrenaline, you catch a glimpse of Natasha walking from her spot, her eyes blazing with a mix of jealousy and determination. You´ve got this, remeber your goal, you can´t back down-

You barely have time to process what’s happening before she’s striding across the dance floor, her presence commanding and impossible to ignore. The crowd seems to part for her, and within moments, she’s right there, standing before you and Carol.

“I think you had enough,” Natasha exhale before she speaks, her voice is smooth, but there’s an edge to it, a challenge directed squarely at Carol. Her hand reaches out, not waiting for an answer, as she takes your arm, her grip possessive.

"Come on, Romanoff. We´re just having a little bit of fun, right (Y/N)?" With a final, lingering touch on your arm, Carol releases you to Natasha.

"Yup." You nod, while smiling at Natasha.

"Someone´s gotta pay attention to her, since you can´t do it." Carol is really poking the bear right now, but you love it.

The redhead tightens her grip around your arm, you´re sure you´re gonna have a bruise the next day, and it most definetly won´t be the only one. "We´re leaving."

"You´re such a party killer, Natty." Oh Carol´s words are way over the edge, but before Nat can drag you away, the blonde one leans in and whispers, "have fun." And that´s the only thing you know, before you´re almost thrown into the elevator.

"I wanted to stay there for little bit longer," you whine at her.

Natasha pins you to the wall in the elevator, thank god everyone is at the party. "Be quiet or I´ll give you a real reason to whine!" Her hand grip tightens by every second you look into eachothers eyes.

Oh she is mad mad.

Even though your breathing gets subconsciously heavier, you feel the shivers running down your spine, you´re not sattisfied with it, you just want bigger reaction out of her… you just want more.

"Oh whatever," you roll your eyes.

You rolled your eyes. Your rolled your fucking eyes at her.

"(Y/N), I'm warning you," Natasha's voice carries a familiar, unmistakable edge, and you know that look in her eyes all too well. Every time she gazes at you like this, it inevitably leads to a week of bruises so intense that sitting becomes a challenge.

Bing.

Natasha´s grip is still tight as it was before, now she´s dragging you from the elevator to your shared room. As she opens the door she push you inside the room, slamming the door close.

"Take off your clothes and kneel infront of the bed, I´ll be there in a second." She let go of your hand and walks to the kitchen.

You slowly walk to the bedroom, closing the door slightly behind you. Your heart is beating fast, the rhythm echoing in your ears like a drum. Adrenaline courses through your veins, making your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the doorknob. The rush of emotions and sensations creates a fog inside your head, a dizzying blend of excitement and nervousness.

It's as if nothing can touch you, not even the consequences of your actions. This invincibility makes you bold, so you decide that sitting on the bed comfortably with your clothes still on is the best decision. The anticipation of what might happen next makes your pulse quicken. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it's no use—the exhilaration refuses to be tamed.

Your mind races with possibilities, each one more thrilling than the last. What will she do when she comes back? How will she react to finding you like this - not listening to her command once again?

You hear footsteps approaching, and your pulse quickens even more. The door creaks open slightly, and you look up, your heart in your throat, ready for whatever comes next. The adrenaline buzzes through you, making you feel more alive than ever, as you wait for Natasha to enter the room.

For a split second, a flicker of doubt crosses your mind. Maybe you’re pushing it too much. Maybe this boldness, this game, is teetering on the edge of danger. An alarm bell rings faintly in the back of your mind, a warning that this might be too far, too fast. But just as quickly as it comes, you push the thought aside. You quickly realize why are you doing what you´re doing. You want to push Natasha as much as you possibly can.

You can take whatever she will give you. At least that´s what you think.

But when Natasha opens the door, you know right away you should listen to her. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She´s holding… a wooden spoon.

"I-" she yanks you by the hair off the bed, all of your thoughts dissapearing from your head.

"Did I gave you permission to talk? I don´t think I did, did I?!" Natasha´s hands basically tore off your shirt and now they are trying to get into your pants.

You try to shake your head, it feels like the brat was never there and now you regret you were ever born.

Why did you think it was a good idea?

"You´re such a whore, letting Danvers touch you, rolling your eyes at me, breaking every rule I gave you and now you´re acting like you´re not capable of taking your own fucking clothes!" She basically growls out as she finally takes your pants off.

She throws them somewhere in the bedroom, "Natty-" you mumble.

"Get on your knees." You imedietly listen, being naked infront of Natasha who is still in her black suit is pushing you further and further into your subby space.

She smiles to herself, noticing your bratty autitude is dissapearing, your big eyes are looking up at her, her hand caress your cheek, your whole body is shaking, goosebumbs all around your body. You´re just waiting for what she will do next.

"Open your mouth," once again you do as your told. It is so easy to listen to her, you don´t even remeber why did you brat in the first place.

Natasha slides her thumb into your mouth, smirking as youre patiently waiting for her to give you permision to do anything further. "Go on, suck."

The way she looks at you, with those intense, penetrating eyes, makes your heart race and your breath catch. There’s a silent promise in her gaze, a vow that she will always be there for you, that she will always protect and cherish you, but there is a list of rules you have to follow all the time. Now you finally realize what mess you did tonight.

You want to make it up to her, so you do everything you can to put out a good show for her, sucking her thumb like a good girl, fake it till you make it right?

Natasha hums, walking away, sitting on the bed, the wooden spoon is still in her hand. You know very well to not move a muscle now. She stares at you - admiring your shivering body.

"For every rule you broke is a five spanks, do you know how many rules did you broke tonight?" At this moment her voice is like a warm hug, even though you know there is a big punishment coming, unlike someone, you still feel safe with her.

You shake your head, thinking it can´t be that bad…

"All of them, except one," she answers. "Althrough I think that, if you´d grind more on Carol, you would cum in a bit. Because you´re just a needy fucking girl."

You open your mouth to reply, but you don´t need more spanks, so you close it right away. Natasha notices it.

"Go on, what is it, brat?" She raises her eyebrow.

"I- I didn´t broke the… no touching rule, so that´s two." Natasha hums and pat her lap for you to lay on, you quickly rush to her lap, laying down so your ass is on display.

"So… you´re telling me that touching your tits while dancing with Carol doesn´t count?" You don´t respond, you don´t even realize you did touch yourself, while you were on the dance floor.

"I- I-" you stutter.

"Such a whore! You didn´t even realized what you were doing." She puts her hands on your ass, massaging you gently. "I guess I´ll have to teach you who you really belong to."

You. Are. Fucked.

"What is your safe word?" Her hand is so soft on your ass, you´re melting under her touch - not for long though.

