#cock trauma cw

[amorremanet]

well, speaking as a lesbian who hasn’t actually finished watching cql, no. you’re wrong. lu enjie being beautiful has nothing to do with my meowmeowification of jiaojiao

it’s like 15% thinking she’s an underutilized character who gets unfairly reduced to the closest convenient tropes bc mxtx handed her some interesting traits but didn’t actually care about her that much outside of how she helps to advance the plot, 15% how she fits into the larger narrative picture of how mdzs discusses and wrestles with issues of classism and how We Live In A Society has fundamentally different meanings and ramifications for any given character based on the circumstances of their birth, 5% finding her stupid malapropisms ridiculously charming, 5% wishing she would’ve bit wen chao’s dick off without being influenced by wwx’s bullshit because i think jiaojiao deserves to do violence to wen chao i think it would be very sexy of her, and 60% wanting donghua jiaojiao to smother me with her bountiful titties

anyway thank u for asking, person in the tags of a post i didn’t write or agree with! i adore my poor little jiaojiao, she has done everything wrong ever in her life and i love that for her 🥰🥰🥰

[d10nyx]

don't hold your breath(nobody's home)

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, uncle-niece incest, non-con, loss of virginity, very minor blood description, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism from leon ofc, reader gets slapped, age gap, guilt, one threat, fingering, p in v, non-consensual creampie, crying, idk leon feels entitled cause his brother sucks, reader hinted at having nice tits idk

a/n: sorry if this sucks ass... my motivation for writing has been non-existent w real life stuff n all the drama so... i feel like this is awful but here we are. title from razzmatazz by idkhbtfm... not proofread i'm sorry </3

word count: 1.9k words

Leon knew he had a drinking problem. He just hadn't realised it had gotten this bad. He couldn't even get his dick up with viagra anymore. He frowns as he looks down at the brunette he was planning to fuck, tempted to try and just push it in soft.

He ends up just kicking her out to drown his sorrows. He wasn't dealing with this shit tonight, not when he was seeing his asshole brother tomorrow. Pretty wife, perfect kids. His job pays better than Leon's ever will, and he didn't need to undergo years of trauma. Lucky bastard.

Leon does what he does best that night and drinks enough whiskey so he can pass out without worrying about the nightmares coming to ruin his night. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He hasn't seen you in a good six years. You were still playing with dolls and shit when he last visited. Makes him feel stupid when he brings you a plushie as a gift. Clearly he forgot how time worked, cause he still expected you to be thirteen. You still hug him and say thank you, sweet as ever. When his brother said he'd be watching the house and looking after you, he didn't expect to see you so... grown. Too old to need a babysitter, really. Even if your parents are gonna be gone for a week.

He gulps as his hands settle on your hips, trying to prevent you from pressing against his hardening cock. Down boy. At least his dick still works. It just took his college-aged niece to get it up. Doesn't help that you've got your tits smooshed against his chest.

Therapy was gonna be a doozy this week.

He could only pray that this doesn't turn into anything. The last thing he needed was his dick being the thing that got him thrown into prison for doing something stupid to you, no matter how cute that body of yours is. That's a new one, he thinks, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about touching you like that. He'd never do it, of course. That's sick, and he knows it. He's just so frustrated. And you're hot. A total babe. Somehow, you managed to get a better rack than your mom. Must be the Kennedy genes coming in. Leon's got tits for days.

He knew he had a drinking problem, but he never thought he'd lose himself this much. He never thought about hurting anyone. He's not a bad guy. It's just that every time he tried to be with someone, he just couldn't get his body to react the way he wanted. That's what the oxytocin was for, he thought, already thinking about taking a swig of whiskey from the flask in his pocket. If only that fucking stuff worked on him. The part of his brain that controlled his cock seemed to be permanently on vacation, and his wires clearly got crossed somewhere if he wants to fuck his own blood.

Whatever. He could get through a week alone with his niece without any trouble. He's faced worse monsters than the ones making themselves present in his mind right now. He'd keep his distance, and all would be okay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That didn't work. Of course it didn't. You were just as clingy with him as you were when you were a kid, following him around like a lost puppy. He's convinced he's clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand hard enough to shatter it as you curl up against his side. His cock is throbbing, and he seriously hopes you don't notice how the fabric of his jeans is getting a little strained.

You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you.

Fuck this.

He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.

“Leon… Leon, what're you doing?” You force out, small hands pressing at his chest as if you'd be able to knock him off. Cute. He'd fought creatures six times your size. You didn't stand a chance. 

He starts undressing you, and you start writhing and crying, hitting his chest with clenched fists. He swallows the lump that builds in his throat, wiping the tears that fall down your cheeks.

“Shh… it's okay, I'm… I'm gonna take care ‘f you.” He murmurs, his voice slightly slurred from how much he'd drunk. You cry even harder when he presses a finger into you, making the guilt rise up faster in him. That's not fair. He's being nice. God didn't bless him with much, but at least he gave him a fat cock. You should feel lucky he's prepping you. Not making him feel bad.

“Hey.” He warns, shoving another finger in just to shut you up. You finch when he scissors you open. Poor thing. “That's enough. One more complaint for you, and I'll just force myself in.”

Shit. Now he really does feel like a monster. He's not drunk enough to handle the pure terror on your face at his words. He fumbles on the coffee table with his free hand as he lazily pumps into you with the other. Glass? No. Bottle.

Maybe you need some, too. Get you nice and pliant so you'll take his dick without bitching. Not a bad idea. He twists the cap off with his teeth, gulping some of the liquid down himself. He takes another mouthful before leaning down to kiss you, spitting the liquid into the back of your throat. He keeps your mouth on yours even as you try to jerk away, making sure you swallow it.

You really are adorable as you start coughing and spluttering. Such a sweet thing, you probably hadn't even drunk before. He lifts the bottle to your mouth, pouring some more into your mouth before setting it down, covering your mouth. “Swallow.”

He starts thumbing at your clit as he fingers you, relishing in the ways your whimpers turn into soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand. He manages to coax an orgasm out of you with a few more touches, a big smile spreading across his face.

“There we go, sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” He coos, unbuttoning his jeans. The sound of the zipper has your eyes widening in horror, and he tuts softly. “What're you giving me that look for? It's your turn to take care of me now.”

There goes the begging and pleading again. It has his brows pinching together as a frown tugs at his lips. You really are his brother's kid. So goddamn ungrateful. He just took care of you, and now you just want him to… what? Fist his dick in the guest room?

He smacks you so hard your head snaps to the side, your breaths coming out in short gasps. You look better like that, tears stinging your eyes but your body completely limp. He can see the fight draining out of your eyes.

“I was gonna be nice.” He mumbles, brows furrowing as he lines his tip up with your entrance, forcing himself inside in one thrust. He groans loudly, shuddering as your tight heat envelops him. His eyes look down, locked onto your cunt as he fucks into you with long strokes. He freezes when he notices blood. He's not sure if he's happy or disgusted that he's your first. No wonder you put up such a fight.

You keep weakly begging him to stop, but your pussy is gushing all over him. It's not his fault he can't stop – you're giving him the hottest look he's ever seen, and your puffy cunt is so fucking greedy for his cock, sucking him back in everytime he starts to pull out.

“S-sorry… I'm so sorry…” He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts, groaning at the sound of your punched out moans as he drives into you with as much force as he can muster. You almost sound like you're enjoying it, but you're still fucking crying and he can't take it. His heart hurts.

“Baby, please…” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the betrayal on your face. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, sloppily fucking into you. “I'm sorry… just stop cryin’, please…”

Every time his hips smack the fat of your ass, you're moaning out a ‘please’. With his eyes shut, he can pretend you're begging for more. That you like this. That is, until you start saying ‘stop’. He winces, but the movement of his hips doesn't falter.

“Fuck, baby… please stop begging.” He pleads, throwing his head back as his tip kisses your cervix. He whimpers as it makes you tighten around him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot each time he fully sheaths himself inside of you.

“I-I can't stop…you feel so… fuck. So fucking good. M'so close.” He groans. He can't even find the strength to pull out anymore. He buries himself balls deep in your cunt, grinding himself into your tight heat.

“L-Leon… please.” You say weakly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as panic sets in, your hands pushing at his chest. “Y-you gotta pull out, you can't… you can't.”

“What?” He breathes out, cracking his eyes open to look at you again. He looks genuinely confused. Why would he ever pull out when you felt so good? He can't bring himself to. “Baby, no. I'm cumming inside of you. Can't pull out now.”

That seems to bring your fight back. You start struggling under him again, punching him with all your strength. Luckily, that's not a lot. Especially when you're sluggish from your first time drinking and getting fucked. It's Leon's lucky day.

“Shit, baby. Don't look at me like that.” Or do. He's gonna cum if you keep staring up at him with that wide-eyed expression. “No need to be so scared, princess. I just… shit. Can't help myself.”

Doesn't take longer than a minute after that for him to finish. He buries his face in your neck, whining as he cums. His cock kicks inside of you, the warmth of his release filling every inch of you. You start sobbing all over again, slumping weakly against the couch.

He lies on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the couch. He pets your hair like you're a doll, his fingers carding through your hair.

“I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. I'll be so good. Do whatever you want. Didn't mean it.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek over and over as if he's trying to get you to relax. He keeps it up until you fall asleep, wrapping you up in his arms.

When you wake up in the morning, you're fully dressed in your bed. You almost think it's a dream until you feel the dull throbbing between your legs.

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: post sex scenario-ish, nikto x fem implied! reader, drunken sex implied, idk what else. might marry this man

The worst part was after the sex. Your memories of last night were probably a blur. And for Nikto, well, he'd never let himself be so vulnerable as to forget a night spent with something as sweet as you. When you had first approached Nikto, he wondered if you realized how hideous and ravaged he was.​

Didn't have the time to pull his face mask up when you trotted over, begging for a night with him. He wondered if sober you, the one buried against his sternum, would remember the rough texture of his countless scars, of the mutilated bits of his body - if you would wake up with fear, screaming for him to get out.

Yet you never gave him the chance to cower - hide away his trauma branded flesh. Somehow your grip so strong, fingers curled into his own. A python-like death grip wrapped around his left leg with both of yours. Naked. His shirt.

Oh fuck.

Realization was really hitting when he felt your soft, elongated sigh against his jaw, lips rubbing the scarred texture of his skin. The fascinating texture you couldn't get your cold fingers off of last night, even when he let you flip positions, in hopes it would lessen this touchy, needy state of yours. Nikto only achieved the opposite. You grasped at his fingers for support, hips rolling as you whimpered, letting him muffle your explicit sounds with his finger tips pressing to your lips, mesmerized by how effortlessly soft your skin was.

He was staring at you like he loved you.

And maybe you were just really drunk, lost by the feeling of his cock bruising your pretty cunt just to break entrance; followed by far too many orgasms to clear through the spilled word dictionaries in your brain. Whatever it was, you drew to a reckless conclusion. You slurred a kiss into his palm, whispering how much you loved him. A soft prayer he would stay until you woke up because he was just “so fucking hot” and you “wanted to make out with him again.”

Didn’t even fight back when he just shushed you and hid your face in his chest, desperate to not let you feel the boiling heat that surfaced in his face.

Too much for an exhausted man like himself. Couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, relishing in your sweet scent with the hint of smoke from the incense you burned. Smoke used to terrify Nikto, remind him of harsher times. Would make his heart throb and his body tremble - and yet the scent from you made him want to trace the vertebrae of your spine until you swatted at him like a small, feral cat.

