#N. Rapture

[the-c0nquerer-w0rm]

Random character appreciation post ✨

[randomwriteronline]

He was taller than them.

Infinitely so.

They knew he wasn't that big - not compared to everything else around them, from the walls closing off his fortress to the island it sat on, to the silvery sea around it or the body it was still housed within. He wasn't even that big compared to them, and they knew that too: he was only about a bio taller than them, maybe a little more, maybe only half. A sizable, immediately noticeable difference, but it wasn't that much. It wasn't enough to make him appear so gargantuan and frightening. They had stood beside similarly large beings, and while a slight awe had made them queasy it had not been so oppressive.

But there was something about him that made him larger than life. Something that crawled out of him like white marble maggots from a white marble corpse, a strange perfect imperfection that made them feel minuscule.

Perhaps their incomplete number worsened it.

He watched them, impassive.

From how close they were to him (they could have walked up to him; they could have turned that small distance to zero and stood directly in front of him; but they didn't. They couldn't. Something inside them couldn't. Something inside them wouldn't.) they could notice that one of his eyes was not facing them: it was stuck halfway upwards, forever gazing into the sky, while the other continued to stare down at them without so much as a glint of emotion. Despite having all the appearance of a mistake on someone's part, that strange physical quirk had not been fixed. Evidently, it was not an anomaly.

"Good." Artakha said.

His voice held no warmth, no anger, no grief, no bitterness. It was clear and smooth, like polished crystal, and wholly pleasant in its completeness. Something about it almost had them recoil and flatten as if they had been just welcomed into a lethal trap of a lair by the famished growl of a gigantic drooling beast.

They had not expected he would have come to greet them himself. He never had before, delegating his disembodied words and the mechanisms of his fortress to do such a thing for him. Yet this time he had taken it upon himself to walk away from his chambers, from the pristine faintly hued greys that snaked behind him into the deeper parts of his small realm, to stand before them as he did now; in their arrogance, in their hope, they had thought upon coming back to their senses after the surprise of truly seeing him that it must have meant something.

But his tone was calm and empty, a white room with carefully set pastel toys, an environment so quiet and sterile that it smelled potently of the dust it looked to have been blanketed in.

In a strange way, it appalled them.

"You have come back to me." Artakha continued.

His mask glowed softly, golden and splendid. The runes deeply hetched upon it made it seem beyond ancient.

Against the barely visible backdrop of his reclusive kingdom, the glimmer distorted the kanohi into the garbled image of a small, sickly moon, incapable of offering all that sat around it the full strength of the light it could barely reflect.

He did not extend his arms towards them.

"Come now." Artakha ordered passionlessly. "Your work is done."

Something about that shook them from the hazy torpor threatening to devour their brains in too small bites.

"We're here to help evacuate the inhabitants of the last remaining islands," Tahu explained, mortified that his voice was even leaving him and yet unable to place why he felt that way, "The robot's insides are not safe - besides, there's so much to be done outside, and we-"

"There is no place for us in that world." Artakha cut him off.

He had not moved an inch.

They knew instinctively, uncomfortably, that his 'us' included them too.

"Our only purpose is here." Artakha stated. "We are not needed outside the bounds of this body."

"But there is life out there," Gali argued, though the mere act of speaking made her bones want to crumble in anguish to shut her up: "There are people who need us, who could use our help! There is so much to be rebuilt, and all of us-"

"You were made for this world, as was I." Artakha interrupted her.

Their lungs shriveled.

Their bodies hurt.

He remained unblemished in the face of their visible agony, perfect and still; his skewed eye ignored them as it continued to watch the now forever dimmed heavens, hanging lower and lower each day as the metal holding them aloft bent under the weight of age and abandonment.

"There is no such thing as a 'life' awaiting you in that world of real things." Artakha told them. "We are tools to be preserved: if your service will ever be needed again by Mata Nui, I will allow your deployment once more."

"And then?" Tahu coughed. He could swear his arms were melting off of him.

"Then you will return to me." Artakha answered. "As you have done now, because that is your purpose, and that is your only existence."

"And yours?" Gali hissed. Her head felt about to split into a thousand pieces.

"My purpose is to remain here and create, and see that you are used well." Artakha answered. "It is my only use; there is nothing other than this."

He spoke with the certainty of a man off to the gallows, the kind who knows well no dashing stranger or loyal friend will come to save him, and who thus accepts the coming execution with the mellow tiredness that brings the cattle into the slaughterhouse; but unlike the convict marked for death he held no sadness, no despair in his words, no roaring blasphemies nor tear-soaked regrets, not even that drowsy desire for it all to be done. He felt himself not a victim, and not like a victim he spoke, for that was not what he was.

He spoke like a machine that knew why it had been made, and that its function was now unnecessary. There was no poetry about it, and there was no injustice either. The world had begun with duty, and with this new lack of duty it would simply stop to one day begin again: he had known it would have happened since the start.

He had been made to wait until the lack of purpose passed, to one day be put to work again.

But they could not accept it.

They could not, because they were not him.

They were not machines. Not fully. Not anymore.

"We can't leave it all behind," Onua said softly, because his throat was coarse and dry as though burning inside his neck, "We have our Matoran to take care of - our Turaga, too - our friends, our-"

"You have nothing but your duty and yourselves." Artakha corrected him.

They flinched.

"As I have nothing but my duty and my creations." Artakha continued.

Few were aware that he had no brother anymore.

They did not inquire how he had come in possession of such information: beyond their inquiry being a waste of time, certainly it had not reached him in the same way it had them. Like for his reason of existence he simply seemed to have already known, somehow, that his only kin's death upon return would have been inevitable.

After all, one does not keep a broken instrument.

"We're not complete," Lewa fought back feebly, struggling through the tightness that threatened to crush his middle into a jagged heap, "Kopaka and Pohatu - they are-"

"They will come to me eventually, as you have done." Artakha sentenced. "And in the most dire of cases, I will simply make them once more."

The weak glow of his mask sent chills down their spines and almost sent them to their knees.

He had said it so carelessly. Without any inflection, any intonation, any difference in his speech. His voice had remained polished and clean, sanitized, pale colors melting into a greyish nothingness as though the images he conjured through them had not been nightmares woven into song.

He watched them as they contorted and writhed in place as composedly as they could, still slaves to the stilling awe he commanded. He did not blink.

"How many times have you made us?" Onua wheezed. Dark spots stole the sight from his eyes.

"For now, once." Artakha responded.

They wanted to cry.

They wanted to scream.

They wanted it to be over.