"Red f-for stopping, y-yellow for slow down and uh- green is okay." You mumble as you try to shift slightly.

"Good girl," she smiles, traicing her finger up and down your back. "How does fifty sounds?"

Fifty?!

"I asked you a question," you can feel that her finger is no longer traicing up and down, it´s the wooden spoon.

"I-" what are you supposed to answer to that? "Okay."

"Okay, what?" She lightly spanks you with the wooden spoon.

"Daddy!" You wince, not because of the pain, but beause you know, this was a light one, "okay, daddy."

"Alright," Natasha nods, "I want you to count, each and every one. Got it?"

"Yes, daddy." You nodd quickly.

Natasha hums softly, and then the hell ride begins. As the wooden spoon makes contact with your ass, you wince sharply. It had only been two weeks since Natasha last spanked you like this—back then, it was just for talking back. This, however, is a whole new level.

"One!" you let out an exhale.

She didn´t wait a second and another contact was made, "two!"

After eight more spanks, tears and more shaking came, that´s when Nat´s voice pulls your from your thoughts. "Color?"

"G-green, I´m okay…" you mumble more to yourself than her.

She leans and kisses your head, "good girl, few more to go."

After twenty spanks you were a mess, absolutely regreting anything bad you ever did. Every eye roll, every single time you talked back at her, every single time you didn´t listen to her or broke a rule.

"Number darling… you don´t want me to start over, do you?" Natasha´s voice is calm, not a single signt of jealousy or anger anymore.

"No! Uh- um… twenty one?" You ramble out.

"Are you asking that or are you announcing it to me?" Her other hand is now carresing your bruised ass.

"Twenty one, it´s twenty one."

"And what´s your color, darling?" Natasha always knew when you needed a break, even when you didn´t feel it yourself. She knows you better than you know yourself. And you’re completely okay with it.

"Yellow." You take a deep breath.

Natasha puts her spanking tool on the bed, so she can but both of her hands softly on you. "I´m so proud of you, baby? Okay? So so so so proud," she kisses your head again, "look at you taking your punishment like a good girl." The warmth of her voice is matched by the warmth of her touch.

Her words carry a gentle power, each one carefully chosen and delivered with a kindness that makes you feel cherished and understood. It’s as if she knows exactly what to say to make everything better. When Natasha speaks, it’s like the world slows down.

"I just need a… a moment," you mumble as your voice is a bit cranky from all the tears tha fell during your twenty one spanks.

"Take as much time as you need, we are in no rush." There it is again, the sweet yet rapsy voice, that makes you feel like everything is alright, "remeber it is okay to stop fully, do not feel ashamed to say it, darling." You though that you can´t feel safer with Natasha, but she proves you wrong every single time.

After you took some deep breaths, you nod to yourself, "I- we can continue, green."

"Are you sure?" Nat looks down at you, her hand traicing up and down again.

You nod again, "green it is."

"Green it is," Natasha repeats your words, she already made up her mind, that you took your punishment like the bravest girl in the world. So her actions shocks you a bit, the next four spanks are light, almost like there are none.

"Twenty five." All of your tears are now away, she help you sit up on the bed, "but what about the rest?" You look genuinely confused.

"You did half of the spanks baby, I think you realized what you were doing is wrong, right?" She smiles at you, her fingers pulling some of your fallen hair behind your ear.

"I did realized that at like the third one," you answer honestly, which makes Natasha laughs.

"Good, I´m glad." She softly kisses your forehead, "lay on the bed, pretty girl." Without a second though you obey.

"You´re so fucking pretty," she mumbles as she towers over you. "All mine."

Under her gentle gaze, a warmth spreads through you, the feeling of being truly valued and admired. God how much you love her. She slowly kisses her way lower, from your pretty lips, to your neck, all the way to your responsive nipples, few kisses on your tummy all the way to your thighs. Until she reaches the part that was craving the most. Your pussy.

Natasha is making sure you feel how much she loves you, by each slow kiss she gives you. Her fingers slowly play with your clit, knowing it will make you needier. As she starts to eating you out, your hand reaches into her hair, pulling her closer to you. Once again… need more.

"Who do you belong to, baby?" Natasha asks in between your thighs.

"Y-you," you arch your back.

"Who, baby?" She knows your close, you´re almost there… you just need the one little-

"You! Daddy!" Push.

"Go ahead baby, let go for daddy." She dives back into devouring you.

"Oh my-" And just like that, everything was worth it at the end. You let out the most beautiful moan for her and only her. After few moments of going down from your high, you try to pull Natasha back to you, for a kiss and cuddle right after.

"Oh baby, we are most definetly not done with you," she smirks, shaking her head in between your thighs and she leans in, teasing you with her tongue

And she meant what she said—you weren't done after the second or even the third orgasm. Because you wanted to please your Natasha so much, you came seven times that night and Natasha looked like she was ready for seven more. But that fun is postoped to some other day. After the seventh most whiny orgasm you had, Natasha pulls you closer to her.

"It´s okay, there you go," she whispers into your ear, "I got you, just breathe for me, alright pretty girl?"

You breathe slowly in and out, taking long inhlaes and even longer exhales.

"Look at you being so good at listetning," she kisses your earlobe slowly, while whispering these words.

"Uh huh…" you nod slightly, closing your eyes to come down from your high.

"Who is my good little girl, hm?" Natasha pulls away so she can look into your eyes, she knows how overstimulated you get, especially after you´re bratting out like this, "I want you to say it, baby."

Your eyes slowly open, immediately melting under Natasha's gaze. "Me"' you mumble softly, feeling suddenly shy.

"Correct, you´re my good little girl. So good and so pretty for me," a wave of shyness wash over you, blending with a fuzzy, warm headspace that she effortlessly creates.

As she snuggles closer, her arms enveloping you, making you melt into her touch. There are some days when your aftercare is quick, since you both share this hectic Avengers life, but not today. So you´re cuddles can last forever and it most definetly feels like it. But after Nat notices that you´re bit out of your fuzzy headspace, she speaks up.

"Care to explain yourself?" Her voice is soft, yet the raspiness is cutting through, oh how you love it.

"You went away and that made me sad, I don´t want you to go to talk to someone else… I hate that actualy." You finally reveal, what bothered you.

Natasha chuckles and looks down at you, while stroking your hair, "now who´s the jealous one, sweetheart?"

"Oh, shut up," you mumble while relaxing on Natasha´s chest.

You can feel her staring at you and you quickly realize what you´ve just said, "sorry."