The rigid sensation his dry fingertips mapped made the loud thoughts in his head blur away - even if just momentarily. The several voices which once ran rampant and rebellious within his darkest mind caverns had finally slowed. A single thought running through his mind as he curled the soft locks of your hair between his finger tips, tightening the grip and watching it feather down.

"How soft."

Not realizing Nikto had spoken his thoughts aloud, he was genuinely surprised when you finally stirred awake, a curious gaze in your eyes and a groggy "mhm?" making it's way out of your sigh. Poor man, cuddling you like you had his family in a room downstairs, eyes wide with fright, and his heart beat picked up pace. It surprised you, confused you, yet you just did your best not to scare the wild man that bubbled in his mind.

Buried your face back into his chest, kissing against his soft muscle. Biting a soft, pink hickey that flushed easily and licking away your own drool. Eyes glancing up from behind your lashes as you felt his body settle just a bit. Maybe if you were a little less in love with the big muscles and puppy, blue eyes, you would've taken his secure tighten around your body as a sign that he was about to dedicate his entire life to you. But you didn't - just let your eyes flutter shut and let your head plop back between his muscled breasts.

tagging friends :)) @yandere-kokeshi @kettlemouse @babybimbo777

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i'm not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw's/cw's & i'll be happy to share those!

a/n: it's been a hot, hot minute since i've had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children's hospital), but i've been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i'd at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i'm nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

creampie + breeding kink — he’s a family man & lord knows how badly he wants his own. he’s possessive, too, & this sates both of those desires well for him.  he’s always whispering something in your ear, hand low on your belly about how good you’d look carrying his babies. and once you’re actually pregnant? sweet jesus, he’s never taking his hands off of you.

shower sex — he’s talked a number of times about how he’ll shower multiple times a day, and something tells me he’d never object to a partner. more than once he’s had you against the tiled walls until the water ran cold and your teeth were chattering.  he’d then proceed to take it upon himself to warm you up again, ever the gentleman.

post-workout sex — there’s something about the way you look, out of breath & drenched in sweat that sends all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. you’re trying to push him away, afraid that you’re just too gross, but this man does not give a single fuck.  he adores you in all your sweaty, sticky glory & is on you the second you make it back from your class, peeling you out of your leggings and wrangling your too-tight sports bra over your head.  and it goes the other way as well: his favorite workout cooldown is fucking you senseless; there’s something deeply primal about the exertion of a workout that clouds his head with only thoughts of you, out of breath & on the brink of orgasm.

minor kinks | hair pulling — rough sex — cockwarming — pussy worship — possessiveness — soft dom — teasing — dirty talk

praise kink — he’s a talker in bed, and that means that he’s telling you just how delicious the tight clutch of your velvet walls feels around his cock. one language is not enough to tell you all the ways you make him feel, how good you are, how badly he’s wanted you. it certainly doesn’t hurt when you reciprocate, but the sounds he’s able to work out of you are often enough for him.

vanilla sex — listen: it’s no secret that this man is a romantic, and there are few things as romantic as good ole vanilla sex. sure, some spice is nice every once in a while, but he doesn’t need it to get his rocks off. he’s too caught up in the romance of it all—the tangle of limbs, skin pressed against skin, stuttering breaths, and stammering hearts—to want anything else.  all he needs is you.

kissing — similar as above, charles is a sucker for romance, and a good makeout sess is just the right thing to get him hot and bothered.  he’s very talented with languages, and his mastery of his tongue doesn’t end with words. *wink wink*

minor kinks | oral sex (giving + receiving) — creampie — cowgirl — bathtub sex — breathplay

mutually drunk sex — no matter how much he loves a club scene, he’d always find himself back in your arms.  happy, sloppy, messy sex. as much as he loves a g&t, he loves the taste of you more.

wax play — we’ve seen the clips. he likes dripping the wax just as much as he likes being dripped on, and every time you go to light a candle his eyes get that hungry look like he could devour you whole; you’ve learned how to use this to your advantage.

dirty talk + praise kink — as we all know, this man is a certified YAPPER. and, unsurprisingly, that extends to the bedroom, too.  always groaning, grunting, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, there’s very little that leaves him truly speechless; you’ll always know exactly how he feels when you're riding his cock or taking him deep in your throat, whether that’s in dutch, english, or the french he’s been trying to practice. and, given his upbringing, he lives for the praises that fall past your lips; he aims to please, and your sweet words are all the motivation he needs.

minor kinks | restraints (giving + receiving) — spanking — threesomes — nipple play — sensory play

massage — he takes great pride in his physique, and he thinks every inch of you is perfect.  he loves watching all the tension leave your body. with such limited time in his busy, busy life, he thrives on the time he gets to spend with you; few things can compete with the peace, intimacy, and pleasure that comes from the feeling of your hands working over the tight muscles of his back and legs. and if they happen to wander somewhere else? well, what a happy accident that would be!

fingering — if there’s one thing lewis knows, it’s that a man’s most important tool isn’t the one between his legs.  he loves all the ways in which you unravel for him, your back pressed against his chest with your legs draped over his own to keep them open.  he’ll play with you like that for hours if he could, unlacing your composure until you're boneless and melting into him with every touch. (also, dear god, have you seen his hands? female gaze bait of the highest form.)

the lingerie stays on — there’s a litany of pick-up lines about clothes, etc. looking good on you but better on their floor, and a one mr. hamilton disagrees with that sentiment; we know well how he appreciates fine garments, and he loves them even more when you’re wearing them.  he’s most certainly one to spoil his partner, and if he’s going to buy you that agent provocateur set, you can bet he wants to see you in it.

minor kinks | soft dom — cowgirl — voyeurism — intimacy — dirty talk — shower sex — pillowtalk

face riding — why do you think he takes so much pride in his neck strength? and even when you’re squirming away from overstimulation, he’s more than able to hold you in place by hooking his toned biceps over your shaking thighs. he’s a menace, but he never leaves a partner wanting for more.

wearing his clothes — okay, this one isn’t original in the slightest because i simply cannot get this blurb by @folkloresthings out of my head.  nando would keel over at the sight of you in his clothes, especially if there was a particular lack of certain undergarments. he’d pull you in by the excess material and have you right there if feasible.

anal sex — all the nando fuckers know that he’s a little freaky—can i get an amen? that being said, his experience goes a long way in helping his partner get the most out of it and making it a pleasurable experience for all parties. he’d take his time working you open, pairing it with leg-shaking orgasms to wash away any doubts in your mind. it’s a new sensation, but a welcome one at that.

minor kinks | swallowing / facials — teasing — spanking — rough sex — sloppy sex — aftercare

teasing — a tyrant on the track and one in the bedroom as well. or in the car. or at a dinner with a few too many pairs of eyes. regardless, being a tease is his favorite above all else despite his own inability to handle a healthy dose of his own medicine. 

overstimulation — this more or less goes hand-in-hand with his teasing, but he loves the way you beg when you’re coming down from one high and coasting right into another. “just one more, liebling” or “you’ve got another one, don’t you, schatz?” or “i know you can take it, kleiner hase” before making your vision go white as he wrings another orgasm from you.

morning sex — but, above all else, sebastian is a lover, and few things are quite as intimate as slow, fumbling, half-awake morning sex where you’re mumbling praises and communicating in soft, hushed sounds of pleasure. chasing sensations and desires before your mind is even fully awake takes a strong, trusting bond, and he prides himself on this with his partner.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — mutual masturbation — toys — soft restraints (giving + receiving) — creampie / breeding — praise kink — dirty talk

cowgirl — this man & his mobsession w/ texas—need i say more? how does that saying go, again? “save a horse…”

photos/sextape — daniel3.jpg would like a word.  he’s obsessed with this new medium, and what’s a better way to remember a spicy moment than on film? plus, when you’re traveling 200-plus days a year, you need a way to bring a piece of home with you however you can, whether that’s watching you fall apart while arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight or taking him into the back of your throat as you look up at him through damp lashes or riding his cock or or arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight…you get the picture.

threesomes — considering the way that everyone fawns over him on the grid, this man could so easily work himself into some surprising pairings. his love language is physical touch and he’s not afraid to share it. that, combined with his competitiveness and desire to please, turns into a dangerous desire for him to see you fucked out and overwhelmed by your own need for more.

minor kinks | mirror sex — dirty talk — thigh riding — facefucking — rough sex — hair pulling

rough sex — aussie grit. there’s nothing else i need to say other than he’s a wild ride.

aftercare — any rough lover worth their prowess, though, knows the importance of aftercare, and mark is no different in that regard.  he takes it very seriously and is always checking in afterward to make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, peppering you in sweet kisses and warm embraces.

pussy worship — we’ve all seen the clip, right? this man knows how to eat pussy and he’s damn good at it. better yet—he loves doing it. you’d practically have to pry him off you from the overstimulation, his tongue, lips, and teeth finding alllll the right ways to make you fall apart.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — possessiveness — massage — swallowing / facials

exhibitionism + voyeurism — the grid slag. he’s confident about his body and his abilities, and he’s not afraid to share. he’s not overly possessive and an unabashed hedonist to boot, so this pairing works perfectly to get his rocks off (and hopefully yours, too). he’s a little freak, and he’s not afraid to let it show!

spanking — when you’re especially mouthy (frequently to get these exact reactions) and he’s a little bold, jenson is partial to taking you over his knee and seeing how long you can keep up the act before you’re a whimpering mess. frequently this ends with him literally kissing your ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping cunt while another toys with your too-sensitive clit.

brattiness — again, like above, he loves when you backtalk or drag your heels on him, making him work for your pleasure and, on some nights, your submission. (though, he’s not afraid to admit how fucking hot he finds it when you take control, using him for your pleasure and taking what you need. all that matters to him is raw, messy, dirty fun.)

minor kinks | threesomes — begging — degradation kink (giving + receiving) — nipple play — oral sex (giving + receiving) — toys

final note: that's all, folks! now what do you think? let me know! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes​ where i reblog inspo & recs!

[konigsblog]

When do you think simon started fantasizing about rape?

Like i was thinking it started when he joined TF141 and by that time he was already disturbed

He probably had a porn addiction too, but maybe it all started sinking in when he first saw reader, a delicate flower, too good for this world, and that almost made him annoyed

tw/cw; abusive tendencies, rape. 18+

simon has always had the urge to abuse someone.

he never dealt with his trauma in an appropriate and sensible way. he never attended therapy or even bothered with it, claiming that it was nothing but a waste of his time. because of this, his trauma manifested into a porn addiction, which began to desensitise him, and the military only worsened it.

joining the military had only intensified his urge to go out and have his way with someone. all he craved was control and power, to never feel weak and defenceless under anyone ever again. simon thought that if he went out and raped someone, it would show how powerful he was, how easy it was for him to fight back and retort.

using porn as a coping mechanism didn't help whatsoever, not one bit. he watched violent, graphic porn until it no longer satisfied his needs. what simon needed was rape meat, a toy for his own sexual satisfaction and frustration.

you were sitting alone at a bar, looking intoxicated with the smell of booze noticeable and distinctive. you couldn't miss the smell or the confused expression plastered on your face and the way you stumbled out of the bar, forced to leave because you were too drunk to serve. it was a perfect opportunity for simon who pushed you down into a field of grass, your face forced into the ground while simon began to rip your clothes off mercilessly while you squirmed and begged for your life. you shook violently as simon pressed a knife against your throat, forced to accept whatever simon offered your sweet, little pussy.

he'd rape you for hours, enjoying the time he had with you before it was gone. simon knew this wouldn't last forever, so he'd rape your slick cunt until the sun began to rise over the horizon, until you were unconscious and limp in his arms from the stretch and constant pain, with crimson red liquid coating your thighs and his lengthy, fat cock.

he thought that after this, he'd never do it again, that it was a one-off for him to release the undeniable and irresistible urge burning inside of him.

although, the satisfaction he felt lingered, slowly fading away after a couple days without raping an innocent civilian. perhaps simon will begin to rape his enemies while they were alive, before blowing their brains out, leaving them bloodied with a gunshot piercing their skull, or maybe he'd stalk you like prey, waiting for the moment to capture you for himself.