"We can't stay." Lewa breathed. He felt only an impossibly wide, horrible, biting cold.

The waves rocked behind them softly, gently, anchoring them to their bodies and selves as they struggled to do so on their own.

He remained unperturbed.

"Come now." Artakha only repeated. "You are to be preserved in sleep: that is my duty as well. You overshot your time active - two weeks had been calculated as the maximum amount it would have taken for you to deal with any issue; after all that has happened whilst you were awake, I assume this will be a... Pleasant... Change of pace."

(He said 'pleasant' strangely. As though he was using that word only out of politeness, without intention, without understanding it. As though the very concept behind it existing was alien to him.)

Then he turned, and walked through the open gate once more.

He did not look back when it became clear no other footsteps would have followed his own; he did not stop when the heavy entrance to his realm closed definitively behind him and he found his fortress once more lacking his most useful tools.

He walked to his chamber, passing the Matoran he had been given across the millennia: they worked in thoughtless silence, as Matoran were always meant to do, some repairing the signs of age upon the floors and walls, some taking materials to their rightful places, some finishing up the count of this or that's inventory, more still tinkering away much like he'd long been used to - perfect clanging cogs of a well-oiled clockwork. Soon enough they would complete their endless work, for nothing else would be there to be done; only then they would stop, and sit, and wait, in a blank torpor that fools might have called sleep, in order to be ready to return to their duties when their toiling would once again be required.

He arrived to the room (not the forge, not for now) and stood before his useless throne; there he stopped, and sat, and waited, staring forth with one eye as the other gazed upon the ceiling in a vaguely aware torpor, patiently existing in a stasis borne of lack of duty.

He was ready to remain for ages.

He had been made to, after all.

But movement distracted him.

A crooked thing walked into the chamber, smiling.

He recognized not the vessel, but the neutral miasma which slithered from its mangled form: it wriggled through the space around him like larvae burrowing in prey, used to permeating every mind it touched, and only regarded him curiously when it found him impervious to the complex, confusing charm of its ever winding workings.

"You." Artakha said dispassionately.

The crooked thing stood before him, smiling.

"There is nothing in this world for you." Artakha stated simply.

"The toys belong to the box, the box belongs to the child, and the child belongs to the parent."

"Leave my realm at once." Artakha insisted without animosity. "There is nothing for you here."

"In the smith's forge the furnace is indeed king amongst the tools, but a tool itself nonetheless."

"I am aware of myself and my duty, my eternity." Artakha spoke. "You cannot impede my function."

"Of course I can!"

He stiffened suddenly; his neck bent under the weight of his head and his body sagged where he sat. His chest convulsed briefly, just enough to push a murky liquid through his crevices, coating his body in blackened rivulets doomed to dry out.

His mask laid cracked and half made dust where it had fallen from his face.

He did not move.

The crooked thing turned, and walked through the door once more, smiling as it crept out of the fortress amongst heaps of stilled machines, crumpled into a pantomime of its mangled shape and silent even of their inner mechanical song, that until moments earlier had been so hard at work on maintaining the broken life-sized diorama of a bustling holy island.

[cathasacrayon]

I've always existed, since existence has begun itself. Time had also always existed, it was not born.

Nature isn't born. It has always existed.

I’m curious, little kitty, from which do you hail from to cause such… intriguing behaviors?

-💖

I do not hail from anywhere.

I have always been here.

[mercworm]

The pirate war ladies dressed up so nice I just had to draw them. ❤

Characters (from left to right): Nova Chant (@miss-twila), N. Sidious (@lee-hoots), N. Rapture (@cryptholomew) and Dr. Rosch (@slemhosta)

[iris-rainbow]

...I'm really not ashamed to say it...

You take very good care of your hair, Mr. odious...

Are you alright, Odious? It's a very uncomfortable experience to have your hair fiddled with without your permission. Though I must say, you look very handsome with your hair down. What kind of shampoo do you use?

You're damn right it is! I'm fine, just a touch annoyed is all. I didn't even notice anyone sneaking up on me and it's troubling. Plus do you have any idea how much of a pain it is to pull my hair back sometimes? Majority of the time I can't even find any hair ties, I just use my own hair to...to...

...Um...h-handsome? You um...you think...that's... that's uh... goodness I-

Ahem.

It's um... nothing special. I just picked something at random from the inconvenience store. I'll have to look at the bottle later but it's some sort of "all in one" type product.

[darknessawaits28]

Announcements {New}

Hello my lovies! Hope you are having a wonderful December! I wanted to give ya updates! I'm so sorry for the delay of these stories but I promise I will have them up as soon as I can. I also wanted to let yall know I am taking more requests, please don't shy away from asking. It just might take me a bit longer but I will have them out. Thank you again my lovies for all your love and support! Yall are awesome! :3 :3

Escape From Rapture {Bioshock story}: Part 3 coming out soon

I Would Burn The World For You My Love {Tom Hiddleston Mafia Story}: Chapter 2 coming out soon

The Chronicles of the Mandalorian and Boba Fett {Love Triangle story, y/n}: Chapter 4 coming out soon

Here are the links to the other stories:

Escape from Rapture {Bioshock story}: Part 1 , Part 2

I Would Burn The World For You My Love (Tom Hiddleston Mafia story}: Chapter 1

The Chronicles of the Mandalorian and Boba Fett {Love Triangle story, y/n}: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

[raptureshots]

another. weird long Rant abt Frank Fontaine.. :-)

(NOTE: this is all just. pure speculation and from the perspective of. If Frank Fontaine was real. all fun and games here!!! i just like talking abt my fav characters okayy!!!!)

Frank spending so much just. time in Rapture definitely had some sort of effect on him and his outlook on his life. Frank at his core is a conman who lies and steals and assumes other identities, chances are hes always had to be ready to leave everything behind at any given moment.

I don't think he's ever stayed stationary for that long. he most likely never had the chance to, yknow? because of that he also probably was never able to build up a lot of meaningful relationships. he's never had a support system, no friends (besides Reggie, shout out), no family, all because he'll never know how long he'll be able to stick around.

Never holding a solid identity probably never did wonders for Frank either. He'd always have to change and adapt Topside, become a whole new person. but in Rapture he had time to actually explore himself. learn about his own likes and dislikes. actually gain some sense of self instead of what the situation called him to be. He had a chance to be normal, to actually live a simple life.