"That´s what I thought," she playfully slaps your ass and you whine at the touch to your still very sensitive body part.

Thank you so much for reading!:)

[taurasiluvr]

Can I request CC being pissed asf after losing a game so she fks her gf with strap using all that pent up anger

absolutely need that

caitlin was nothing short of pissed.

the game had been a disaster from start to finish. the opposing team had taken an early lead, scoring within the first few minutes, and things had only gone downhill from there. despite their best efforts, her team had been outplayed at every turn. passes were intercepted, shots missed the mark, and their defense was like a sieve, letting through shot after shot.

by the time the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read a humiliating defeat. caitlin had given it her all, running herself ragged trying to turn the tide, but it hadn’t been enough. she could feel the frustration boiling over as she stormed off the court, barely acknowledging the half-hearted pats on the back from her teammates.

in the locker room, the atmosphere was tense. no one dared to speak, each player lost in their own thoughts of what had gone wrong. caitlin ripped off her basketball shoes, throwing them against the wall with a loud thud. she slumped onto the bench, her head in her hands, trying to calm the raging storm inside her.

she was glad she had someone back home, who could soothe her frustration and help her get back the confidence she needed to have for the next game.

that was how you ended up on your stomach, getting absolutely wrecked by caitlin's favorite strap. your face was pushed against the pillows however, it didn't do much to stop your noises from echoing throughout your bedroom.

"fuck," caitlin muttered, her hips snapping harshly. she was absolutely relentless, her pace punishing and unyielding. each thrust drove you deeper into the mattress, your body writhing with the intensity of it all.

"you like that?" she growled, her voice low and rough. "like being my stress relief, baby?"

you could only moan in response, your hands clutching the sheets as you tried to hold on. the pressure was building inside you, each powerful thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

caitlin's hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack, making you yelp. "answer me," she demanded, her pace never faltering.

"yes," you gasped, your voice muffled by the pillow. "love it, i love being yours."

"good," she hissed, her hand sliding up your back, pressing you further into the bed. "because i’m not stopping until i’ve fucked all that frustration out of my system."

her words sent a shiver down your spine, the intensity of her need driving you wild. she pounded into you harder, the rhythm of her hips merciless and precise. the sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure mixed with just the right amount of pain.

caitlin’s free hand reached around to your front, her fingers finding your clit. she began to rub in tight circles, adding another layer of sensation that made your body quiver. "cum for me," she commanded, her voice dark and demanding. "wanna feel you cum around my cock."

you were on the brink, the combination of her relentless thrusts and the pressure on your clit pushing you over the edge. with a cry, you came hard, your body convulsing with the intensity of your orgasm. your inner walls clenched around her strap, your vision blurring as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

caitlin didn’t stop, riding out your orgasm with powerful thrusts, her fingers never ceasing their movement. she watched you in the mirror, her eyes dark with satisfaction as you fell apart beneath her.

when you finally came down from your high, your body trembling and spent, caitlin slowed her pace, gently easing out of you. she leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your back, her earlier anger and frustration replaced with a tender affection.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[liliesdiary]

"Not So Tough Now, Darlin?"

"Not So Tough Now, Darlin?" Shane Walsh x You

Warning: dubcon, Shane drunk fucking you, inspired by that one moment at the CDC except it's mostly consensual, brutal fuck, hair pulling, darling/darlin, fem!reader

Words: 650

Special mentions: @versatilehater @sinsandsweetness @dustbunniess

Daydreaming about Shane Walsh drunk-hate fucking you.

You and Shane never got along, he was always stubborn and a hot head, you saw his obsession with Lori and even called him out on several occasions. You and Shane have always butted heads, yelling at each other but neither of y'all could deny the sexual tension between you two. You always caught Shane staring at your ass in those short dresses and skirts you loved to wear. This time he wasn't letting it slide.

He continued his assault on your hole, tightening his grip on your bruised waist as you were bent over the counter. He was a drunken angry mess and abused your body as you trembled beneath him. Precum was slipping from his cock as he thrusted into you, making you a wet mess.

You moaned and whimpered, “Fuck, please slow down!”, you tried to protest but he covered your mouth and whispered in you ear, “You’re going to fucking take it like a good girl, you’ve been nothing but a brat to me, flaunting your ass with those tiny ass skirts you wear. You didn't think I’d snap one of these days and just bend over your ass and fuck you stupid, darlin?”

Your eyes widen and was filled with tears, your legs were shaking as he thrusted that big veiny cock of his, and fuck it was huge. You winced everytime he thrusted into your aching hole, moving your soaked panties to the side as you were still wearing them. You tried to protest again but his rageful drunken thrusts made you stumble and you couldn’t take it anymore. You fell to your knees and tried to crawl away but he grabbed you by your braids harshly and made you face him, his eyes were glossy and red, “Where are you goin, sweetheart? You ain't running away from me.” He then picked you up over his shoulders and sat down on a chair nearby.

He then bent you over on his chair and pressed his bulge against that tiny skirt of yours. You felt his bulge against his jeans, making you even more wet.

“Fuck,” He groans as he rips your soaked panties off, “You're so fucking wet sweetheart..”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your veins. You were at his mercy, completely vulnerable and exposed in this moment.

Shane's hands shook as he pulled your skirt up, revealing your bare ass to him. He gripped your hips tightly, positioning himself between your legs. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a raw intensity that made your heart race even faster.

"You think I don't know how much you want this?" he growled, his voice low and gravelly. "How much you crave my cock inside you? You can deny it all you want darling, but I see the way you look at me. The way you flaunt yourself around, knowing exactly what effect it has on me."

You bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze as shame and desire battled within you. You knew Shane was right - there had always been an undeniable attraction between you two, despite your frequent clashes. And now, here you were, about to be taken by force by the very man you couldn't help but fantasize about.

Shane's thrusts became more violent as he pulled your braids, his hips slamming against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His rough hands dug into your soft flesh, leaving bruises and marks on your arms and shoulders. You struggled to maintain balance as he continued to pound into you, his cock stretching you wider than ever before. He drunkenly fucked your pussy, groaning and getting rougher with you by the second as you stumble and tremble beneath him, "Always acting so tough huh? Not so tough now darlin, ain't that right?”

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie who has to fuck reader from behind/with his eyes closed because if he looks at them while they're giving him "the eyes" (which is just R making eye contact all doe eyed and feeling good and its really evident on their face) Eddie will bust early.