[brain-rot-central]

Home

Rating: E, but a soft E Pairing: Spawn!A/Fem!Tav CW: 18+, dry humping, breeding kink, non-penetrative sex, trauma mention, intimacy issues, soft Astarion (emotionally, not physically), possessive Astarion, verbalized consent Word count: 1.9k Summary: Astarion and Tav have resumed being intimate, though sometimes, Astarion can't quite commit to the full act. Not to worry, there are still other activities to enjoy!

They barely make it up the stairs of the Elfsong Tavern and back into their rented suite.

Articles of clothing come peeling off in a flash as soon as the door clicks shut behind them. With the elf’s deft hands, the lock is sealed, now steering the couple back toward the bed. 

His human partner’s knees bump against the edge of the bed, and both bodies are suddenly toppling over onto the sea of silken sheets adorning the mattress below.

The human’s legs instinctively bend at the knee as the elf slots himself between them, grinding himself down into her warm, inviting center. He lowers his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that speaks to the depths of his lust.

Teasing his tongue into her mouth, his rutting grows more heated and desperate. The woman moans softly against his mouth, inviting his tongue to a dance as hands find purchase in the silver curls atop his head.

Bare from the waist up, they continue grinding, the human hooking her ankles around the small of the man's back for leverage. He groans in response to the added friction, cock now straining against the front of his pants.

Physical intimacy is still something they’re easing back into, though tonight it’s taken a leap into new territory.

The elf breaks the kiss as he pushes himself up onto his hands, saying, “Scoot a bit higher, Tav, darling. I need more leverage for what I have planned for us.”

A shiver runs across Tav’s body, and she nods her head in agreement. She unlocks her ankles from around his hips and drags herself back until she’s in the center of the bed. 

He follows close behind, bringing himself up onto his knees between her splayed thighs. His arms wrap around the underside of her thighs.

Tav moans again as he sinks his fingertips into the clothed flesh, pulling her roughly against his crotch. She can feel the evidence of his desire with every roll of his hips into her center, a familiar heat and pulling sensation filling her abdomen with every press of his clothed length against her.

“These need to come off,” the elf growls out, and within seconds his fingers hook into the waistband of her trousers. Pulling them down her wide hips and off her legs, he throws them across the room to join the pile of previously discarded clothing, promptly returning to his place between her legs.

She’s left in just her underwear, bearing a deep wet spot at its center on full display. A rich, ruby blush sits high across her face as she watches her partner survey her clothed sex. She feels exposed like this, and yet, incredibly fulfilled. She knows the effect her body is having on him, as well.

The pale elf growls in anticipation above her as his hands make quick work of undoing the laces of his own leathers. He slips a hand down the front of his pants, a soft sigh escaping his lips, eyes rolling closed for a brief moment as his hand wraps around his erection. He adjusts his length, now laying up against his abdomen, and groans as he unwillingly peels his hand away.

Tav’s eyes fall upon the bulge now straining against the undone laces of his pants. A small dark spot can be seen on his underclothes, where the head of his cock lay hidden.

“Can I touch you, Astarion?” she asks, shyly. Her hands begin to trace the outline of his biceps, gently stroking his skin with the tips of her fingers.

Astarion hums, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips before replying, “Oh? Where exactly do you have in mind?”

Tav meets his gaze, eyes traveling between his and the spot between his legs, raising an eyebrow in silent question. 

The elf huffs, sitting up on his knees. He narrows his eyes, looking at her from under his lashes. “Cheeky pup,” he purrs, “at least offer some assistance first.”

Her cheeks burn at his bold invitation and she rises from her position on the bed, placing one finger on his sculpted chest. 

Astarion's eyes look to the single digit pressed into the center of his chest, rising and falling with the uptick of his breathing. He allows Tav to begin pushing him back to the edge of the bed. He stands up off the bed, his crotch now at level with her hands.

Tav hooks her fingers into the hem of his leathers, tugging them down his toned thighs until they pool on the floor around his ankles. Astarion kicks them briskly to the side to join the other articles of clothing littered about the room.

“Are you okay?” she asks. She knows the challenge that physical intimacy imposes on him. She wants reassurance that he’s still comfortable, still willing to continue.

“Quite,” he replies, voice husky, watching her finger trail down toward his underwear. His undergarments do little to conceal the outline of his cock, her finger settling on the small wet patch gathering right at the tip of him. Laying her palm against his clothed shaft, he sucks in a sharp breath as she squeezes him gently.

With genuine concern, Tav inquires, “How far can we go?”

Hips twitching into her touch, he answers, “T-this. This is, aahh, good.”

She smiles before asking, “Can I ride you?”

Entire body seizing under her touch, he moans, loud and uncaring as to who might hear. “Fuck, darling,” Astarion huffs out, hips bucking involuntarily. “There is nothing I'd like more.”

Tav’s gives him a few more pumps along his length. “You should lay down, then,” she states.

He nods, cautiously climbing onto the bed. She gives him space to make himself comfortable, which doesn't fall unnoticed.

Suddenly, he feels small, anxious - his stomach churns as she climbs over his hips to settle herself in his lap. He's slept with countless others in the past, including her. Why feel this way now?

Because this is Tav, Astarion tells himself. 

Something about this being with her makes it… different. 

She's careful not to apply much pressure too soon, testing the waters as she sinks down onto his lap.

The elf hisses as her clothed center envelopes his covered cock, biting his lip to stifle his moan. His hands find purchase atop her thighs, keeping her steady.

“Is this okay, Astarion? Please, tell me,” Tav says, beginning to grind slowly against him.

Astarion's mind is a battlefield, filled with shame, lust, disgust, desire, but above all, love. 

He loves this woman. He's known this for quite some time, though too afraid to admit it.

Love has always meant pain. Attachment meant control.

But, with Tav…

Love is safe. Attachment is freedom.

Free, and safe, to be his own person. To live life for himself.

“I'm okay, dear,” he affirms, holding the hands she has over his chest. “I'm still here.”

Tav smiles down at him as she grinds over the length of him again, bending over to capture his lips in a chaste kiss. “Good,” she tells him, “I really like when you're here.”

Astarion tangles a hand in her hair, holding her close. She relaxes under him as he rolls his hips up against her core, a moan escaping his lips.

“I- I want-” he chokes out between broken moans.

Tav hums softly against his ear before asking, “Want what, Astarion? Tell me.”

“I… I want to come inside you,” he tells her, punctuating his statement with another thrust of his hips.

She moans against his ear, meeting his thrusts with her own. “...Right now?” Tav asks.

“N-no,” he admits, “not now. Eventually.” His other arm wraps around the middle of her back, holding her tighter to his chest. The pleasure begins to coil like a spring, tighter and tighter, eyes falling closed as his head falls back against the pillow.

“I… I want to feel you around me as I fill you.” Astarion opens his eyes, turning his head to meet her gaze through heavy lids. “...I think about it often,” he further admits.

Tav giggles, grinding down harder before saying in a sultry voice, “That can get me pregnant, you know.”

Eyes closing again, Astarion groans, hips bucking against her core. “I don't care,” he growls out. “I would show you off to the entire world, everyone knowing what we've done.”

“You want to knock me up, Astarion?” Tav asks, more in acknowledgement than in question.

“Fuck, darling, yes,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

Tav pushes herself upright in his lap, bending back to brace herself on his thighs. “Would you still fuck me, Astarion?” she questions, continuing their prior rhythm.

“What a silly question,” he replies, placing a hand on her lower abdomen. “I would lavish every change of your body as it swells with my child.”

Humming, Tav tosses her head back, losing herself as he bucks up into her from below. Her own arousal is quickly mounting, threatening to spill over. 

“Lucky for you,” she tells him, her voice strained, “I, too, wish the same.”

Tav feels his cock twitch under her as she confesses. The waistband of his underwear has slipped under his glans from their activities, pre-cum starting to pool against his lower abdomen. 

“But,” she adds, breathily, “only when you're ready for it.”

Astarion’s hands quickly drag her back down over him, and she holds her arms out just in time to brace herself above him. His hips buck up into her heated center as he holds her face, bringing their lips together with a throaty groan.

“Gods, I love you,” he tells her, breaking the kiss momentarily. He tugs at her bottom lip with blunted teeth before capturing her lips again, their tongues intertwining.

They find a rhythm to their seemingly ceaseless rutting, breaths hitching. They're panting now, hard, Tav running her hands through silver curls as she nears completion.

“Astarion, I’m almost there,” she pants against his neck.

His arms wrap around her lower back as he brings his face to her ear. “Tell me what you need, darling,” he purrs, nipping at her earlobe with a fang.

“My… my neck,” Tav says. “K-kiss my neck, please. Your favorite spot…”

Astarion's lips descend upon her neck, suckling at his usual spot. He's fed from this particular spot enough that she's beginning to develop scars - the same scars that he himself bears.

She's given so much to him, he realizes. Her blood, her body, her trust. Never once has she doubted him, even if it was the more reasonable thing to do.

Astarion teases her skin with his fangs, applying enough pressure to feel like he's going to bite, without actually piercing. Tav’s body shakes above him.

“Gods, fuck, Astarion-!” Tav cries, toppling over the ledge. Her hips grind messily over his crotch. He quickly follows her, ropes of his spend shooting between their stomachs as they lay pressed together, mouths agape as they drift softly down from their high.

Astarion groans softly against her neck, planting soft kisses against her jawline as her hands play idly with his hair.

They lay together for some time before Tav speaks up, “Hey, Astarion?” 

He hums in acknowledgement, giving her the confidence to continue. 

She lifts herself up by her arms, looking into his eyes and she tells him, “I love you, too.”

A relieved smile fills Astarion's face as she settles back against his chest.

Neither mind the mess between them as they continue to lay together, enjoying the genuine peace of co-existing.

I'm finally safe, he reminds himself.

This is home.