Being Atlas as well probably changed him lots too. Being a Revolutionary is tough, but also having to constantly keep up the front he put up as well? Yes, Frank is experienced and talented in what he does, but Atlas had SO MANY PEOPLE looking up to him and his ideals. Chances are, part of him fell to deep into the Con at some points. Causing himself unnecessary stress. Just so it wouldn't all fall apart.

Which. also makes me think about his Boss Form. It's called his "Atlas Form". Atlas. Form. Atlas the voice of the people. Frank Fontaine IS Atlas. Which I mean, yeah obviously but. there's sometimes so just. harrowing about him like that, being labeled as "Atlas" . its just so weird to think about, to me at least.

Frank Fontaine is just. such a convoluted character when you think about it deeply. anyways I'll shut up now (^_^)/

[mangosmoothies]

updated my dumb little Tomura fic 🥴 give a little read she’s a little long!!

[n-odious-tropy]

You are correct, but that is called inspiration which you are mistaking for what has transpired here; to attempt to take credit for another person's work. Had it not been a word for word retelling, I might have agreed with you. Though a poet he is not, he may yet have a career of artistry in subterfuge.

God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers

[thequietabsolute]

pfft. another sunny day waking up to find The Rapture tarries. i’m not a Christian or anything. just eager to see the housing market collapse.

[fushiguho]

✰ nanami kento is a gentleman, of course he’ll clean you up after stuffing you full! it’s his mess after all… ;)

cw cum eating, cunnilingus

“c… can i taste it? please?”

nanami is peering up at you from between your sprawled thighs almost submissively, reluctantly tearing his lingering gaze away from the mess of cum that seeps from your pretty, stuffed cunt. a fat thumb is pressing against your pearly clit and you whine, hips rutting toward his face. god, he’s salivating.

it pools beneath you, a lewd puddle of amalgamated arousal, cum, and saliva just ruining the silken sheets. his cock aches, watching drunkenly as your overfilled hole tightens around his thick seed. slowly, you nod, gasping as he begins to push your thighs to your chest with an eagerness you’ve never seen.

“fuck, just hold them there for me, sweet girl.” he creeps closer, the pant of his hot, erratic breaths forcing your stomach to sink in dizzying arousal as you hook your arms behind your knees. “i know she’s sensitive, i just…” his wet tongue is lolling out of his mouth, licking a long, ponderous strip from your messy, little hole to the head of your twitching clit. “god, i just need to taste you one more time.”

a deep groan of pleasure leaves him, those pretty, pussy drunk eyes fluttering shut as he wholly consumes the mess he made between your quivering thighs. nanami breathes into you, huffing out hot, raptured breaths against your perfectly swollen cunt, fully losing himself within the saccharine flavor of your lewd creation.

two, burly digits are stretching you open as nanami begins to fuck his cum back inside of you, intended on feeding you every last drop. he forces his warm, syrupy load to the very back of your poor pussy, tongue circling over your clit so fervently that it makes your maw sag helplessly. the wet muscle is creeping lower to greedily chase the cum that continues to leak from your tightening hole.

nanami doesn’t miss the tremble of your hips or the quiver of your thighs as you indolently unhook your arms from behind your knees, slumping against the disheveled sheets with a wince of overstimulating pleasure. yes, he can hear the sweet, droning cries that leave you, but he can’t help himself from cleaning you up the only way he knows how—licking up the expanse of your lips, fingers steadily fucking you full.

“i know.” he murmurs, the tip of his sweltering tongue sinking inside of you with a pretty groan of unabashed satisfaction. “god, i know that clit is just… aching.” a thumb traces over the sore bundle of nerves, messily smearing his viscous cum. “i made such a mess… gotta clean you up like a gentleman.”

a feral little noise is dragging from his throat as you rut your hips in an attempt to escape, yet your efforts are done in vain because nanami is easily pulling your legs over his shoulders, dexterously following the unpredictable cant of your body. you’re writhing, stomach caving as his big, greedy hands paw up your waist, the soft pads of his thumbs circling the skin near your navel.

“n.. nanami! god, f— fuuuck!”

“cum if you have to, baby.” he urges, lips closing around your clit, sucking. “cum on my tongue if you have to… i want you to, please.” a hoarse groan departs from his slick lips, vanishing into the depths of your sloppy pussy as he feasts. “please? just one more time, sweetheart. god, i can feel how close you are.”

a single, torridly tender kiss to your ravaged clit is what’s hurling you over a dangerous ledge. you’re not sure what number this orgasm is, but it’s forcing your back to arch in such a way that it only intensifies the force of your bucking hips. nanami chases your pussy as you writhe, obnoxiously slurping up the final remnants of his cum like a man starved.

you squeal, pushing nanami away with a little more force than intended, sending him tumbling to the carpeted floor with a muted thud! he only smiles up at you, a crooked, pussy drunk smile that crinkles the corners of his honeyed eyes. disheveled tufts of lemony blonde dance across his forehead, face flushed with parching crimson.

his tongue is darting out to sweep across his pretty pink lips before mumbling. “sorry.”

[screampied]

SLOW IT DOWNNN MAKE IT BOUNCY !? ☆

gojo, choso, toji, sukuna, geto. riding the jjk men so good that they whine for you

cw. fem! reader, whiney men, unprotected, cowgirl, reverse, car sēx, praise, shotgunning (geto), dirty talk, spanking, biting, breaking the bed, size kink, overstim, choking (toji), wc. 3.6k

an. ateez reference >.~

𐔌 SATORU GOJO.

“oh, someone’s gettin’ ngh, cocky.” he’d groan, semi-sweaty hands glued to both sides of your waist. gojo can’t even try to hold his whines because it’s not even seconds later and his head throws itself back in rapture. with a cute abashed expression spraying over his sour features, he swallows what’s undoubtedly the last few drops of his pride. “f-fuuuck, teasin’ me with these killer hips. ‘s no fair, baby.”

and as he speaks, watching you jerk and grind against him at a much more lively speed—gojo captures a nice chunk of your ass, gifting it an impolite smack. he’s so embarrassed that a hand of his covers his mouth. giggling, you gradually peel his hands away, kissing near the tip of his nose. “awwwh,” you coo in a seductive purr, barreling his fattened length inside of you. “don’t be shy, ‘toru. i wanna see that pretty face.”

“shut uppp,” he whines again, a pout immediately stretching over his sheeny-slick lips. your soft touch alone sends him electric shivers to meander all through him. his dick twitches from the sweet sweet friction before cereluan-pristine eyes of his roll their way back into the very ends of his skull. “ugh, you do it s-so good though. fuck me, f-fuck me please.”

with your arms flinging around his broad pent up shoulders, you lean in to bestrew a few kisses near the corners of his mouth. gojo’s rosé-colored lips tremor in longing for more of you. for more of your touch, more of your taste. the head of his cock pursues to mash against your folds, thwacking and thwacking away. “slower, baby?” you whisper against the very hem of his ear, giving it a little nibble to earn another wailing whimper from him.