He had to add like, blindfolding to the bedroom or turning off the lights because it gets so bad and he wants to be a man of stamina but that all goes to shit when he looks directly into reader's eyes and his brain just fizzles out and his body goes with it

18+ mdni

lmaooooo. so real. I wrote this with rockstar!Eddie x reader in mind hope that’s ok anon

I think it happens further into your relationship, which surprises him- he kept bracing for the “honeymoon phase” to wear off, or maybe for you to get bored of him, but nope- y’all just keep falling further in love as the years get on, and Eddie starts becoming insatiable.

like he can get hard just from looking at you, daily. for real. he gets a glimpse- bare slip of your shoulder, the outline of your high-cut underwear through your jeans- and he’s at half-mast already.

during sex, tho? seeing your face up close as he’s rutting into you, the pleasure making your eyebrows pinch in the middle… he’s worked up an embarrassingly long streak these last few weeks of coming too soon to get you off.

not that he doesn’t make up for it two, three orgasms for you later, every time, but still- troubling compared to his usual stamina.

I think he tries whining at you when it first starts happening, as you ride him, begging you not to look at him like that. which of course makes you wanna do it harder, ‘cuz you’ve been getting off to making him come so soon.

then next time he resorts to putting his wide palm over your eyes before you can give him the look- and it almost works, but the noises you make at having your eyesight taken sends him over the edge nearly as quick.

you mix it up the next few times, find a good rhythm to build up his stamina again. he takes you from behind, you each experiment with wearing blindfolds, try having every light except for a single candle off… etcetera.

it works and he’s finally able to do missionary while looking at you again 💖 everyone cheer and clap that was really hard for him 😔

[batterygarden]

blessed (satoru x fem & afab! reader)

contents: breeding cursed technique fic, dead dove do not eat! (reader's technique is basically for conceiving strong babies), arranged marriage, stockholm syndrome, he's your second cousin so incest, explicit nasty smut & breeding, mild daddy and mommy kink, pregnancy, misogynistic society, crybaby reader, satoru is sweet ultimately, ominous but happy ending, weird montage of sex scenes + the past + the present, 3.8 k words

18+ pls MDNI!

Divine fertility.

It’s gross—somewhere inside your brain (in a locked filing cabinet, underneath a false drawer and written in invisible ink), you’re conscious of the fact that it’s gross.

Your technique, its consequences, your life; everything you’ve been born unto is filth cloaked in blessings, but, on principle, you don’t allow yourself to look at things objectively. Disgust would only make things miserable and you’re designed to be happy. 

Blessed with a cursed technique to conceive, you’ve always had a role and it’s never been disputable—one of producing heirs. Your life was planned from the moment you were born, a whole future tied in a neat little bow—you’re lucky. That’s what everyone’s always promised. 

You’ve been told how happy you are so much that the words have seeped into your skull—you’ve long since found peace with Divine Fertility and what it means. 

More than that.

You want to be bred so badly it aches. 

You can’t go huge lengths of time untouched. You grow volatile when you’re empty too long, a weakness that chains you to your betrothed’s bed. But you’re most useful that way anyways. Hormonal and needy, but certain to pass your partner’s techniques—actually you’re more than useful as a clan member, you’re honored. Enough to marry the strongest man alive—your second cousin in your own clan. 

Whether you’ve always known it or not, you’ve always lived for Gojo Satoru. 

“Do not come in Ijichi—fuck! Not…not right now.” 

Gojo stands a foot away from his bed when he says this, clothes half on while you kneel at his feet, sucking him absolutely dry. That’s as far as he was able to get this morning before you were trying to lure him back to you, looking up at him with giant, glassy eyes while you tugged the waistband of his boxers. He wasn’t about to turn you down. 

“Ngh your mouth feels so perfect. Wanna fuck it…” 

You pull back with a gasp, catching air wherever you can get it with your fiancé’s suffocating girth, nodding while you pump him in your hands. Your lips are spread for him then so he can thrust through them himself, staring down at your teary eyes while he sets a rhythm down your throat. 

You’re quickly gagging, he’s thick but also long and he’ll choke you if you’re not careful. But the relief he brings is worth it. Your craving for him didn't let up this morning even after a creampie and some cockwarming—this is just what you needed. 

He throws his head back when he’s getting close, fingers gripping at your hair but careful not to tug, and he does this cute little whine that has your pussy throbbing. So you touch yourself, too—some fingers to your clit in little circles have you toppling over the edge just in time to match your fiancé, swallowing his milky cum while his last batch leaks down your thighs, mixed with your own release. 

He’s panting when you pull away, eyes open but unfocused while the fog in his brain clears, his hand stroking your head absentmindedly. When he finally comes back to earth, he finds you’ve pulled his boxers up for him but remain clinging to his leg, squishing a cheek against his hip while fingers trace his inner thigh. 

He breathes out a little hooo.

“Did so good for me, pretty. Okay. Now I really gotta go.” 

He tries to take a step but you don’t budge, so he bends to see you better, making an expression of dumbfounded horror when he sees you’re crying. 

“Hey, hey—I’ll be back! What’s with the tears!” 

You sniffle while his big hands wipe at your face, frantic as he tries to make you better. Ijichi’s pacing footsteps are heard outside the door. 

“I don’t know, it just feels so—sniff—bad when you leave sometimes! I still want more of you!” 

Gojo frowns at that, rubbing your head some more. There’s a knock at the door which he ignores. 

“Baby… I want more of you too, but you know I gotta go. No days off when you’re the strongest. Can you be my tough girl, just a few hours?” 

You nod, your breaths calming. What is getting into you? Apparently your separation anxiety can’t even let your fiancé go to work without a break down. It takes you a minute to connect the dots and realize you’re likely ovulating—your hormones can make you a little crazy sometimes. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“My pretty baby wants to be a mommy so bad, huh?” 

“I do! I really do, Satoru!” Your voice is a sob. Satoru has been going at it since the moment he came home today—told the maids to leave him alone, locked his door and folded you into the mattress.

“Gonna make me a daddy?” You clench automatically—just like Satoru knew you would. 

“Ye—ah! Wanna have your babies, need to give you babies so bad, daddy!” 

Your neck is craned as far back into the pillows as it can go, your entire body curling in ecstasy from your cousin’s heavy thrusting. Your words have his movements turning frantic, your legs folded up by his shoulders so your silver anklet with his name on it can jingle by his ear. Satoru lifts you then, utilizing his ridiculous strength and huge hands to pull your hips higher where his cock can split you easier.  He starts hitting so deep you see stars. 