[trendywaifus]

WEEK THREE

↳ double trouble

two masters competing and arguing at each other as they fuck you.

transfem! jingliu & skirk x fem! reader

cw: overstimulation, pwp, double penetration, unprotected sex, mind dumbfication, slight blowjob, slight handjob, creampie, size kink

“ who are you to make an assumption about the way i carry myself, blade fodder? “ jingliu growls through gritted teeth, firmly gripping your hair while your lips are wrapped around her cock, sucking her off. skirk rolls her eyes, calmly crossing her arms as your free hand strokes her. “ blade fodder? how laughable. and why so quick to anger? it was merely just an assumption. but, purposely handicapping yourself while waving your sword around seems rather foolish, don’t you think? “ she speaks with a mocking tone, “ hiding behind a mere veil is weak. regardless of whatever trauma you’ve faced in the past, trying to actively avoid it by walking forward blindly is for cowards. “

jingliu spits, “ i should kill you where you stand for that, you—“

“ and hurt the girl in the process? you wouldn’t to do that, no? besides, we agreed on a bet. we’ll fuck her and have her decide who’s better at giving her pleasure. whoever she feel satisfied her the best, is simply better. “ skirk reasons, casting the taller woman a small smirk. jingliu huffs in annoyance, trying her best to not react as your warm tongue brushes against a vein.

jingliu lightly pulls you away and lets go of your hair. “ on your feet, dear. “ she orders softly, in contrast to the aggression she expressed towards skirk a few moments ago. she takes off her blindfold and places it over your eyes, firmly tying the loose ends into a knot. “ wait, why am i—“

“ for the sake of the bet. that’s all you need to know.”(just to avoid bias!)

after a few sounds of shuffling, one of the women lifts you up into her arms with ease, you yelp, hurriedly encircling your legs around her waist. she lines herself with your weeping entrance and slowly sinks you down on her length. you emit a broken moan as she stuffs you full. she grunts as your pussy clenches around her. hands shifts down to the fat of your ass, what felt like claws, slightly digs into your skin.

she holds you steady and snaps her hips forward, spearing you open with her fat cock. “ bounce. “ she whispers lowly in your ear, and you do as you’re told. as she fucks into you with slow, powerful thrusts, you grip her shoulders, trying your best to be in sync with her. due to her sturdy hips, you failed pathetically. the woman sighs in disappointment but says nothing. she speeds up a bit and repeatedly grazing the spongy patches of your walls. “ just like that please. .” you moaned, filthy sounds of squelching fills the air as your slick runs down her shaft and dribbles down onto the floor in thick globs.

her rhythm was so steady and powerful, it was addictive. it made your pussy ache for more no matter how much she stretches you out over and over again. “ more, more. . “ you whined, drool tickling down your chin, already cock–dumb. her breath hitches when she feels your cunt clamp around her again. just for a second, her pace falters before she swiftly recovers and keeps going at her previous pace.

“ what are you doing, you impatient fool? i’m not done with her yet, wait your turn. “ the woman grumbles as another body presses up against your back. “ don’t you hear her begging for more, you bottom dweller? “ the breathy voice, who you now know is jingliu, barks. skirk, who’s currently fucking you, scoffs, grinding her cock into your cunt. “ hmm, i wonder why she’s begging for more, you poor, miserable mortal. you should of kept that blindfold on. “

“ i’m just itching to strike you down with my blade once all of this is over. “ jingliu says harshly, pushing her long length inside your occupied pussy, stretching you out even more than you’d imagine. you mewled loudly, on the verge of squirting everywhere. “ isn’t this a pleasant surprise? she can take two at once. “ skirk mumbles with amusement, fucking you in her own pace while jingliu’s is aimed and fast. “ and yet, she can take mine better. “ jingliu remarks, snarky.

“ simply perish, mortal. “

“ ah, if only it was that easy, you abomination.”

“ extremely ironic coming from you. “

god, you were so out of it. you have two women at each other’s throats while they fucked you dumb. you could tell skirk was getting increasingly frustrated as her thrusts became fast and unforgiving. cacophony of moans spills from your lips, the overwhelming tension in your belly proved unbearable when jingliu matches with skirk’s speed and intensity. your eyes rolls to your back of your head as you violently squirted all over their cocks and made a mess on the floor.

“ how messy. “ skirks comments, not showing signs of slowing down as she’s too busy competing with the opposing swordmaster. “ just like your sorry excuse of an apprentice. “ the sword master hisses, chest panting heavily from your pussy greedily swallowing her cock. “ is your apprentice just as arrogant and weak like you are? did you teach that boy your techniques with a blindfold over your eyes too?” skirk questions sharply, glaring up at the taller woman in front of her.

due to overstimulation, their voices became a blur. after a few minutes of back and forth, jingliu was the first to finish inside you. she continues to fuck your gushing hole despite thick loads of cum flowing out of you. not long after, skirk releases as well and refused to pull out until she was sure completely she was milked dry.

“ now, tell us who was better. choose wisely. “ jingliu whispers in your ear, sounding almost impatient. after a moment without a response, skirk and jingliu was quick to notice how boneless your body felt against theirs. skirk sighs, realizing you passed out. “ it seems like we were too busy arguing, we forgot about this one. “

well, once you wake up, you’ll give them an answer and this time, they’ll focus more on you.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Lazarus (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 2)

"According to tradition, Lazarus never smiled during the thirty years after his resurrection, worried by the sight of unredeemed souls he had seen during his stay in Hell..."

Word count: 5.7 k

Tags and warnings: Angst, fluff, soft smut 🔞. Slightly possessive!Ghost. Graphic depictions of past suicidal thoughts. Dating, kissing, cuddlefucks, emotions (the most daunting cw there is). Unfettered prose about a grown man's complex trauma. Reader is female and works as a medic at the base. Ghost POV.

Summary: You've just started dating Ghost. (This is a standalone sequel to Refugee)

She tastes round and sweet after the tang of blood and smoke and metal of the field. She feels like warm cascading water after the bleak, dead weight of a gun that leaves his hands throbbing with recoil. Her skin returns the memory of Paradise until it overrides everything else.

She's a soft blooming to the senses.

And his have been blown wide, torn apart, shot full of noise. There's an amputated, burnt stump where there should be a limb and some soft skin. But still, a blast that burns flesh from bones is not that different from her soft whisper that has the power to level him like a nuclear wind.

. . .

They're some kind of a secret, although he doesn't know why exactly.

Perhaps because she knows enough by now. She knows he's a dead man.

A ghost.

And women like her don't date apparitions. They deserve more than just bones and a haunting: they deserve flesh and blood and solid ground. She deserves far more than promises he has no power or right to give.

He has no mandate for life. His is a half-life, and stolen; he's living on borrowed time.

She doesn't only protect his phantom, she shields herself from talk and rumors. It's only understandable. He takes everything she gives him, which is more than he deserves.

He fucks her to ruin on the conference table people share in the meetings. He makes her leak all over his desk during quiet afternoon hours of his office; he makes her come on his tongue in the fucking hangar after a long day, just to get the taste of dry desert sand off his mouth.

She stops complaining about propriety after that. After all, she's the one who came there on his call and allowed him to rip her pants down when there was only settling dust to accompany them in the quiet hall.

It doesn't take long to see that the woman's not actually complaining at all. She fucking loves it when he barges in and simply takes her.

And he buries himself inside her like she's the base. His home after a mission, his destined location after deployment. She lets him fuck her practically anywhere except on the floor.

That's his place. And he has no problem with lying down there in the filth, especially if it means he gets to watch how she sits on his cock until that pretty little face distorts with pleasure that looks like pain.

His field pants and navy blues have cum stains after his visits while she cleans herself up in no time, fixes her hair and looks as innocent as ever. His mask smells of cunt when he's trying to concentrate on missions, and the scent of her juice makes him hard while he's supposed to be instilling brass into bodies. He smokes cigarettes just to drive the maddening taste of her from his tongue.

He's gonna get killed one of these days. The irony doesn't escape him: it's not a bullet or a grenade that will take him, but that sweet, hazy memory of her cunt.

She's an obsession. He injects himself full of her like the most pathetic addict.

Until one day, she says it can't continue like this. That it won't do to rut like animals until the smell of mad sex coats the room she's supposed to stitch and staple people in.

It causes a small panic till she asks him to visit her.

In her home.

It sounds serious: it sounds like she wants more than just his cock. And he's fucking terrified.

Women think about whether to wear this dress or that on a date: he thinks about whether to put on the mask or not – he meditates on it for two whole hours. Everything else is clean and in order; he looks like a human and not a soldier. But he can't rid himself of the skeleton.

There's a storm coming when he reaches her place. It electrifies the air until his spine is full of thunder.

She seems surprised – happily so – when she finds him at the door, decent as can be. He gets one of those innocent smiles which are pure sin beneath.

"You came."

"Sure."

She doesn't ask why he's always wearing a mask. She takes what he has to give, which is his all, which he fears will never be enough.

"There's food–"

She lets out a delightful little noise when he picks her up and carries her to what looks like the biggest and softest bed he has ever laid a woman on, ever laid himself on.

So, she likes luxury. Or at least, comfort.

Softness. Hugs… Support.

And kisses, apparently, because his mask is lifted without permission. Not that she needs one.

"Simon, I made you some dinner," she laughs in his mouth, and he's smiling – she's the only one who makes him fucking smile.

"Later," he rasps with a sore throat – he has become soft, too, and it's her fault. He has barked orders all day, but with her, his voice always comes out quiet and calm.

Where her domain at work consists of harsh lights and sterile frigidity, her home is dark and warm like a womb. His senses are filled with lemon and thyme – she has made something he's never tried before, something… Mediterranean, perhaps. A culinary ambrosia for someone who has lived on dog food and tried to thrive on it.

It's a pity that he's a barbarian, and here for dessert. As much as he likes the dainty little thing she has put on just for him, it's not cunning enough to stop him from ripping it to shreds.

She protests at first with a posh little gasp, but then she spreads her legs like it's open season and he's the VIP customer. The laced, pathetic little thing lays in wreckage around all that softness creaming just for him, and his mouth shoots full of water.

The feel of her is better than sinking a knife between two ribs. She's velvet on his scar and coarse stubble and for the first time in his life, he curses the mask. She moans all around him, tries to grab him by the hair still under the black fabric.

And it makes him want to rip it off and let her yank and tug to her heart's content, grab his hair and push his face as deep inside her cunt as it goes.

He tries to fit inside her apartment, a serene space filled with scented candles and clean carpets and frilly little curtains that shift in the restless night wind.

He tries to fit inside her.

The attempt always makes her moan and tremble and sigh. It's hard to focus on the task at hand when he wants to freeze the moment to where her lashes flutter and she stops breathing for a second – when she takes him in with grace and hunger.

"Oh fuck…"

She swears this time, watches with helplessness and an open mouth as his cock slowly disappears inside her. Then she looks up at him like…

Like she's missed him.

"You're a brute," she whispers, eyes shining.

"Thought you liked brutes."

"I made you dinner and you…Ah…"

He arrives home, heavy and loaded with yearning.

First things first.

It has been a week, and there's been no time to relieve the pain, nowhere to go and wank off the sickness that festers inside him every second they're apart. And she's the only one who can cure his disease. But he does feel like a brute for not letting her feed him. When was the last time anyone made him anything?

The sea is booming now, roaring behind the window she has left open. This time, they're not fucking at the base, in some corner of a room with a lock hurriedly latched on. He's fucking her amidst doused lights and a seaside breeze that enters their skin through an open window. He's at the beach, even when there's no sun. The sands are even more stunning with a gathering storm.

He fucks her like a dog, and she looks at him with weak love in her eyes. She's looking up at him with those big, wet eyes like he's the best leader there is - like she's counting on him. Like the people under his command, those who ask for his advice, ask for the next move.

It drives him fucking insane.

It's even better than a good round of sex: that unbound look of adoration. His mask is a poor shield against all that. She slips past it like she's the expert in clandestine warfare here. And suddenly he doesn't want any more secrets. There's a ton of them already; he carries the weight of them in his soul.

He's an underdog, always has been, but he's also a hound for claiming her as his that night.

After he's done fucking her to oblivion, he descends. She comes alive like a jolt of lighting in his arms as he kisses her, then sucks the tender skin of her neck. Everyone's going to see it, he makes sure of that by using the tiniest amount of teeth to finally mark her. She moans an equal amount as she does when she's clenching around his cock.