“s-slow, yeah,” he holds your hips in place, having a race with his own breath—a mere competition. you’ve got him right where you wanted him. submissive, pinned down, and needy. with a three second clear of his throat, he groans, meeting your gaze once more. “don’t get cocky.. ‘m still the strongest ‘n i can flip you over ‘n h-have my way if—”

he gets cut off by your lips, his muffled moans pour right into your mouth and he purrs once a finger of yours strokes alongside his undercut.

another whine leaves from gojo’s lips the moment your fingers brush against there. his precious undercut. anytime your finger would drag down that part of his hair, he’s already a melting puddle. his face was flushed as you’re rocking back and forth against him. heavy drawing pants sneak out of his lips before he lets off a tremulous whine. “o-oh my god, ‘m gonna cum,” and he knows from the way his tip starts to repeatedly swipes against the insides of your sopping cunt. you’re clinging onto him tightly from the inside—a grip so tight that it makes him bite his lip, begging for more. after a while, leisurely—your lips comes to a slowing slow.“fuck, f-fuck me. ngh, think this pussy’s gonna kill me.”

“you’re so dramatic baby,” you tease, sneaking a wet kiss near the corner of his mouth. “mwah,” and he shivers from your touch. clammy hands of gojo’s grab onto your waist, pulling you further against him before he grunts against your ear. even his whines, they were so cute. he’s never felt more embarrassed. with his head tossing itself back, his eyes widen before he’s dumping a thick load into your needy cunt. “mhm, ‘s good,” you hum, panting yourself before you cup both sides of his face. who was once famously known as the strongest, was now easily able to be mistaken as the weakest . . especially whenever it came to pussy. your pussy. you titter, still feeling him trickle such gummed amounts into you. it’s so sloppy that it sloshes all around your beloved insides. “good boy.”

“f- fuck, say it again,” gojo sheepishly grins, laid back with your waist still in his tight grip. he’s all pussy drunk, the epitome of the word, really. a pout stretches against his lips as he waits for your reply, pretty navy blue irises doe at you before he pants.

“good boy, ‘satoru, my good boy,” you repeat, playfully flicking his chest back so you could go again. “let’s try that again, hm?”

“y- yes baby.”

𐔌 SUGURU GETO.

“s-shit,” geto whews, hurling an arm around the back of his reclined car seat. the mood couldn’t have been more perfect. you were riding him in his car, the view was so pretty. you were so pretty, the way you’re moving all against him—taking his breath away. the woodsy scent of geto’s leather jacket roams through the air as you creep a hand up into his biker white tee. “thaaat’s it, slow baby. slow, fuck me good, yeah?”

geto’s groans only makes your pussy throbs multiple by the second. a plump shaped blunt sticks from the side of his mouth, taking a few milliseconds to recover from his most recent puff. with bloodshot eyes, he can’t help but pull you into a deep kiss, blowing a few gusts of air into your mouth. as it travels, his tongue fervently gyrates against yours before you blow it right back into his. once you swallow, it tastes earthy and citrusy. as it aerates between each mouth, you moan, “s-suguru,” you moan, feeling his fingers prowl its way against your waist to the very undersides of your thighs. you made sure to go slow, slow and steady. geto’s for a sleazy grin, feeling the wetness of your cunt take him with all its might. “gonna cum soon.”

“bet you are,” he whispers, his foot tapping against the carpet floor of the parked vehicle. by the second—geto’s raspy moans start to get more vocal within each jiff that passes. as he’s still buried into your cunt, entangled with every inch of you, your speed arises with its own deliberate quickness. “fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna send me to a hospital with those nasty hips.”

“should i go faster—?” you coo against the shell of his ear, the tip of his cock kissing against your g-spot. it’s a tickling sensation that’s almost enough to make you drool.

geto grunts, his voice becoming a bit more trembly. with the way your body jolts against him in harmony, he’s feeling that familiar primal heat snake its way into the pit of his stomach. “slower, i- i like it when you’re slow for me, gorgeous.” and a hand of his caresses near the juncture of your thighs. you moan from his touch, vast pads of his fingertips ghosting against your skin. a hand of geto’s reaches towards his blunt and he takes another long deep puff. “ugh, ‘m hitting you in that spot. gonna milk me again, sweet thing.”

“don’t miss this time,” you whine against his neck, taking a few seconds to lick against his skin. geto hissed at the brief pang that entraps m his cock from the base down with such bliss. your cunt’s greedy, swallowing it whole with its entire being—never wanting to part. grabbing onto his large pointed shoulders, he’s just making you throb time and time again. a moistened tongue of his licks against his parted lips before he feels a clench. he’s so fucking thick, as you’re barreling his staggering length, repeatedly slamming down against his lap—you feel him starting to judder from underneath you. it comes in waves and he’s about to lose all kinds of composure with your movements. “come on, sugu. cum with me.”

“keep talkin’ to me like that ‘n ‘m gonna propose.” he jibes, though part of you knew your boyfriend was serious. “mhmnn, f-fuck, ‘s good. right there, right fucking there.”

by now, geto’s entire voice wasn’t the same as it was a few minutes ago. he’s whining, sweet cacophonies of “f-fuck me,” and “baby, ‘s good,” continue to spew out of his lips. in the background, obscene pressure continues to arise and alleviate inside of your own tummy—you’re swaying your hips against him at such force that not even gravity could keep up with the pull. the foam of the driver’s seat nearly wears itself thin before you toss your arms around his neck. “i know baby, give it to me. cum with me, sugu.”

“anything for you, sweet girl,” he hiccups, and that’s the last words he remembers murmuring before he shoots satiny ropes of cum into you. your hole flutters and within seconds, you end up finishing right after him. you both moan in unison, yet geto’s louder, he’s whining against your ear. with his head slump back, he’s barely holding onto waist now. geto’s body shakes as he comes undone, filling up your insides with such amounts of viscous seed. he’s panting, heavily. it’s so much that it dribbles from your pussy towards the crevices of your thigh. “s-shiiiiit,” he sibilates in a single breath, flicking his rolled blunt aside. with a low sigh, he leans back against the fleece made seat. “goddamn, baby.”

a smile purses against his lips, a timid one, but still a smile. above his lap, you’re still spasming yourself. you bring your rotating hips to a steady halt before you press a wet kiss against the edge of his wobbly pursed lips. “you okay, sugu—”

“marry me,” he cuts you off, wrapping his beefy arms around you. “i want you.”