Your head tends to scramble and slow when he fucks you like this, eyes barely open, blindly clinging to the man you were born to cling to while he makes a home for himself near your womb. It’s hard to focus on him like you want to, but if you did you’d see eyes drunk on lust and power…

Satoru Gojo can be a greedy man. Spoiled, too—He usually already owns what he covets and never waits long for things he doesn’t. But even the world at his fingertips, you at his fingertips, doesn’t fully sait that want like most would expect. For example, as much as Satoru owns you, he doesn’t feel he really has you until your body’s fucked out of commission in his grip, eyes blank and stupid while your cunt spasms around him, milking his cock for everything he has. 

This is when he’s got you, he thinks. This is when you’re his, like putty in his fingers, warmed up and malleable. This is when everything’s how it’s really supposed to be. 

The two of you don’t come out of satoru’s room the entire rest of the night, except when Satoru darts his hands out of his doorway to grab trays of food the servants dropped by. It’s exhausting the way you’re used, body split and bent and bruised so that satoru’s seed can take root, but it’s also addicting. You beg for more of him, latch any remaining strength onto his limbs while you cry out his name. Satoru’s cock is addictive in a natural way—stronger than any drugs. Your betrothed’s cock is addicting like food and water and air… sometimes it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Today marks the day you’re officially seven months pregnant. 

Despite the fact that your technique has you strong and glowing (this is what you were made for, everyone continues to insist), you spend much of your time in mild discomfort. You get the feeling satoru’s passed his ridiculously long legs to his baby, who’s adamant in kicking you constantly, plus your lower back is often sore.

Still, you go about your daily life as normal—lounging, eating, making infinite baby preparations and, of course, waiting for satoru to come home so he can fuck you. 

Lately your husband is the ultimate harbinger of gifts and treats—your pregnancy has been the opposite of helpful towards satoru’s impulse spending habits, not that it’s too great a concern with the family’s bottomless wealth. He rarely comes home empty handed. Today, he’s brought a teensy yellow beanie he apparently stumbled upon at a shop and some artisan ikigai strawberries—a favorite of yours amidst pregnancy cravings—satoru’s encouraging his child’s expensive taste that’s for sure. 

You’re currently spooning in bed to enjoy them, watching a cheesy hallmark movie while satoru feeds you bites—he’s focusing much more on you than the movie. 

Honestly, he doesn’t seem to focus on much else when he’s home at all… he finds pregnant you to be more than captivating. It’s like he could watch you day and night, doing the most mundane tasks to nothing at all—in his own words he’s fascinated by how precious you manage to be. Eyes following you like you’re the most engrossing little thing, cooing to himself when you’re particularly cute. It reminds you of how you used to treat your pet cat growing up. 

You’ve gotten used to the excessive attention and coddling—it’s not like you’d ever mind a little clinging, nor was satoru’s babying completely foreign in the first place. So you let him feed you without comment, enjoy his hands wandering over your belly and curves without fanfare. 

This process quickly gets messy though; red juice keeps dripping from the corner of your mouth towards your pillow only to be saved in the nick of time by satoru’s quick fingers, reaching around to wipe at your cheek again and again, having you lick his fingers clean for him each time he does. Things get even messier once he gets the bright idea to split each berry, biting before offering you the other half. 

“I like sharing with you, this way neither of us miss the best ones.” He says with his mouth partially full, reaching down to pop part of a berry into your mouth. You hum, mostly engrossed in your film, managing not to drool this time. 

But the next bite of berry he performs directly over your neck, dripping juice directly onto your skin when he does.

“Hey!” You start to turn but he holds you in place on your side, darting down to lick up the spill with his tongue. 

You whine when he does, sensitive skin set ablaze by your lover’s mouth. 

The movie is forgotten when things easily pick up from there—things easily pick up between the two of you, period. It’s not even your first time having sex today, you took his cock first thing in the morning after a particularly needy grinding display. 

But this time it’s extra slow, extra attentive—like Gojo’s savoring you to the fullest extent. The berries are an added component, dripping sweet juice on your skin once gojo fully undresses you, only for him to lick and suck and kiss you clean. Your pussy has his attention then for what feels like eternity, your husband’s soft lips kissing and kissing and kissing like he needs to clean your juices there too. You cum so easily—you always have, but pregnant and sensitive like this your rate is almost ridiculous. Satoru, adoring as he’s been lately, doesn’t even tease, just savors. Dotes and flexes his cuteness aggression through his careful arms. He’s cautious with that—his urge to squeeze you—thinks he ought to get a medal for the self control he has to be soft. He caresses and pets like you’re a newborn yourself, fucking you just as thoughtfully. 

You’d only been alive ten short months the day the earth shifted upon Satoru’s birth. Of course you don’t remember it, but you know intimately well the way your own path was no exception to his influence. You were already confirmed to have a fertility technique, almost as rare as the six eyes themselves, when the strongest sorcerer of your time was born—the match up was obvious. You were groomed for it until his parents said yes, and then only more intensely once they did.

And as much as you love Satoru, as much as you’d live for him and die for him and anything in between—it was sometimes hard. You had to grow to love him, to accept his power over you. 

Because among the list of cons to a lifetime betrothal—a lifetime of devotion in your case—was that Satoru always knew you were his. You had an owner at the ripe age of seven, aged six and a half. 

And, unbelievable as it may be in hindsight, at times he was a tyrant. 

Tugging and clinging and pushing—at first he had as much respect for you as a child might for a cheap toy (the kind their well-off parents taught them were replaceable). 

And there wasn’t much you could do about it besides grieve and sulk—your parents didn’t let you talk back how you wanted, and Satoru wasn’t above tattling. 

You didn’t dare wish for a different husband—what with how lucky everyone insisted you were, but at times you’d wonder. What would it be like to be assigned someone polite and thoughtful, like satoru’s friend he brought around the estate from time to time…

Suguru never really got to know you enough to form an opinion on your character. It was rare he visited the extravagant Gojo estate in the first place, and when he did, Satoru often gave the impression that he wanted to keep you private. It was clear you were a permanent fixture on those grounds—just another layer to Satoru’s mystifying lifestyle. You were a complete contrast to Suguru’s friend, all reserved and polite; the only thing you really inspired Geto to feel was pity. 

Gojo was a little shit as a kid—still is in many ways—and sometimes even Geto himself couldn’t stand him. But Suguru’s always had a backbone. There was a reason he was capable of maintaining best friend status with the strongest sorcerer alive while others couldn’t (or wouldn’t) get close—and it’s that Geto knew how to tell Satoru off. He could see through Gojo’s dramatics and put him in his place—something you clearly had not mastered.