"Did you just give me a hickey?" She asks, breathless when he's done.

"High time, don't you think," he mutters. The woman will look glorious on the beach and highly improper at work.

Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas…

"You're unbelievable." She only laughs at his obsession. The woman’s not afraid at all, even when she’s face to face with a monster. The sunshine of her smile pairs well with the crackle of thunder outside.

"You want a beer?"

He's too drugged to answer with nothing else than a surprised, drowsy blink. She laughs again and takes it as a yes, which it is. He stares in awe as the woman walks to the fridge, all naked and lax from his treatment, takes out a bottle, opens it, and brings it to him. She takes none for herself; she only serves him like he's some kind of a king. When he takes a sip, she smiles again: lighting flashes somewhere in the distance and gives her an aureole of light, a halo of an angel for a second.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." The wink she gives him makes it perfectly clear that she wouldn't mind him joining her. But as she goes by the mirror, the vision of his claim stops her.

"Simon…"

He gets a scolding, and it only makes the corner of his mouth tug.

"No concealer is going to cover this."

"That's the point," he takes another sip while lying on her too-soft bed. She shakes her head before walking to the shower. The eye of the storm is above him, and everything's silent, like he's lounging on a dream.

The bottle in his hand sweats cold condense in his hand, and like always with her, he finds himself in the present moment. He drinks the beer in less than ten seconds, then takes the mask off and leaves it somewhere among the sweat and cum stained sheets.

It's the first time she has seen him without the shield, the first time she sees his body in full light. Every protrusion of white scar, every part of uneven skin, every marring of two and three stage burns is visible as if he is on a well-lit stage.

"Well. Pleased to meet you."

The smile that greets him, the veil of surprise that draws aside to reveal pure delight and marvel is more than worth the risk. She's frozen in time with a bottle of shower gel in her hands, too preoccupied with the trust he has decided to arm her with. She now has power over him, but he proceeds to do what he came here to do. Which is to make her sing a second time.

"For what do I owe this pleasure–"

The bottle falls on the tiles with a soft plunk as he steps between her legs and lifts her against the wall.

On that, she doesn't only kiss him; she takes the scar of his lip between hers and sucks. The warm water is nothing compared to her hands which sweep up and down his back and release years and years of tension. She whines when he only gives her shallow thrusts, then tries to claw his back to get more of his cock. It makes him chuckle.

"Needy," he comments on such delightful hunger, and she lets out the most annoyed, frustrated noise he has ever heard on her.

"Stop teasing, Riley…"

She tends to use his last name when she's fed up with him. It's supposed to create distance, but it only makes him latch himself onto her more fiercely.

He could torture her, delve deep, dig out even more frustrated sounds from her, but that's a quest for another time. He grants her wish along with his own and slides fully in. She kisses him through the whole fucking, and he feels like he's in boiling water, cooking until the raw meat grows tender and prepared.

And he realizes he's not actually fucking her: he's making love to her. He didn't even know he could do that.

When they've had their fill, the water takes away his gift. It feels wrong that something meant to be inside her leaks down some filthy drain. It's like a testimony, an illustration of his whole life: that his essence, his worth, belong in the sewers.

"You're a beautiful man," she whispers on his skin while caressing his back filled with past torture. His stomach churns, he feels like throwing up and falling asleep at the same time. An odd sensation.

She holds his mutilated corpse under the descending water and breathes life into him. The vomit never comes. He exhales history on her skin, inhales some peace in its stead.

In the morning the sound of thunder has been replaced by myriad birdsong.

. . .

He never meant to bring her here, but the wind on the beach is too harsh today and she's cold. It would be ungentlemanly not to get her a jacket from his apartment when it's only a few hundred meters away.

"To say that this place needs a woman's touch would be an understatement, Riley."

There's little else here but a tv and a fridge. He doesn't need either of them, but they're there to remind him what a home should look like. She takes the deafening silence and barren wasteland well, far better than he ever imagined she would.

"Y'can touch anything you want."

She turns and raises an eyebrow – he already knows that look. He's in for it now.

"Smooth... Very smooth." She walks to him and pushes him to the armchair. Not with force, because she doesn't need it. He falls to the sagged old thing like it's suddenly cloud nine rather than his old deathbed.

He waits for her to climb onto his lap and ride him until the chair breaks under the weight of their love. He could use a new chair anyway.

But she doesn't do that.

She gives her what this place has been missing.

A woman's touch.

Her mouth is hot as hell, wet like the gulfs that used to drown men in the sea centuries ago. She's a siren with her songs, but this time, she's quiet.

The room is not: the deathlike silence is suddenly filled with wet urgency and sloppy sounds of adoration. All his hauntings recede to the shadows like the blowjob is a whole exorcism.

His head falls back, and the first charred moan coats the air like it's been entombed for decades. And it has.

She is encouraged by the sound, and the tongue that sweeps the underside of his cock sends him jolting from his shallow grave.

Jesus fuckin'–

"Fuck…" He tries to blink back tears or death while looking at the crumbling paint on the ceiling. He feels equally worn out on her tongue: old and a lot of work, but a woman's touch is like magic.

"Mm–h." She dares to moan on his cock as if it's the best thing she's had in her mouth in decades, too. She even brushes her fingertips over his balls like they're some newfound treasure. They pull taut under her touch, stupefied by the sudden attention.

He can feel the upcoming blaze. It gathers at the base of his spine, his cock is brick-heavy in her mouth, and she won't stop – fuck, she goes even deeper…

"Fuckin' hell, pet…"

His thighs bunch and spread, a scorching groan erupts like he's a volcano and not a man. That's when she gives his cock a long, torturing suck, and he's gone, there’s no time and space other than her hot velvet mouth that surrounds him like the hot core of a star.

She adds a hand at the base of him, and he explodes so hard that he barely has brain cells left to worry about whether she will choke on it. But she doesn't even gag, even if the first spurts must be more than generous.

Fuck, this woman…

He melts in the chair while she finishes the rest of him, takes all he has to give, like she always does. They're an odd pair: an angel and a demon, and he feels like he's finally saved, resurrected – this room, this chair has never seen anything like this.

It's different with her, the emptiness that comes after. It's not filled with grief but deliverance.

He wants her to know what she’s just done, but he knows the things he's good at, and he knows the things he's not. Words are one of those things. She moans and begs and shatters and swells in his arms, she takes on a volcano and resurrects corpses long since dead, and he still doesn't know how to tell her. That he's hers, that he wants to make her feel as good as he bloody fucking can. He could be tortured for days and he still wouldn't know the right words. He tries to tell it to her in other ways and sees how she settles.

He would rather kill the whole human population on this earth than see her settle for anything.

So he forces the strange words out, fleshes them on his tongue and pushes them through teeth to haunt the stale air of his apartment that has never seen such love before.

"I missed you."

Of course it sounds so odd that she laughs. Bitter, too.

"You missed my tongue."

"No. I missed you."

She finally raises her eyes to his, doesn't try to blink back the watercolors. Those eyes are shining; they're beckoning.

"I missed you too," she says, then lays her head on his thigh like she's only a humble servant begging for mercy.

It's a farce. He's a skeleton, a ghoul of useless rubble while she's celestial; she's summer, a fucking empress.

It rips his chest to see her on her knees on the dirty floor, that she's comforting him in a chair that should've been his disposal site. The leather was supposed to be painted with shards of bone and puddles of pink-white brain; this room was supposed to echo with a single blast of a gunshot, not with roars of fragile love. He would've been found relatively soon, the neighbors wouldn't have had to complain about the smell: after all, the military takes care of their own. A lieutenant's absence wouldn't have gone unnoticed, even if everything else in him would never have been missed by anyone.

He brushes her hair, and she sighs, oblivious to his past hell. All nine circles of it, an inferno that would put poets to shame. And she doesn't know she has pulled him from the depths just by smiling.

. . .

"Promise to come back."

"Yeah I promise."

He can't promise that. Fuck, that he wants to.

Every bullet acquires sound, like that birdsong from her little window. They gain weight, they start to carry death. It used to be his power: to bring destruction. He was put on this earth to reap.

Now he's alive.

He's suddenly a man who can be killed.

Now everything's bright like he's a newborn trying to get used to a world full of pain. Light and sound and time and space; mortality.

Sharpened instincts have never been his friend. It used to be a simple dance: knife out, knife in. Drop 'em.

Line the sights and deal extinction. Walk like a ghost until the battering ram announces there's death coming.

It takes him a while to understand where the sorcery lies.

It's in the senses. She's sensuous.

"Simon–"

He hears her in the shaded crevice of rocks, catches phantom notes of vanilla from the dry desert air that tries to push through the filthy fabric of his mask. She’s with him just before the hatch opens, and for the first time in his life, he hesitates before the jump.

She tastes round and sweet after the tang of blood and smoke and metal of the field. She feels like warm, cascading water after the bleak, dead weight of a gun that leaves his hands throbbing with recoil. Her skin returns the memory of Paradise until it overrides everything else.

She's a soft blooming to the senses. And his have been blown wide, torn apart, shot full of noise. There's an amputated, burnt stump where there should be a limb and some soft skin. But still, a blast that burns flesh from bones is not that different from her soft whisper that has the power to level him like a nuclear wind.

He has to learn how to come back to his senses. It's a joke that makes him wish he could shed tears. Luckily, she's the best teacher he could ever have.

"Fuck, Simon…"

He tries to quit smoking just to be able to taste her better. A scorched tongue is a curse when a man can't get enough of cream and silk.

"I need you. Need you so much. You don't even know..."

He knows. He knows that the depth of his need surpasses hers; it always has and always will.

The last time he saw her wasn't at the base; it was when he woke up to the sight of her foraging for orange juice from the fridge with his sweatshirt on. She combined sultry lace and bare, smooth skin with an old, black hoodie.

And it swallowed her. All his darkness. She only looked sleepy and content while being smothered by all that dark cotton.

"I'm gonna make some breakfast," she announces upon seeing he's awake. "You like bacon and eggs?"

What the fuck did I do to deserve you.

She knows full well she could offer him a chest filled with gold, and it wouldn't be half as tempting as her little American breakfast.

"That'll do."

He was supposed to go to the shower but instead, his feet take him right back to her. She gives him a pleasant hum when his hands fall on her shoulders and start to rub some stress away. He knows it will make her moan, as it does now. She leans a little into him, surrenders to his treatment.

"Simon… Do you come here just for sex?"

The hiss of cooking bacon almost drowns the question. Just one syllable less, and the question would be as she originally meant it to be.

Does he come to her just for sex.

"No."

She turns to look at him with a shy little smile. It makes him want to crush her against that counter until those lips part with a helpless sound.

"I like your cooking."

"You…ass," she laughs, shoves him lightly.

He treats every day like it’s his last with her, waits patiently for her to realize he is not the man she thinks he is. Under the bones he wears there’s only more bones, nothing more. She can feed him all she wants, but it will only make him more hungry; and a day will come when she sees he’s not actually a man at all but a yawning, six feet grave.

The black cotton hugs her and makes it falsely look like this woman belongs to him. It’s another round of torture to see how she takes his shirt, takes his cock, plays with the only things he can give her for a while or two.

She has the sweater on as she gives him the softest farewell smile. She adds a few words, some more detail to her request. In truth, it's his new protocol.

"Promise to come back to me."

He doesn't ask for the sweatshirt back.

She's left with it and his promise.

. . .