𐔌 SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“tch, you’re such a pain,” he’d murmur at your first request to ride him on his throne. “but fine. get up here, woman. ‘n be quick, got things to do.”

despite his gruff tone and stern exterior, you’d make him chew his words in a way he’d least expect it. as sukuna preps you—getting you nicely soaked and wet, he aligns himself against your slick opening. you glance down at the upward curve of his dick and it was purely appetizing. he was already big regardless, but just fantasizing about taking him in his true form with his two cocks make your mouth start to pool with filthy, syrupy saliva. “f-fuck,” you’d mutter, ogling at the cunning grin of his stretch against his face in your peripherals.

bastard,

there was never a dull moment where sukuna ryōmen was not smug—he loved relishing your cute pornographic expressions. how you’re biting your tongue until it turns into chewing, taking every chance you get to suppress your cute little whines. “mhm, such a good girl. you take it quite well for a brat i must say.”

“shut up.”

“make me..”

two predictable simple words and you in fact do make him shut up — just with your salacious hips alone.

as sukuna’s lazily leaning back against the hardened furniture of his infamous throne—he was cocky, just talking and talking.

as you’re grinding your hips against his lap in a lewdly fashion, you nip a bit near his neck. he scoffs, a hand of his pulling your waist closer towards him. with each vigorous jostle, you’re starting to pick up the pace. he’s stuffed all the way inside, churning your insides up like butter. mixing all around your gripping walls with his fat cock, you moan—feeling the edges of his claws gingerly dig against your skin. your flesh, he’s grabbing a fair piece of your ass before he smacks it. the recoil makes him groan, your hips were a mere enemy, a force to be reckoned with..

“is that a pout?” you brush a thumb against his bottom lip, leaning in to kiss him but he growls. sukuna bares a single dang, and instead of it being intimidating, it’s just cute. ruby flared irises of his stare into you before he’s just lounging back against the chair. “f-fuck, ‘kuna. you don’t have to hide your moans, you know. ‘s just me.”

“shut up, girl.” he snarls, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. as you’re continuing to slowly rut back and forth, he gnaws on his lip like it’s candy. for a second, you watch as his eyes flicker. sukuna’s eyes switch to white and then he whines. it’s so faint that you could barely hear it, but he definitely slips out a whine. in a husky groan, he whines again— this time, it’s more of a sweetened whimper. “f-fuckin’ shit,” and he notices you slow down to openly stare at him. he glares but it doesn’t even last because as you’re keeping the entirety of his pulsing shaft warm within your tender walls, he whines again. “don’t look at me, ugh. i— phew, i need a minute.”

you pause, feeling his dick twitch inside your clenching before you have a teasing smug grin. throwing your arms around his shoulders, you peck a kiss near his cheek before running a finger down his chest, sliding past the fabric of his half-work kimono. “take all the time in the world, old man.”

“w- watch it.”

𐔌 CHOSO KAMO.

“don’t think ‘m gonna last,” choso blurts, starring at your gorgeous reflection through the mirror. you’d mention to him that you wanted to try riding him in reverse. he didn’t mind, he was more excited than anything. anytime you’d recommend a new position to try with choso, his eyes would light up. it was purely adorable—with wheezing breaths, he softly sinks his teeth into the margin of your neck. a lengthy tongue of his runs down your skin before he moans. “ngh, go s-slow like that, baby. ‘m hitting you so deep inside i think.”

and he’s just babbling to you, pathetic candied whimpers going into your neck as he sinks into your pussy raw. the concise stretch that shortly follows has your heart racing—head spinning, mind forevermore in a never ending loop.

“fuck, hold me choso. hold my hips, mhm,” and as your grinding significantly accelerates, you feel the sensation of your chest deflating. choso’s sputtering out cute inaudible whines into your neck as you’re moving your hips quicker. “touch me, good. good boy.”

“your good boy,” he immediately replies, taking a second to slink his quavering, reddened lips against the nape of your neck. each kiss he gives you stacks up before it turns into sweet, desperate sucking. choso moans, savoring the taste of your tender skin as you’re thrashing your hips against his. his throbbing cock consistently curls inside of your walls before he nibbles against your collarbone. “hngh, baby. your hips, you’re slowing down on purpose—aren’t you?”

with an airy giggle, you grab onto his knees for support. “should i slow down for you, ‘cho?”

“n-no, please,” he swallows. instinctively his big, bulky arms wrap around your waist. he’s giving you a gentle firm squeeze like a teddy bear. choso never wants to let you go—not now, not ever. he’s starting to hear the expeditious pumping beats of blood pulse through his ears, metaphorically slurping up your fervor, and he whines again. “f- fuuuck, that spot, gonna drain me. feel it, ‘m gonna cum. can i cum?” and he halts his jittery speech before whimpering against your twitching ears. “please lemme cum. don’t wanna b-be messy without my girl’s permission first.”

a breathy whine of your own leaves from your spit slicked lips before you kiss his cheek. “yes, baby. you can cum. ‘s okay,” and he pouts, a longing expression marinating against his features at your words. oh, if it was anyone who could turn him into a soft sap, it was you. you and your seductive, mouthwatering hips. choso brings his wrist over his face as you’re still maintaining a decent pace. his cock matches your movements in sync, piercing through every orifice to make your thighs tense in desire. nirvana, ecstasy, you feel everything coursing through your veins at once. choso’s cute whimpers were now all muffled from him trying to cover them with the back of his hand.

it was cacophonous—he leans back into a slump as you’re mashing against his body. hot needy bodies press back against each other in harmony, it’s so hypnotic. the insides of your viscous walls were smoldering with heat before he dumps right into you. it’s abrupt, a gasp snakes out from his throat as he’s feeling himself spit out such gobs of cum into you. you’re heavily trembling underneath him. it’s so much that it even costs near your thighs, dribbling down and it feels so sticky. you hum into his neck,

it’s so much—choso’s shaking right with you, strands of blackened hair running down his forehead, nearly occluding his vision as he’d still covering his face. “o-oh shit,” he whimpers, and he swallows, the air suddenly growing mute. he can hear the wet, sopping sounds of your pussy soaking in all of him before our of nowhere—it’s a ear splitting creak. choso’s so out of it that he doesn’t even realize nor acknowledges that the headboard collapses down. your hips were to blame, he doesn’t even flinch—instead, he pulls you into a needy kiss. it’s sloppy, he sucks against your tongue as you’re still keeping his dick warm. it’s twitching, convulsing within your hold. as tongues tango alongside each other, he grabs your hips. pulling away, he huffs. “more,” he pants, and you gasp once you’re suddenly now gently pushed on all fours. your ass gets shoved up by choso and his voice pitches. he’s still whiney, but he moans, prodding his leaky tip against your hole. “love you baby. but i-i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