Geto saw your lenience first hand the first day Satoru tried to have the three of you hangout, watching in fascination as you protested, gave in, and then were immediately reprimanded for sneaking into a forbidden wing of the Gojo estate. Satoru got a mild scolding, a barely-there stern edge to the maid’s voice who caught the three of you—telling him that he knew better and that he had to think about his future wife’s safety as well as his own. You got a cold glare when the maid set sights on you, a tug of your wrist to your room where it was clear you’d go on to get a firm lesson on obedience. 

Once you were gone, Suguru spoke to Satoru in a hushed tone. “I feel kinda bad your girlfriend’s getting locked up now. Aren’t you gonna do something?” 

“She’s not my girlfriend, asshole!”

“You’re getting married someday. Same thing.” 

“It’s totally different. But whatever, yeah, I feel a little bad too. Probably I’ll break her out of her room later,” Geto watched Gojo absentmindedly pick a fuzz off his shirt—not a care in the world before he perked up to add, “Right now let’s play tekken.” 

And they did, but soon Geto brought you up again. This was the first time he’d met you, and really begun conceptualizing the situation Gojo was in—he couldn’t imagine being tied to someone like that at his ripe and girlfriend-less age of thirteen. The idea fascinated him.

“What’s it like, living with ___?”

“It’s fine,” Satoru sighed, going back and forth between different characters to try. “She’s annoying—got some needy physical touch technique so she’s always clinging to me in my sleep, it’s honestly creepy. But it’s fine.” 

This took Geto moment to process… 

“You sleep in the same bed?!” He put his controller down at that point, fully engrossed. 

“Yeah, ‘cause of her technique she’s like, unable to sleep alone basically. It’s weird. But other than that she’s fine I guess—a little slow. Her parents won’t even put her in school.” 

Suguru could think of so many questions he didn’t even know where to start. 

But what stood out most was how Satoru remained calm about the whole thing, at peace even. 

“Have you tried fighting it? Didn’t you say your mom does whatever you want? Tell her no.” 

Satoru waved a lazy hand at Suguru before he even finished talking.

“That wouldn’t work, ___ would just get betrothed to someone else, then. Her parents really want that for her. ‘Sides, she’s mine, Y’know? Even if she’s a weirdo it’s not like I’d give her away.”

It’s been years now since Suguru Geto has seen you last—he hasn’t been back to the Gojo estate since before his enrollment in jujutsu tech. He’s changed a lot since his starry-eyed youth, and he vaguely wonders what it will be like to see you again, if you’ve changed as well; over the years he’s found that his friend prefers to bring you up as little as possible, so he hasn’t had many updates. Though his primary focus is on the man he’s escorting, a dizzy and bleeding Gojo Satoru who managed to get hit by a scorpion curse while they were messing around on their mission. Gojo insisted on heading home after, despite shoko’s offer to provide more thorough reversed technique than his own, frowning but easily relenting when Suguru insisted on at least helping him get there. 

It’s late, not even staff around to notice as Suguru tugs Gojo along, supporting half the man’s weight through the threshold and fumbling to find light switches as he enters new rooms. But then you emerge, and Suguru can’t pick his jaw up off the ground when you do, this heavily pregnant girl in a frilly nightgown and bare feet, storming in with tears absolutely pouring down her face. After one heartfelt “Satoru!” you can’t manage to get out a single sentence you’re crying so hard, and Suguru watches the most mystifying thing: Satoru comforts you. His unserious asshole of a best friend (he thinks with fondness in his heart), a man who’s long since lost the will to show vulnerability in even the most gut-wrenching moments—Suguru watches as he meets you with this sympathetic, earnest frown on his face, crouching to let you hold him and mumbling little sorry’s. 

Suguru isn’t sure what they’re for, but he does know that Satoru has never seriously apologized to him for anything in his life. He’s expressed regret, learned from some mistakes, sure. But the word sorry, as far as Suguru knew, wasn’t in Gojo’s vocabulary. 

He says it a lot now, with this cooing voice that Suguru also finds foreign. He learns through some mumbled words you manage that your tears are from worry, that gojo promised he’d be home earlier and that he wasn’t answering his phone. Then your wails turn fresh when you notice gojo is bleeding. 

“Baby this is literally nothing—“ Geto, who saw Gojo’s initial wound and can actually see the man swaying on his feet, almost chuckles. He saves it with a cough. 

“—I basically already healed myself. You know nothing could ever happen to me.” 

This makes you mad, Suguru can practically feel how your anger tinges the air. 

“Satoru Gojo I do not know that and—hic—you’d do better to answer your phone next time!”

“Ahh yes ma’am, yes ma’am.”

That secret filing cabinet in your mind rattles from time to time when you reach your ninth month pregnant. You’ve somehow managed to stave off any ill second thoughts towards your fate till now, letting it hit you last minute like something you’ve been putting off. It’s not that you’re unready for motherhood—you’ve reached acceptance of what’s to come—but you’ve developed a slight fear of your own personal eternity being reached. Slight because you’re excellent at burying and vaulting—slight because you love satoru and your baby so deeply. 

But around your nine month marker, sore and barely even able to fuck properly, your husband makes an off-handed remark. You’d just taken him on all fours, cumming so easily despite satoru’s unusually tame treatment, and were laying in the aftershocks with sticky thighs while satoru fetched you a warm washcloth. The bath water was also running loudly, so he had to speak up while he said, “I’m gonna look to see how soon an in-ground pool could be installed, bet it’d be good for your poor hips next time you’re pregnant.” He speaks while he opens up your legs, casually wiping your shared mess clean with a soft damp towel, like he has a million times. 

Maybe you’re tired, maybe it’s his casual tone paired with such a ludicrous sentence, but the idea of buying  a pool because of what should be temporary pregnancy ailments and the implication that you’ll have them again and again… it sends you in a spiral. 

It’s not unusual for you to burst into tears with your wacky hormones—satoru’s seen your puffy crying face, especially while pregnant, more times than he could count. So he isn’t particularly alarmed when he sees the silent drops rolling down your cheeks when he returns from the laundry shoot a moment later. But he is concerned, crawling up the bed till he’s hovering to kiss your shoulder, scooting behind you to spoon your lightly shaking frame. 

He doesn’t talk for a moment, trying to decide the best course of action. He’s familiar with the tears, sure, but he knows he’s not an expert on them, sometimes he tries to talk to them when he shouldn’t and vice versa. 

Eventually he settles on a little “I got you,” for comfort, his warm hands rubbing over your arms then your belly in what he hopes is a soothing rhythm. 