"Poor lass's always sulking when you're on those solo missions."

He knows that Price might know about them by now. But if Soap knows, everyone knows.

He doesn't care: after all, the woman doesn't even try to conceal the seductive looks and dreamy smiles she gives him whether there are other people present or not. They're not a secret anymore. Perhaps that's the way she wants it to be.

But the information Soap gives him is new.

"She is?"

He goes straight to her after the plane lands. Doesn't give a single fuck about that smug look the boy gives him.

She looks slightly surprised as he simply walks in: she can see he's filthy. He has grime on his hands, on the fingerless gloves that make it easier to operate a gun when there's no threat of sweating. He smells of smoke and ruin, gasoline and tobacco – a lousy compensation for her, a ridiculous substitute to calming his nerves when he knows the mission is going to be tricky. It already pisses him off that her cream will be mixed with smoke and disease again. He knows his weaknesses, which aren't many. But with her, he has learned it's not about the quantity.

The sorrow is briefly disguised from him. It's admirable: the way she tries to hide even the plainest of things. He knows her by now, knows that the sun casts shadows too. She should know he's the one she can cast them safely with.

The throat between the shoulders burdened by work and worries looks fragile in his hands. A bird's neck he could wrench without breaking a sweat.

"Mmh. I love your hands."

"Just my hands?"

He shouldn't be touching her with his filth, but he can't help it anymore. If she loves it, who is he to argue back?

Love your hands too.

Fuck, I love your smile. Your tits, your lips. That little pout you got when you don't get what you want right away.

I love–

She sighs. Then she cranes that beautiful neck, clings to him with one, tiny hand. "Why are you here, Simon?"

"Heard you were sulking," he mutters in her hair.

"What…?" She laughs. She laughs, but she's not happy. "What on earth are you talking about?"

She's shy. Reserved. Hiding behind a wall of humor and sunshine and smiles. His darkness penetrates it all.

"Heard you're devastated when I'm gone," he tries even more softly.

She could take it as arrogance. One of his lousy jokes. But she knows better than that.

"I am," she finally says, angel-soft. When she turns, there's finally sorrow in her eyes. She looks up at him, up, up, again with that stare that says I am yours to command. On the brink of tears; tears he wants to battle to the abyss. But his muscles are no use here.

Her lip trembles, just a little, when he brushes his knuckles over her cheek.

"We can't have that."

"We can't?"

"No."

"Well what are you going to do about it?"

Her voice is soft, pleading. It's not a demanding question: the woman's simply out of it. She wants assistance, assurance.

What are your orders, sir?

She worries too much. Up until this point, he thought it’s just because she's dutiful, responsible, one of the best employees there is. But she's not tense from work.

It's not just the missed you's she whispers when his skin is at its most thin.

She fears losing him.

Stone-cold realism is required in his field of work; no sleight of hand magic can help him when he's facing the unavoidable. If the mission is impossible, he doesn’t take it. Because he can't change the unchangeable; he can't fight the inevitable. They both know he can't promise anything.

They both know he will do his best to come back. There was a time he would’ve considered it a blessing if he didn’t. Death used to be his only ticket to some peace.

She gives him an impossible mission, and he can't say no. Leadership is about taking care of people. His people. And she's more than just a subordinate.

He grabs her by the waist and raises her to the counter, relishes the way she gasps. She weighs nothing in his hands after cold, hefty cannons. It’s almost like she gains wings and flits to the tabletop designed for him to take her. It’s the perfect height for him to simply open his pants and alleviate her pain.

"Gonna fuck you until you cry."

She sighs. "You can't solve every problem with a gun or a cock, Riley."

The woman knows how to penetrate him, too. The stabbing doesn’t stop even when her thighs part slowly - she knows, just as much as he, that this is the best way to remind her just how alive he is. This is the only thing he can give her, and he is damn right going to deliver. His hand covers half of her thigh as he brushes a thumb over the sensitive inner side.

"You sure about that?"

That look of desperation makes him hard already. Her hands go about his neck in a perfect paradox with what she whispers next.

"Honey… Not here."

She calls him honey. As if this tar-black madness is only golden nectar to her.

"No?"

It’s not only sorcery, but necromancy: how she’s brought him back from the grave. No wonder such arts are considered dangerous. This is forbidden, and still, he cannot stop.

"Ya want me to stop?"

"...No."

He leaves most of her uniform on because he is in too much of a hurry to get between her legs. The woman molds herself against him the second his tip meets her folds.

"God, you feel good," she sighs as he slides in. It's like a prayer: both her words and his return back to the base. Alive.

"So fucking good…"

Fuckin' tell me about it.

She whimpers and clutches him like a little leech. Almost cries already.

"That's it. You just hold onto me."

If someone heard the way he's cooing in her ear, they would deem him soft in the head. He doesn't give a fuck.

Her moans chime inside his head like the softest, most beautiful opera. He has never been a man of high culture. The whole civilization could go to hell for all he cared. But she sings to him so beautifully that even a man like him can finally see the appeal. Legs wrap around him even tighter than those small hands until he doesn't know who's holding who here.

"That feel good..?"

"Yes… Don't stop, just don't stop."

She's almost limp in his arms. Good. He's managed to relieve that tension already.

He goes deeper, deeper, and a tiny hand that saves people instead of slaughtering them grabs him by the shirt, probably in an instinct to try and catch some skin. He can't see her face but the body against him trembles and shakes as he spreads her wide and pours love in her.

"No need to sulk, sweetheart. I got you."

She's crying, or laughing, or both. Of course she likes pet names paired with support. He adds it to the list of things the woman loves, the things he can give her. He hopes, half expects that she will shed some tears after shattering around his cock. She needs a good cry as much as she needs him. And nothing feels as good as this: being needed by her.

When she comes with an arched back and a scream he fears and hopes will reach every other officer here, he knows he can let go too. He's done his duty: now it's time to collect the reward. It's not transactional, she's not work, but she's still his responsibility. The woman's paycheck is fatter than anything he could ever get from his employer. He's inside her, but that doesn't mean she isn't inside him too. She's embedded in him in ways that threaten to swallow him and leave him on the shore like bleach-white bones on a beach. He stays inside her long after the waves have passed. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he doesn't dare to move.

"I still have your sweatshirt," she sighs while holding him.

"Good. Looks better on you."

"I sleep with it sometimes," she whispers and wraps herself around him so tight that he wishes he could be there every night to send her to sleep. Now she only has his memory as a company, some darkness far too big for her. "Sleep in it, actually."

His mind is like a wheel that turns around nothingness. There's nothing to hold on to; he's falling through starless space.

The eerie sound of gunshot echoes in his head, he thinks about the splatter of brain matter on the armchair; how there's at least one person in this world who would cry from hearing the news.

And not just any person, but her; a whole summer in one woman. A midsummer sun, missing some forgotten, weatherbeaten bones on a beach when there's plenty of flora and fauna to shine on.

"If you ever break your promise…"

She sniffs in his neck, and his embrace tightens instantly.

"Would rather die than break it."

His promise doesn't make any sense. Or perhaps it makes every sense. She finally cries like she's supposed to.

"Shh. I'm here now."

I'm not dead.

I'm not dead.

[darby-rowe]

maybe could we do a sub!coryo getting pegged by dom!reader and shes going super hard on him like spanking him,grabbing his hair and pulling him back against her cock? could we add some mommy kink in there too 🤭🤭

im so sorry i keep leaving my asks in the dust akskfks i write so slow im so sorry 😩

but anon this is such a hot idea. as a society we need to acknowledge the fact that coryo more than likely has a mommy kink

18+ | nsfw | mdni

cw mommy kink

coryo has a major attitude problem due to his unresolved trauma, and a common outlet he uses to vent his frustrations and express his emotions is letting you fuck the absolute shit out of him.

you can't recall how it happened the first time, but after coryo finally let you peg him, cooing in his face and calling him a good boy, he became obsessed with your silicone dick. and now you use this newfound kink as a way to 'tame' him when he's being exceptionally bratty.

you'd go out shopping in public, and you'd have to withstand coryo's complaining on how hot/cold it is outside, or how it's too crowded, or blah blah blah, etc. and by god did it get on your last nerve. was there anything in this world that coryo didn't complain about?

the last straw came and went whenever you wanted to try on a few dresses and coryo just let out the bitchiest sigh you ever heard. he didn't even say anything, and yet it made your blood absolutely boil.

so now fast forward and you have coryo on his knees in between your legs as you fuck his throat with your strap, watching his pretty blue eyes well up with tears as he gargles and gags on your silicone cock.

"that's it, baby," you purr, tangling your fingers in his soft blonde curls and guiding him back and forth on your dick. "such a nice little cocksucker, aren't ya? i guess those pretty lips are good for something else other than being a fucking brat,"

you softly wipe his tears away before plunging your cock down his throat, groaning at how hard he grips your thighs before letting him come up for air. and those wet baby blues of his never fail to get you going.

“say you love sucking my cock, brat,” you command, gripping tightly onto his hair. the whimper that emits from his throat has your knees feeling like water.

“i love…” he pants, gulping down saliva. “i love sucking your cock, mommy,”

absolutely delicious.

and one thing about coryo is that he is loud; especially when you have your cock balls-deep inside his ass, pulling him back by the hair and thrusting with everything you have. your pelvis smacks against the flesh of his ass, and he is nearly in tears from how rough you are. but it feels so, so good.

“mommy, please,” coryo babbles incoherently how good your cock feels inside him, or how you’re being too rough. his whimpers and mewls sound so fucking good coming from his swollen, spit-covered lips. “please, slow down. you’re so big. so deep. i can’t take it, mommy,”

“no, baby, you’re gonna take this cock like a good boy,” you pant, planting a hard smack! against the pale flesh of coryo’s ass. he lets out another whimper. “if you want me to slow down and be nicer, you’re gonna have to learn to not be such a fucking pompous brat. in the meantime, you’re gonna take my cock, and you’re gonna cum as many times as i see fit,”

and so you proceed to fuck him until he’s so dumb and blissed out that you can barely understand a word he’s saying — until he’s only repeating, “mommy, i can’t stop cumming”, and “my ass feels so good”, and “thank you, mommy”.

at the end of the night, you of course bring him the absolute best aftercare you can muster. you run him a bath, give him sweet kisses all over his pretty, tear-stained face, and make sure you tell him how much you really love him.

[ovaryacted]

what about ID Leon (feel like he’d have been a total fuckboy atp as a sort of phase) but what ab he always comes back to you and after a heated argument he fucks you as he’s pressing your face into the mattress while you're crying and clutching the sheets as you’re begging him to let you finish again 🤭

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | cw: Leon is ooc. Possible toxic relationship.

Ooooooo, you’re cooking here anon. Even though I personally don’t headcanon or view Leon as a fuckboy (because let’s face it, that man is not getting laid for the life of him I mean…), let’s go ahead and say he has an ego and it is reflected in his shitty communication skills (cause of anxiety and trauma womp womp).

-

It was a heated moment where Leon accidentally raised his voice at you, mentioning something about not listening to orders on a mission. It was a close call and you had ventured off without Leon’s support, and he kept calm until you were both back home. It first started as a regular conversation until it deviated from Leon not being able to keep you within arm’s reach, to you being too individualistic. You knew why he did this, he was often too worried for his good and you’d always remind him that you could handle yourself even if he didn’t believe you.

“You have to listen to me when we’re out there. Do you know what could’ve happened or do you just not give a shit?”, Leon huffed out a breath, his arms crossing over his chest and shooting daggers at you.