𐔌 TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“can a little girl like you even handle me?”

famous last words—

it takes you a bit to adjust to toji’s thickset size, but once he’s all the way inside, his jaw tightens. your jaw tightens too. he’s quite the size with a fair amount of girth that it makes you feel a chilling snapping coil within you. you lean into him, smothering a few saturated kisses near his chin, his neck, and most importantly, his scar.

a sly smirk tug its way against his pink lips as he feels you show his slanted scar its deserved uninvited attention all while you’re jerking your hips against him. “you talk too much,” you inhale, the fullness of your lungs merely snatching the wind out of you. he couldn’t deny it though, your rhythm, it was enticing. rough big hands of his grip against your hips and you can see his adam’s apple bob once his head tilts back a bit. while the manly musk of toji’s cologne wafts through your nostrils, your pussy starts to constrict every few thrusts as he’s deep inside. he’s so big, his swollen sack repeatedly jackhammers and pummels against your soddened cunt before he starts to lean back more.

“ya gonna do somethin’ about it or…?” toji sneers at you, lincoln green eyes never taking you seriously. stubby fingers of his dig into your skin, clasping against your hips as you swing back and forth. as you oscillate against him, he’s taken by surprise once you wrap a hand around his throat. “ooh. chokin’ me too? ‘s kinda kinky, baby. got some nerve, heh.”

“shut up, toji.” you moan, and his eyes continue to wander down your body. god, he can’t help but stare a bit. the way your perfect rounded your tits bounce against your chest. just perfect. his hands were all over you. your body even has somewhat of a gleaming glow, simply from the sunlight that ricochets off the window pane right above the two of you. your hips only then started to get increasingly sloppy,

the action itself turns him on. with an eyebrow raise, you lean in to kiss him. he chuckles darkly, allowing you to rummage your tongue against his.

as your warm body continues to collide against his in such a swift way, he groans in your mouth. you decide to be a tease, creeping a hand against his chest to play with his exposed, broad tits nipples. your fingers strum against it as you’re still shoving your tongue down his throat. with his dick still happily tucked inside of your gluey, grippy walls, he suddenly lets off a whine. “m-mhm?” and he pulls away from your mouth, a string of glutinous saliva snatches away from each spit-coated lips before he sighs. “fuckin’ girl. told ya how my n-nipples get me sensitive when you suck on them.”

“cover them up next time, slut,” you tease, bringing your lips to kiss near the bridge of his nose.

toji’s eye twitches—his pecs were all swollen and out on display, you even inch your head down to lick a stripe against his nipples. “mhm,” you’d hum, feeling his entire body shiver from the coldness of your tongue flick around his tenderly sensitive skin. he huskily groans once you position yourself back up, slamming your legs down against his lower crotch area for the nth time.

with how hard your body smacks against his, you’re sticking against toji like glue. adhesive and all, with your arms still flimsy and frail—you start to make your speed quicker. as your hips piston in pleasure, his low pitched moans start to get louder. “ah, f-fuck,” he leans back, spanking the right temples of your ass. over and over and over, his hand swats against your skin repeatedly like a broken record. “fuck me then,” bratty viridiscent pupils meets yours, and his voice was on the verge of being weaker than it already was. with his tone all cutely strained and timid, it was nothing like the usual toji who’s always haughty and cocksure. as his ravened brows curl into a frustrated furrow, he starts to grab your hips to get a more thorough angle inside of your puffy pussy. “wanna put me in my place? fuck me then,” and he whines again once you squeeze his left nipple, kissing the edge of his scar. “hmph. ‘s doesn’t mean anything though. ‘sides, if y’er g-gonna choke me, at least do it harder, h-heh.”

[n-odious-tropy]

Ah, right. Love is your area of expertise, isn't it?

The way I see it, love is a glass cannon. A source of power as much as a source of weakness. It's frightening, the very idea of laying bare your heart in another's hand and praying they don't see fit to crush it. To show someone the darkest and ugliest parts of yourself and hope they don't look away. I've always heard that to love others, first you must love yourself. Be that the case, the outlook appears bleak.

But to answer your question, I do not know. I hardly consider myself adept in any capacity to display such affections. It's foolish to consider the notion that I don't know how to love, not like everyone else. It feels as if it just doesn't belong to me and I cannot give what I don't deserve to have.

Such a frivolous holiday, this Valentine's Day. It's almost sickening to see such shameless public displays of affection. It's all about the show, isn't it? As if you can't value love on any other day.

At least the history behind this celebration is interesting enough, but as with everything else in the modern times, it's been tainted by the spirit of capitalistic greed and materialism.

[bible-prophecy-in-action]

BIBLE PROPHECY IN ACTION

What the Holy Bible says of this horrific decade just ahead of us.. Here's a site expounding current global events in the light of bible prophecy.. Visit https://bibleprophecyinaction.blogspot.com/ to understand more.. You can also read or buy/order christian books/Literature online on our website..

[cosycafune]

NO ESCAPE ZONE…

1.7k words. sure, you’re supposed to be taking sylus’ measurements. yet, what happens when you’re sexually drawn away, pushing forward an offer that the two of you can’t refuse? once you’ve made a deal, you have to keep it.

acts: oral (m) receiving, throat fucking, gagging, whimpers, facial, cum-swallowing, crying, sadistic tendencies, massive cock, slight cock warming, almost getting caught and more.

a/n: he’s officially my favourite now. like, he’s the perfect man. argue with the wall if you think I’m wrong. 1/3. pt2 here.

────୨ৎ────

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

PROPPED within such a delicate space, your heart boisterous, you remain before Sylus. A measuring tape embroiders your fingers, leaving you a contorted mess — your fingers situated against his sculpted abs.

“Do you want me to wear the wrong size?” Snarky aloofness mixes into Sylus’ question.

Patronisation stains him while he looks down at you, his crimson eyes slicing into your facade. Wickedly, mischief tints a composed Sylus. It sculpts him into soft grunting at your touch becoming more intense.