You think about telling him your issues, your deepest secrets, but you deliberate too long. Soon he’s kissing you again, pressing lips in a slow trail up your shoulder and neck before switching directions. 

“I love you,” he adds. 

You won’t tell him. You love him, too. The uck and grime of it all gets buried once again, shoved in the section of your head that stays locked up with high security. You turn around and, instead of answering, capture his lips in a salty kiss, the kind that starts out soft and clumsy—sweet. It doesn’t take long for your lips to get needy though, for the sweetness to be replaced with aching. The kind that always spreads between your thighs. 

Thanks for reading eeeek! feedback and rbs appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost shares his New Year’s resolution with you.

A/N: This is an automated message. I’m still on a break. Also, a warning for you: this story does not follow canon. It’s fluff, though.

———————————————————————

You look around as you move through the groups of people, making your way toward the buffet. These New Year’s Eve parties at the military base are something else. It’s not the celebration that fascinates you; it’s the way people, just for the night, ditch their ranks and show another part of them that duty tends to conceal.

Seniors and subordinates talk like equals, and the rigid structure fades into the background, much like the slow jazz music playing from the speakers. Annoying ads occasionally interrupt the rhythm, and you make a mental note to locate the source and plug in your Spotify.

And yes, you’ve seen different aspects of their personality while on missions or in more casual settings. However, when you add alcohol into the mix, pair it with the excitement of the upcoming new year, and factor in the human need for closeness when away from family, everything feels different.

For example, you’d never have thought that Gaz gets an itch that lasts for days whenever he has to wear a Gillie suit or that Price can distinguish between different brands of cigars just by smelling them. ‘They need to have the right humidity level,’ you hear him say as you walk past the group and stand in front of the buffet. You scan the pastry platter, trying to find one that’s intact so you can pop it directly in your mouth since no plates are left. That or you haven’t spotted them yet. You look around, searching for a pile of clean ones, but pause as your eyes land on the training ground perimeter outside.

Approximately six feet-something, broad, a glass in his right hand, balaclava slightly raised, leaning against the fence, gazing up at the sky.

Your appetite for pastries is gone.

Leaving the buffet, you walk towards the door leading outside, but as you slide it open, a teammate grabs your shoulder. She urges you to share with the rest of her group about your time in Norway when you mistook a group of migrating salmon travelling upstream for a raid. You smile in response and promise her you’ll join them shortly, motioning towards the training grounds. She follows your gaze, and once she understands what you’re on about, she releases your shoulder and nods understandingly.

You slide open the door; Ghost looks over his shoulder but not directly at you. He’s not alarmed.

“The salmon story is not that funny,” he remarks in a low voice, wiggling his glass. “You should tell them about that time in Mexico.”

“You mean when I complained to the bartender that there was a worm in the tequila bottle?”

He nods, taking a sip. “Like finding a fly in your soup,” he murmurs, lowering his glass.

“I’m surprised you heard the conversation,” you state. “It’s chaos inside.”

Ghost shrugs and lowers his head. He’s not much of a talker lately—not like he’s a social butterfly on other days—but he’s not very keen on the chaos inside. Not only that, but the recent events have shaken him quite a lot, even though he conceals it well.

You rest your arms on the fence beside him, dangling your wine glass on the edge and look at the stars. He follows your lead and does the same. You lean in closer, and your shoulder touches his. He doesn’t move away—instead, he steadies himself further to support you. When you feel ready and secure, you shift your weight onto him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I won’t ask you if you’re ok.” You whisper.

“That counts like asking.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “but I didn’t.”

“Good.” He says and takes a sip from his glass.

“Should I change the subject?”

“Should you keep on talking?” He asks back.

“Yes,” you murmur. “Yes, I absolutely should.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Go on then.”

“So,” you begin, “any New Year resolution for you, Lt.?”

You feel him nod, and you stand upright in shock.

“Why look at you, Lt!” You shout wide-eyed, “I didn’t peg you as the resolution type.”

“What can I say,” he mumbles. “I’m a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a fucking enigma.”

“Churchill said something like that.” You state proudly.

“Indeed.” He replies. “Minus the ‘fucking’ part.”

“So?” You ask, “What is it?”

He looks at his glass, searching for the right words. “No more casualties.” He finally states.

“Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Considering the nature of our job and such?”

“So was your ‘no more chocolate’ resolution last year.” He replies.

“Hey!” You shout, “At least I tried!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” he rolls his eyes. “I’ll try to keep everyone safe.”

“That’s more like it,” You nod, lifting your glass. “Here’s to trying our best to keep everyone safe.”

He turns to face you. There’s a solemn expression behind those eyes of his. As if he’s determined to make this his life’s goal. He brings his glass closer to yours, and they clink together.

And as you’re about to drink from your shared toast, the door slides open, and a face pops in between.

“Here’s Johnny!” Soap shouts. Although he sports that annoying smug look, the top of his head is wrapped in a fresh white bandage, courtesy of the bullet that grazed him last month.

“I see you’re feeling better, Soap.” You say with a smile. “Would you like to join us?”

“Nah,” he replies. “Captain told me to tell you to come inside; cake’s about to be served.”

You thank him, and he shuts the door behind him. You turn to look at the lieutenant, who is slowly shaking his head.

“Scratch my New Year’s resolution,” Ghost murmurs, looking at the remains of his drink. “For this year, I plan on moving bases so I’d be away from him once and for all.” He states and downs the rest of it.

“You don’t mean that.” You chuckle and slap his arm.

“I don’t,” he admits, “but he made us all lose ten fucking years of our lives.”

“Everything turned alright, Lieutenant.” You say and wrap an arm around his waist. “Now, pull down your balaclava and come inside before you catch a cold.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and plants three little kisses at the top of your head before covering the rest of his face with his mask, leading you inside to celebrate the new year.

———————————————————————

[russo-woso]

heeeey, can you write a fic where r is the stress release after a bad game from leah ? where she just wants to rail r to forget the game and r is so submissive that she gave leah her body for her pleasure ? r is her little sex toy 😏

Release || Leah Williamson

Warning smut 18+, cunnilingus, strap-on, ‘slut’ usage, choking, squirting, bit of a praise kink.

“Le, please, do whatever you what to me. Get your anger out.” You tell her, calmly as Leah’s eyes grew darker and darker.

“Strip and get on the bed.” Leah commanded, obeying her request as soon as it left her mouth.

You took off all your clothes before laying on the bed waiting for Leah.

Leah had her favourite strap to use around her waist as she stared, hungrily, at you.