“Well, I’m not you Leon, not all of us think the way you do. The sooner you accept it the better!”, you grew more defiant, more angry for God knows what. The bitterness you felt from Leon always being gone to never listening to you on missions started to fester out of control.

The argument only got more intense, turning into a yelling match between the both of you. Hurtful words were said, things neither of you meant, and with a cruel “Go fuck yourself Leon”, you watched him walk out the door and slam it behind him.

You pissed him off, he pissed you off, but there was nobody else who understood your relationship the way you both did. This wasn’t the first time you two argued either, often happening after you were both stressed out and didn’t find a proper release for it. You couldn’t blame Leon entirely, always being forced to do the government’s bidding and having limited freedom would put anybody on the verge of a breakdown. Being each other’s vices also didn’t help, so it wasn’t surprising when you found Leon knocking on your front door with furrowed eyebrows close to a day later.

He smelled like whiskey, not too much to the point where it was dizzying, but enough to let you know he was drinking. Leon wasn’t there to talk, you knew that much, stuck in a never-ending cycle of adrenaline and unresolved issues.

That was how you found yourself in this position now, face down ass up on the mattress. The things that happened after you welcomed Leon back into the apartment and closed the door behind him were a blur. You remembered him kissing you hard on the mouth, walking you backward towards the bedroom and yanking on your clothes. He wasn’t gentle, not entirely, but when he pulled you forward by the leg as his mouth gravitated towards your cunt, you couldn’t stop him. You didn’t want to.

“Leon…please…”, you could barely speak, barely think, your brain was melting and spilling out of your ears along with the rest of you. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the consequences and how this might seem. Always fighting with this man just to end up back in bed with him was something you should be embarrassed about. But with the way he was pummeling into you, it was easier to forgive him.

“Just shut up”, he muttered under his breath, fucking into you harshly from behind and focusing on the way your walls pulsed around his cock. He was relentless, moving in an aggressive push-and-pull that hadn’t stopped since he crossed the threshold of your front door. The back of his hand grabbed onto your head, pushing your face against the mattress and making you release a muffled whimper.

You hid your face in the bed, tears slipping down your cheeks and your fingers digging into the sheets. Maybe this was what you deserved, to be tested constantly so Leon could come back home, back to you.

“Quit your fucking whining, I’ll let you cum”, Leon didn’t stop, knowing you were on the verge of cumming all over him for the umpteenth time. No matter how mad he was at you at the moment or how badly you pissed him off, he would let you cum however many times you could.

Sometimes you hated him for it, how he could play your body like a violin and pull every string taut until it snapped. He drained you, he stressed you out, but you still gave yourself willingly every time because that’s what made him stay.

This was how he liked you. Pliant and taking what he had to give. That was all you could do, because no matter what, Leon always came back to you.

[luciferlightbringer]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 9

I'm sorry for being so evil... Just kidding, here is a little more pain before it gets better 😘

Chapter 8|Chapter 9|Chapter 10|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 3.9k CW: Slowburn, Angst, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, depression, anxiety, insecurity, alcohol/intoxication, fuckboi flirting

You get to the hotel and check in, it wasn't crazy fancy or anything, but it was nice, quieter, didn't reek of sex and drugs. You got up to the hotel room and, maybe because you were somewhere that didn't remind you of all of the pain from the night before, you were able to flop on the bed and fall asleep. You slept without any dreams, not a healing sleep per-se, but you had caught up on the sleep you had lost from the night before.

You look at your phone, damn, you basically slept your first day of vacation away. Oh well, vacations don't need to be productive. You stare up and the ceiling, your mind wandering from what you should do, back to Lucifer. You wonder how his day was, he probably knew his next few appointments were canceled at this point, would he be mad or disappointed? Would he remember what happened last night?

You shake your head and growl at yourself, tugging at your own hair in frustration, 'Why do I fucking care so much?!' You got up and paced the room. You ran your hands up your face and through your hair as you walked over to the window, and pressed your forehead to the glass looking out at your view for the next few days. You saw a few restaurants, bars, and stores that littered the main drag, until the name of one grabbed your attention, and made you chuckle.

"Rock Bottom, huh? Feels appropriate for tonight," you say out loud to yourself as you change into more appropriate "out in public" clothes. You were feeling like a loser, but at least you didn't want to look like one. You grabbed your purse, strapped on some heels, and hopped across the street to the bar that felt it aligned with how you felt about life at the moment.

The bar was a dive, but it was not bad. There was a chill downstairs and a spiral staircase off to one side that twisted up to another floor with some flashing colored lights and some guys singing some sad and off-pitch karaoke. Yup, this was the vibe for the night. Luckily, this bar did not seem super crowded and you were able to find a seat with ample space over near the side of the bar to set yourself at.

The bartender saw you and nodded in your direction while they were finishing a couple of drinks. "Be right with you in just a moment, sweetheart," the woman said while juggling her bottles and shakers.

"No problem," you said with a tired smile. You watched the woman flip and spin the bottles as the customers in front of her watched with excitement. You loved watching bartenders who could do cool tricks, it was not a requirement for their job of course, but you were sure it got them more tips and it always made you hope that they enjoyed what they did. Or maybe they were just trying to give themself some amount of joy in their hellhole of a job working with drunk people and their bullshit.

Eventually she passed off the drinks to the customers, tossed her towel over her shoulder, and headed over to you.

"Thanks for waiting, welcome to Rock Bottom, what can I get ya?" the woman asked you. She gave off a "cool biker mom" kinda vibe, lots of tattoos and piercings all over her, a biker looking vest and short cropped slicked back black hair with one big pink streak jutting back from her right temple, all being held back by a red bandana.

"Just a long island iced tea, please," you said softly.

"Ah, one of those nights huh?" She said cocking an eyebrow, "No problem, coming right up."

You lean more on the bar, "What do you mean by that?" you say with a sly smile and a squint.

The bartender waved her hand, "I'm sorry, you're not one of my regulars, I shouldn't joke so bluntly right off the bat. Normally, the heavier the starting drink, the more sorrow the customer is trying to drown out."

"Hmm. Well, you're observations are quiet astute, as that is exactly why I ordered it," you say with a cocky smile.

"Well, the down on their luck do happen to be our target audience," the woman says flipping her shaker and bottles again, "May I ask what we are drowning today?"

You make a raspberry sound and then rub your face.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," the woman said to you.

You laugh, "No it's fine, just hard to sum up in a quick statement. Just... work bullshit and... I don't know... utter fucking confusion of my life and what to do."

The woman nods sympathetically, "Sounds like hell." She looks at you, you both crack a smile and laugh. She hands you your drink.

"Sure is Hell... Just... almost felt like I had escaped it for a little... But anyways... I won't bother you more with my bullshit," you say looking down at your drink and taking it in your hands.

The woman shrugged, "Hell doesn't got therapists, bartenders are as close as they come. Name's Brooklyn if you need anything else, sweetheart." Brooklyn said, flipping the towel over her shoulder again as she went to greet another new guest who had settled on the other side of the bar. By the way Brooklyn greeted them, they looked like a regular.

You sipped on your drink and people watched for a while. As the night went on, you ordered some food and a few more drinks, watching people some and go. The room started to fill up with more patrons.

At one point, you saw a young Imp couple come in and snuggle into a booth together, kissing and snuggling, happily tipsy and enjoying each other's company. You sighed, you missed Lucifer and the way he would hold you. You wished it was real, you wished you could figure out if anything about your relationship with him was real. It also still drove you crazy trying to figure out why you would want it to be real. It was just a job... right?

Eventually, some drunk guy sauntered up to you. 'Oh boy, here we go.'

"Hey hot stuff, what are you doing moping over here by yourself, you're to sexy to be sad," he slurred at you, leaning on the bar.

You sighed, turned on your barstool and kicked one leg over the other, "Actually, I'm just sexy enough to be sad, thank you very much. Also... just out of curiosity, does this tactic ever work for you? The whole drunken loser with a backhanded compliment shtick?" You cock and eyebrow and smile.

"Wha- pffttt. Wow, why you gotta be such a bitch? I was just wanting to show you a fun time," he said leaning more into your face.

"Oh ya? And what would that look like? A minute of disappointing fingering and unimaginative attempts at dirty talk followed by five minutes of lack-luster penetration, doggy style with my unstimulated, unenthused, bone dry cooch while you scream "You like that you dirty little slut? You like how daddy fucks your tight little pussy, babygirl?" before you combust and roll over saying you are too tired to even attempt to make me feel any amount of pleasure, let alone getting me off? That kind of fun time?" you say giving him a smug smile.

The man in front of you just stares at you slack-jawed, so mad and confused he did not know what to say. You smirk, kick one of your heels up onto the middle of his chest, "That little bit of fun public degradation is the most fun we will be having tonight. Now get out of my face." You say as you push your foot against his chest, sending the man toppling backwards into a few onlookers that parted to let him drop to the floor and flail. You get a couple of whistles, claps, and hollers as you turn back to your drink.

Brooklyn stood at your end of the bar with a big smile on her face, "Well then! I was about to get ready to tell him to piss off, but you seem to have already handled it."

You shrug, "Men like him know they have no chance with shit like lines like that. They know they are going to get shut down and honestly, they love being put in their place. It's a kink for them, even if they would never want to admit it outright. I did him a favor really. If he is able to remember any of that interaction tomorrow, he'll have jerk off material for weeks." You say looking at him still splayed out on the floor.

Brooklyn howled with laughter, "Wow! That's incredible! Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"No, I won't do you next," you say, you and Brooklyn erupt into more laugher. "Sorry, yes, ask away."

"Are you a sex worker?" Brooklyn asked. You nod. "Nice! My ex-girlfriend used to be a sex worker and she used to be able to mentally bulldoze men like that, so I was just curious. It's always so fun to watch."

"Guilty as charged, but I'm off the clock for a few days," you say.

"Ah, very good. Doing anything fun?" Brooklyn asked.

You picked up your cup and shook it.

"Just drink away your sorrows? Sounds like a bummer of a vacation," she says wiping down the counter.

You shrugged and sighed, "I just... have some things I need to figure out. Just needed some space for a few days."

She leaned on the bar, "Space from what, if I may be so bold?"

You nod, "Ehhh, it's... not something I can talk about with others."

She shrugged, "Fair enough. I'm here every day if you change your mind."

"Thanks." You finish up a couple more drinks, happily drunk and numb, thanked Brooklyn and paid for your evening, and waddled your way back to the hotel before passing out for the night.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning you wake up with a hangover, which you expected, but it was worth it. You scroll through your phone for a while, but eventually you realize that you aren't actually looking at anything , just scrolling just to scroll. You sigh and stare at the ceiling of the hotel room, the thoughts of your issue with Lucifer drifting back.

You eventually feel the thoughts start to frustrate you and you start to cry. Why was this so hard?! The thoughts did not seem to want to organize themself into anything helpful, just stagnated in place in your mind, floating around like milk soaked Cheerios. Hells, you wish you could talk to someone, literally anyone about your issues, but you couldn't. You ended up getting up and pacing again until you ended up pressing your forehead against the cold window again. You looked out at all of the stores and people walking around, until your eyes landed on the Rock Bottom. You smiled, thinking about Brooklyn and the drunk guy from the night before.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in your head. Brooklyn, you COULD talk to Brooklyn! You just could not give her exact details like Lucifer, Charlie, the hotel, but you could talk to her about it in more general terms. Yes! This was the answer! Well... if Brooklyn was serious about being someone that you could talk to. It... wouldn't hurt to at least ask, right?