Skilful, you clumsily back into Sylus’ chest. His closeness clamps around your mental functions, rendering you breathless. Attempting to scoff, to paint yourself as unbothered, you continue to take in Sylus’ measurements.

“With your cloudy mind, you are going to mess up my outfit,” Informing you, Sylus’ vibrating tone causes your breath to hitch. All the stability within you was beginning to falter.

“Stop complaining,” Stubbornly countering Sylus, you allow your delicate fingers to fall against his v-line.

Blooming with forbidden thoughts, you cast yourself into becoming bolder. Tracing the intricate curves of his abs, you lightly disregard the measuring tape. Unable to revert, you continue — knowing this is a no-escape zone.

“You can do whatever, but we’ll have to strike a deal, sweetie,” Taunting you, Sylus gruffly speaks — observing you drift your hand incredibly lower.

“Mhm, you can do whatever you want to me, Sy’,” Responding to him, you momentarily gather the courage to sensually flutter your eyelashes at him.

“Be careful of what you put on the bargaining table,” Uncaring at Sylus’ warning, you roughly drift your hand lower — casting your palm into resting against his cock outline.

Mesmerised, you plaster yourself into listening to his rapturous heartbeat. Grinning, you develop lustful at Sylus’ stolen groans — pushing you into cruelly squeezing.

“Is gentleness not an attribute of yours?” Grunting, Sylus cloudily questions you.

“Your body begs to differ,” Mocking Sylus, you teasingly trail over the ample outline — listening to his sensitive gasps.

“Damn, s-sweetie,” Stripped of composure, Sylus voices his guarded heart — curling into your fingers prying at his concealed fly.

Riddled with tainted control, you greet Sylus’ fluttering eyes. Naturally, he tries to suppress his anticipation — beads of sweat contrasting his coolness. Happiness festoons you while you silently unbutton his trousers.

Bubbling with ropes of control, you allow his elusive trousers to fall — completely pooling before the both of you.

Smothered with commitment, you glance at Sylus’ thick, girthy, pre-cum, adorned erection. An erection that’s scarcely caged, pointing greedily in your direction.

“Your body always goes against your mental stoicism,” Corrupting Sylus’ sanity, you lowly speak — pushing eagerly closing your plush thighs.

“Is that why… you’re clenching your thighs?” Fixed with a strained expression, Sylus’ territorial inquiry causes you to innocently puff out your cheeks.

“Is there any reason to lie to you?” Raising your brow, you counter Sylus’ point — beginning to disregard his cock-blocking underwear.

“If you were a fool, of course,” Your abdomen curls, refined by butterflies at Sylus’ snarky remark.

It completely aroused you, pushing you into straining the ache that wells within your toned thighs. Pushing with a restrained might, you almost cave at Sylus’ clouded gaze resting upon a lust-trembling you.

Shaping yourself mentally, you lower yourself with every fabric tug — inching painfully nearer to Sylus’ throbbing cock. Shuddering with longing, you admire every vein that greets your smitten eyes. Sheerly his v-line made you almost finish, riddled with your release between your clamped thighs.

Lowered before him, dominance still ravelled around a patient Sylus, you continue to watch as his girth cock eventually releases itself from his briefs. Drool adorns your lips while you admire the thickness of his precum-beaded tip.

Nothing within you could manage yourself as you loudly gulp, allowing his underwear to properly fall. Dutiful, you push yourself into grasping his girth — smearing your fingers against the midst of his large cock.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re on your knees,” Admiring you, Sylus admits his thoughts — glancing down at you with admiration.

“You’re next, Sy’,” Too enamoured by his monstrous cock, you whine with longing — wanting to fill yourself up with his cock.

However, you’re in a reserved place.

“What was that?” Eagerly questioning you, Sylus softly moans at your lips parting — gently kissing upon the tip of his dripping cock.

Before you could consensually glance at him, Sylus releases crimson and raven tentacles from his evol. Satisfyingly humming, he casts himself into smugly glancing at you — consumed by you hungrily greeting his gaze.

“You…heard me,” Replying hazily to him, you reach towards mentally satisfying your sexual trance.

Being swiftly released, you blanket a hand around Sylus’ inhumane cock — relishing the delicate, veiny skin. Focusing your lips, you pepper tender kisses — consumed by the idea of satisfying him.

Filtering your hearing, you pluck out the hefty sounds of Sylus’ needy moans, his breathless pants, his silently voiced eagerness. To you, it was obvious that the heartless man was riddled with an immense amount of pleasure.

Content with how effective your touch is, you widen your warm mouth — burrowing Sylus’ tip between your saliva-tinted lips. Slimming your cheeks, you contently suck down on his tip — innocently flaunting your glimmering eyes.

Unable to stop yourself, you prepare your mouth for more —- flattening your tongue before you push your head further. Completely enticed, you lodge your mouth with Sylus’s cock — rewarded by his subconscious moans.

Flustered, you mellowly watch his cheeks grow blessed with a crimson hue. Pleased at the rare sighting, your curiosity peaks at Sylus’ fingers yearning to burrow into your hair and guide you.

Honoured, you strategically fill more of your mouth with Sylus’ girth. Knowing his heavy cock would be hard to fully put into your mouth, you take a little bit more — filling your mouth so obediently.

“Oh, yes,” Unwilling to quell his moans, Sylus completely releases them. His lips part with his intense gaze glancing down at you, his eyes rolling back effortlessly.

Fond at Sylus’ enjoyment, you softly bob your head — feeling every vein whilst you intensely suck down. The warmth of his cock stains your mouth while saliva drips from your lips, supporting the pace that you set for your mouth.

Contently sucking, Sylus subconsciously bucks his hips into your mouth — his fingers grazing your forehead. Beautifully obeying him, you listen to his every moan — love-stricken by the gushy sounds of your cock-sucking.

“This…is the…best way of shutting you up,” Playfully rolling your eyes at Sylus’ scrambled words, you harshen your pace — watching silence envelop a trembling him.

“Ah! Yes!” Unable to control his breathing, Sylus’ frantic moans continue to spill over you.

As he watches you through strained eyes, Sylus softly bucks his hips into your mouth. Stirred on, Sylus strengthened his pace while you fruitfully gag on his cock. Unwilling to pull back, teary at his pleasurable pace, you grow flustered at the heavy squelching sounds that flee from your lips.

“Such a…good girl,” Sylus contently praises you, throwing his head back.

Testing your limits, Sylus pushes your head against the base of his cock — turned on by your heavy gagging. Lightly pulling back, your face riddled with tears, you grin at him.