She climbed on to the bed, latching her mouth onto your neck and worked her way down.

“You gonna be a good girl, aren’t you?” Leah asked and you nodded, withholding a moan as she sucked your nipple. “Whose good girl are you going to be?”

“Yours.” You managed to get out, her face traveling more down your body.

“Whose cock are you going to cum around?”

“Yours, Leah. I’m your good girl. I’m all yours.” You let out moans in between your words, encouraging Leah to speed up her work so she could fuck you.

Leah’s lips and trailed down your body quickly compared to normal, her mouth now in line with your already wet pussy.

Leah threw her face into your core, her tongue swiping over every part of it.

Your body squirmed under her touch, the sudden contact overwhelming for you, but you had to do this. You had to do this for Leah.

With a mix of Leah sucking on your clit, and sticking her tongue into your core, it wasn’t long before the coil in your stomach appeared.

“Le, I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum.” You begged and she hummed into your pussy, the vibrations allowing you to fall of the edge.

Your head slammed itself against the pillows, your eyes slamming shut.

Before you could calm down from your orgasm, Leah had stuck the tip of the strap into you.

You bucked your hips and whined at the sensitivity but Leah didn’t care.

She had one thought in her mind, and that was to fuck you until she forgot about the game.

Leah rested both her hands on the bed next to you, her muscles flexing as she did.

She watched your face as she pushed into you, smirking as she saw your face scrunch up before a look of pleasure appeared on it.

Leah’s hands moved to your hips, grabbing ahold of them before thrusting into you.

“You’re being such a good girl for me.” Leah praised as moans left your mouth in a steady rhythm. “Taking all of me just to get my anger out.”

Leah increased her speed which increased the volume of your moans.

“Fuck… Le, ‘m close.” You told her, hoping that she’d let you cum and ride out your high.

“You’re gonna cum all over my cock, understood? You’re gonna be a good little slut for me.” Leah said, and you nodded, your orgasm taking over.

As the pleasure took over your body, you realised that it started to slip away quickly.

Leah had allowed you to cum, but she showed no sign of stopping her movements.

Overstimulated, you whined as the strap continued to be thrusted in and out of you.

“Le, I’m too…” You began but Leah’s hand wrapped around your neck, restricting your speech.

Your whines started to turn to moans as the overstimulation began to disappear.

“Give me one more, pretty girl. One more.” Leah commanded, her hips still showing no signs of stopping.

You listened to Leah, your orgasm approaching.

With a final moan of her name, you let go, squirting all over the strap and her thighs.

“Im that good that I have you squirting now?” She asked, a cocky grin on her face, as she pulled out of you, watching your pussy conch around nothing. “Would you like a shower, darling?”

“Le, I don’t think I can walk.” You admitted, a worried look appearing on her face as guilt washed over her, realising exactly just how hard she had been on you.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry that I was too hard on you, I’m sorry I made us lose the game, I’m sorry I pushed you.” Leah apologised, leaning down to press kisses on your face.

“I’m just glad I could help, le.”

“You were a big help, pretty girl. Thank you.”

Requests are open :)

[alottieluv]

mdni. established relationship, fem!reader, public fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, basically porn w no plot. prob unedited and unfinished.

bakugou and his girlfriend are almost never seen together out in public, and when they are, it's a paparazzi field day.

being a pro-hero is tiring, exhausting, and humbling to say the least. bakugou never liked having to take to the media just to begrudgingly satisfy a growing fanbase, and he never will, because there's crazy fans, and on top of that, are his fans.

so you can imagine their reaction to your first leaked photo together, blurry but more than enough to say that their beloved dynamight was taken.

let's just hope the few photos out in the world with the two of you together are enough to stoke the fire, lest one day you wake up to an article of your boyfriend publicly fucking you in the changing rooms of a lingerie store.

you only called him in for a second opinion, wondering if the color suited the tone of your skin as you drag the curtain over to cover you. though it wouldn't have matter since he'd have said yes regardless, too distracted by you.

"w-wait, katsuki."

katsuki folds your legs to your chest, his hips pressing yours as you lay across the bench of the changing room. you can feel him through his pants and the very thin material of the panties you were trying on. "we can't. someone might see, and we can't get it dirty."

you watch katsuki's eyes trail down your body, decorated in thin straps lined with lace. the sight makes him sigh and groan to himself under the noise of bustling crowds in the store. "can't baby. you look so good right now." quietly, he starts pressing kisses to your neck, caring less about leaving a mark or two, and ruts his hips against yours.

you let out a sigh, feeling the panties dampen with your arousal. you call for him, whispering lowly into his ear before he lets go of one of your thighs to undo his belt. he pulls away to catch your lips in his, giving soft pecks when he finally pulls himself out.

"pull 'em aside for me, baby." you hum and tug at the panties to push them aside, watching him align himself. he lets the underside of his length drag against your cunt first, grinding against you to let your juices mix before you feel his blunt tip poking at your entrance.

the stretch of his thick cock stings, only able to grip the edge of the bench before you let out a strained whine. katsuki muffles your moans in a kiss, distracting you until you feel him bottom out. he lets out a groan into your mouth, your walls clenching down on him, they almost push him out.

"you're so tight, need to move so I can stretch you out." he looks at you and you nod, the stinging pain dissolving into thoughtless pleasure as he starts to slowly thrust in and out. his thrusts grow to a steady pace, producing a quiet smack every time your hips meet.

"excuse me, is everything okay in there?" you gasp, looking at katsuki who only smirks at you. he doesn't plan on slowing down now. he whispers in your ear, "go on and answer them, baby. remember to speak up."

you open your mouth, readying yourself to answer when you feel his tip prod at your gummy spot. you start to moan until you cup your hand over your mouth, cutting yourself off. "hello? are you okay?" quickly, you answer but just as you do, katsuki starts to thrust faster, almost to the rhythm of the heels as they walk away.

you can feel his cock inside you, dragging against your walls and poking at your sweet spot. you feel yourself tighten around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. the employee probably knew what was going on, the smacking of your hips and the squelching sound of your pussy undeniable.

"i-i'm close," you moan, pushing your hips against his to meet his thrusts before you're pushed over the edge. your release is audible from his thrusts, pushing impossibly further into you before you feel his cum fill your cunt, dripping from the sides of your pussy where his cock is still buried.

he grunts, stomach relaxing as he pulls out. you watch as beads of cum slowly drip down his length to join the creamy ring of white at the base of his cock. all the while, he eyes the gush of your cunt, drooling with his cum.

“yeah, i think we should buy this one.”