“Too much?” Concerned, Sylus’ beams of affection tint his question.

“More,” Wooed by Sylus’ subconscious yearning, you gesture for him to throat fuck you.

Blanketed by your compliance, Sylus casts himself into slamming his cock into your mouth. Your heavy tears falling completely turn him on, leading to him quickening his pace further at the lewd sounds of his cock fucking your throat.

“Close, my…sweet,” An aggressive, focused expression tints Sylus’ face while he watches you, so near to finishing.

Nodding lazily, Sylus’ pace effortlessly creates an impossible momentum. Narrowly struggling to keep up, your eyes flutter at him burying your mouth impossibly with almost every inch of him.

“Hm, take… it,” Smushing your lips against his cock base, Sylus almost hunches over with his energy-consuming statement.

Flushed, Sylus’ worded murmurs completely stain your ears. Ears before he holds your mouth there, hardening effortlessly. Almost rendered breathless, you hold out for him — listening to him moan extremely loudly. His loudness leaves your thudding cunt a pooling mess, in need of being touched upon and coddled.

Grunting so audibly, Sylus relaxes whilst his throbbing cock shoots out thick, warm cum down your throat. It causes him to almost bellow a whimper at the sensitivity, panting harshly whilst his balls are finally empty.

Strained with pleasurable tiredness, Sylus happily pulls back from a used you. A small beam frames his lips while he admires your smudged mascara, your streaming tears, the cum and saliva bubbling around your lips, along with the drops staining your clothes.

“Swallow,” Sylus dominantly instructs you to do so, accidentally bringing himself to finish against your face.

Gasping, you slightly flinch at his thick beads of cum caressing your eyelashes. However, you then hear the sound of a worker stirring nearer to your reserved spot. Panic arises within you, causing you to hyper fixation on the cum staining your face.

You’re far from presentable.

“Sy—”

“—Are you ready for your measurements to be finalised?” A worker so cheerily asks, causing you to stifle your breaths — embarrassed.

“I think I’ve already finalised my measurements,” Smirking, Sylus responds to her — gently placing his cock back into his briefs.

“I’ll be available if you need to finalise for customisation,” As she speaks, you frown at Sylus smoothing out his sexual ruffles — leaving you on your knees.

“Perfect,” Sylus announces, observing you pout — a little annoyed at him simply staring.

“A little help here?” Completely pulverised, you croakily speak. Large specks of cum rest upon your face and within your styled hair.

“Sure, but I’ll be sure to fulfil my half of the deal,” Softly informing you, Sylus gently lifts you, “Once we get back to my home.” Amused by the degrading sexual look you wear, Sylus admires you — mellow.

He wasn’t done with you, yet. 1/3.

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Could you write about being fingered by Ford? The idea is just rather titillating.

A/n: 10/10! Love this idea! I apologize if this sucks.

Ford had the date all planed out.

Cook you your favorite meal✓

Go for a nice little hike✓

Then finish the night off watching a meteor shower and some star gazing.

He honestly had no clue how it lead to this, you a whimpering mess on his lap, Ford's calloused hands caressed your thighs with reverence, his touch igniting delicious sparks of pleasure within you. He gazed upon you with unbridled desire, hungry to bring you the delightful fulfillment you craved.

Lowering his head, Ford nuzzled the sensitive skin of you neck, his stubble grazing your delicate flesh. A low, rumbling growl escaped his lips as he felt her part her legs further, silently begging him to take you.

"Patience, darlin'," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. Slowly, tantalizingly, his calloused fingertips trailed up your inner thighs, inching ever closer to your most intimate place. He relished the way your breath hitched, the way your body instinctively arched toward his touch.

Finally, he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of your skirt, caressing the silky heat he found there. Your muscles clenched around him as he stroked your slick folds, sending jolts of ecstasy racing through you. Ford swallowed your soft moans with a searing kiss, determined to savor every delicious sound you made.

"That's it, love'," he growled against your lips. "Let me hear how good I make you feel..."

Ford's calloused digits worked skilled magic, coaxing breathless whimpers from your lips as you rode his fingers,a gasp leaving you as the man slipped another finger in your warmth, his sixth finger slowly rubbing your clit. He drank in the sight of your flushed, rapturous expression, his own pulse thundering with unbridled desire.

Lowering his head, Ford nuzzled the delicate curve of your neck, his stubbly jaw grazing her soft skin, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. A rumbling growl of approval vibrated in his chest as he felt you clench needily around his plunging fingers.

"That's it, love'," he rasped, voice thick with lust. "Let it all out for me." His thumb brushed your swollen pearl in a maddening rhythm, coaxing ever more delicious sounds from your trembling lips.

Ford's free hand slid up to caress your cheek, guiding your face back to his. He captured your mouth in a searing, possessive kiss, swallowing your cries of bliss. He wanted to savor every last shudder, every spasm of pleasure that wracked your body.

Letting out a whine against his lips, your fingers clutched his tie as you rode his fingers. A shudder running down your spine as you felt your impending orgasm.Ford groaned in pure satisfaction as your slick walls clenched rhythmically around his plunging fingers. He swallowed your cries of bliss with a searing kiss, determined to prolong your ecstasy for as long as possible. His calloused palm cupped your cheek tenderly, his thumb caressing the soft, flushed skin.

The sight of your rapturous expression, the feeling of you trembling in his arms, ignited a primal hunger within him. He wanted nothing more than to worship every inch of your supple body, to explore your most intimate places until you were utterly spent.

Slowing the pace of his ministrations, Ford peppered your neck with reverent kisses, murmuring words of praise and adoration against your skin. His touch was equal parts soothing and sensual, coaxing the last tremors of your from your quivering form as your orgasm hit you.

" You're so goddamn perfect..."

Ford tenderly gathered you into his embrace, his calloused fingers caressing your flushed, quivering form. A satisfied rumble rose from his chest as he felt the last tremors of your climax shudder through you.

Pressing featherlight kisses along your temple, he murmured words of praise and adoration, reveling in the way you melted against him. Ford knew he would never tire of seeing you like this - utterly spent and happy in his arms.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand, gently trailing his fingertips along your sensitive flesh. He chuckled lowly as you shivered at his touch, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of pride and possession.

Cradling you close, Ford peppered your face with tender kisses, his rough stubble grazing your soft skin as you let out a small but tired giggle.

"You were absolutely perfect, darlin'." His fingers caressed your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Ford's eyes gleamed with unbridled adoration, his heart brimming with the knowledge that he had pleased her so.

You were his, and he'd make damn sure you never forgot it.