You quickly got dressed and popped back across the street to the Rock Bottom. You walked inside the bar, it was a lot more slow during the day, but there were still a few customers scattered around the downstairs area. You saw a young man at the bar, but no Brooklyn. You were disappointed not to see her.

"Hey there!" the young man called out to you, "Welcome in, how can I help you?"

"Hey... sorry, umm... I was kinda looking to see if Brooklyn was here. I can come back later," you start to turn to leave.

"Oh! No she is here, she's just in the back. I'll go get her for you!" the young man said before disappearing into the back. A few minutes later, Brooklyn emerged from the back storage room, and smiled when she saw you.

"Ah! Afternoon, sweetheart. How are you doing today?" Brooklyn smiled.

"Hey! I'm doing... alright... Hope I'm not interrupting anything," you say rubbing your arm.

Brooklyn waved a hand, "Don't worry about it, just doing inventory, earlier to do during the day when it's slower. What can I do for you?"

"Well..." you start, looking at the floor, then balled your hands into fits to get yourself to ask, "Did you mean what you said about being here... if I needed to talk?"

Brooklyn smiled, and looked at her watch, "I'm sure I can squeeze you in for an appointment, you good waiting for my lunchbreak?"

You waved you hands, "Oh! I don't want to take away from your lunch break! Plus, I don't want you to get in trouble or anything with your boss."

Brooklyn laughed, you looked at her confused, "Sweetheart, I am the boss, I can do what I want, and right now, I want to hear about what's got you sulking to my part of town and drowning your sorrows in my bar." You smiled and nodded, you don't know what it was about her, but you trusted her. She kinda reminded you of your grandmother, in the cool spunky kinda way, also maybe a little bit of how you used to be with your siblings. You waited about an hour and a half at the bar to finish up her inventory, and then you and her went up to a little balcony on the second level of the bar.

"Welcome to my office, now tell me miss... oh fuck... I just realized I've never asked your name," Brooklyn said embarrassed.

You laughed, "It's ok, it's (y/n)."

"Well alright, miss (y/n). What's going on?"

You start, without giving away exact details, tell Brooklyn the tale of the last several months, getting hired by a powerful person to secretly be their prostitute, the sex turning into nights of supports on both sides, helping them reconnect with their child and helping them achieve their goals, how they defended you against an abusive client, you left out the extermination fight but did mention that they were wanting to keep you safe during that event, and finally the night that brought you here. The whole time, Brooklyn listened intently, nodding and sometimes asking a clarifying question or two.

At the end of that all, Brooklyn sighed. "I can see why you'd be feeling overwhelmed right now. It would be confusing to love someone and got some drunk inducted, confusing confirmation of returned feeling while in a weird role/power dynamic with them."

You nodded, "Ya..." you blinked as you processed what she had said, "Wait... what?"

She looked at you and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

You stared at her, "I... I never said I loved him."

She nodded, "Yes you did."

You stared at her, "When???"

She smiled, "With every word you said about this person, how you treated them, how you felt about how they treated you... You do love them, right?"

You thought through everything, every look, every touch, every nickname, every night in his arms, every time he showed up in your room, the way he protected you, the way you thought of him when we were alone or with other clients, the way you felt being with him and Charlie at the hotel, the unbridled fear you felt at him telling him telling you he loved you. Why you cared if you lost him. It was all because you were afraid of losing the love you felt from him. The love you felt for him.

You loved him, you loved Lucifer.

Tears poured from your eyes as the realization sunk into you. You turned to look at Brooklyn, "Oh my god... I love him."

Brooklyn laughed, "Did you not realize until just now?"

You shook your head, the tears getting heavier, "No!" you choked out, your breath heaving, "I've never knew love could feel like this. I've never felt this before!" You start to crumple inward as the tears overtake you.

Brooklyn's smile faded, "Oh sweetheart," she pulled you into a hug as you sobbed. You tried to apologize and she just shushed you.

After you calmed down, you sigh, "Ok but... how do I know if he actually loves me?"

"He does," Brooklyn said.

"How do you know?" you sniffle.

She gives you a look, "Girl, how many guys that hire hookers introduce them to their daughters and then keep bringing them around their daughter and her friends?"

You blinked.

"And if that isn't enough, he beat up another client that hurt you. He doesn't just love you. He is down bad for you," Brooklyn smiled.

"And you're sure?" you ask.

Brooklyn nodded, "100%, on my afterlife, or may Satan take my bar."

You sniffled again and laughed, "Well, I wouldn't want Satan to take over your bar... I don't know him, but I get the feeling he wouldn't be as good of a bartender as you." You and Brooklyn laugh.

You look out from the balcony, thinking about how somewhere far away, on the other side of the circle, Lucifer, the King of Hell, was in love with you. Maybe thinking about you. Missing you. It made your heart ache, thinking of how you had run away from him, when you now realize he was probably just too scared to tell you how he felt.

"Do you think he'll be mad at me for running away from him?" you ask Brooklyn.

She shook her head, "If he is any man worth keeping, and if there really is that much of a power dynamic difference, he'll understand why you did what you did."

You nod. At this point, Brooklyn had to go back to work. You hung out at the bar the rest of the night, not getting nearly as drunk this time.

The next two days, you would go back to the bar during Brooklyn's breaks to talk through new thoughts and insecurities, and Brooklyn would softly but firmly refute each one. Damn, is this what therapy was like in the living world? Life would have turned out different maybe if this was something you had back then. Oh well, it's too late now.

On your last day, you packed up your room and went to say goodbye to Brooklyn, she gave you a hug and wished you goodbye. Telling you that you were always welcome to come back and talk, and that she expected an invite to the wedding if it worked out. You both laughed.

Soon, it was time to get int the car and head back home, back to the Lounge, back to Lucifer.

_____________________________________________________________

A little bit later, you arrived back at the Lounge. You got out of the car, headed up to your room to drop off your bag, then headed downstairs to see Larry and tell him you were back.

You found Larry and he smiled to see you, "Babydoll! I'm so glad you're back. How're ya feeling?"

You smiled, "Much better, thank you for being patient with me."

"Of course! Now, here is your rescheduled appointments for tomorrow," he said handing you a list. You looked through, and were disappointed to not see "Lance" in his usual time. You looked up at Larry.

"No Lance?"

Larry shook his head, "We called him and let him know you were going on vacation, and he said he would call back when he wanted to reschedule." Ok, no problem. You could get that, maybe he just didn't want to jump on when you were going to be getting home from your break. Ya, that sounds like something he would do. He loved you, right? You could be patient.

You were patient... as days turned to weeks, and Lucifer did not call to schedule with you. Every day you lost more hope, life slipped back into the way it was before you had ever known him. Cynthhhhia watched you from the shadows of the brothel, pleased to see your decent into misery as she started to get more well paying client's again. Sure, playing nice with the customers did pay off, but so did knocking Larry's favorite girl off of her groove. And the best part? No, one would ever know.

One day you looked out the window of your apartment and sighed, "Guess you were wrong after all, Brooklyn. Looks like Satan will be coming for the bar after all."

You wanted to laugh at the idea of Satan trying to run a bar, but all you could do was cry as your newly discovered heart was now broken.

Serves you right for thinking that love was actually possible in such a hopeless place.

______________________________________________________________

Charlie's phone rang, she looked over to see her dad's ID pop up on her phone. She scrambled to pick it up, she had called him several times over the last couple of week and he had not been answered. It had her worried, he had not done this since before his visit to the hotel that brought them back together.

"Dad! Hi! It's so good to see you call. Are you ok?" Charlie asked.

Lucifer cleared his throat on the other end of the phone, "O-Oh course! Why, why would anything be the matter?"

"Uhh... because you haven't answered any of my calls in weeks? Also you and (y/n) were basically here every day and now I haven't seen either of you..." Charlie waited for a moment, Lucifer struggled to figure out what to say. Hearing your name made his heart sear with pain.

"Oh uh... we've uh... it's just been busy." Lucifer said.

"Dad, did something happened?" Charlie pleaded.

"I... I'm sorry sweetie, I can't talk about this right now. I was just calling to see if you could go to a meeting for me? Please?" Lucifer pouted. That was not a good sign. Something must have happened, but now did not seem like a good time to press, not over the phone anyway.

Charlie sighed, "Ok Dad, on one condition."

Lucifer paused, "That condition being???"

"Just... just come visit sometime this week, come have dinner with me? Please?" Charlie pleaded again.

Lucifer sighed, he may not have you, but he did still have his daughter, he couldn't lose that again, "Ok, I will."

"Great! I'll see you later! Text me the details of the meeting. I love you, Dad."

Lucifer told Charlie he loved her too, then Charlie hung up, and turned to see Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Alastor, and Niffty all looking at her in anticipation.

"What kin'a scheme you cookin' up now, Princess?" Angel asked.

"Well, would anyone up for a little, community "Emotional Intervention" bonding?" Charlie was met with a room full of mischievous, sharp, approving smiles.

______________________________________________________________

You guys, the Cynthhhhia hate is giving me LIFE, I'm so happy how much y'all hate her. Keep up with the ideas, how should she be brought to justice? 😈 As usual, leave a comment if you want added to the taglist so that you can get notifications when future chapters drop! xoxo, dany (OMG there are so many of you!😍 Please let me know if the tag isn't working for you) Taglist :(red names are not tagging for some reason 😢)@froggybich @wonderlandangelsposts @glowinthedarkbones1150 @marydragneell @crescent-z @superdinosaurnacho @jam0001 @kyo-kyo1 @so-get-this-sammy @lilzebeth @kelppsstuff @loquacious-libra @pinkhoneydrop @luleck @writer-girl99 @lavenz @stormz369 @littleladydemon @soujiswife @melday0105 @luluxx118 @sseleniaa @futureittomainn @cktkat @zaneyyyy @uravitsy @liecoris @starlitvenus @hannahrose130 @elleofdragons @butch-medusae @concentratedconcrete @erosamasan @stranger-chan @aquaamethyst96 @lxkeee @holyspacething @hulyenl @leximus98 @lu-ferri12 @mixplara @katnisspeetaprim @rebecca-hvnstn @roboticsuccubus83 @nekemewlita @femboyfatalle @thelethex @cryptidghostgirl @snowlotr @bangchansdirty-slut @glowymxxn @mcueveryday @hotvillianapologist @oneiric-rotaerc

[brittscafe]

Gojo Saturo Headcanons

CW: Gojo Saturo headcanons. x female reader.

SFW:

Man is literally lost puppy following you around.

Personal safe does not exist with Gojo Saturo, he's all over you 24/7.

He craves your attention and will get it at any cost.

If you're beside Gojo, his hands are all over you.

He's a big tease and he's super cocky which means he's way in over his head sometimes.

Gojo loves to make you laugh, which isn't hard for him to do since he's already a funny person.

His eyes will roll into the back of his head when you play with his hair or comb your fingers through the strands of snow-white hair.

Gojo adores being the little spoon and resting his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist so tightly you can barely breathe, but it's okay.

You're his safe space, which he never wants to leave. He could stay in your arms/lap/chest/grasp all day.

Although, Gojo can be a little selfish, he never is when it comes to you.

The lengths this man would go to protect you is out of this damn world.

Ohhhh, let a person lay a hand on you and Gojo is taking off that damn blindfold real quick.

He means business when it comes to you.

The rage and anger he becomes filled with makes him spiral and lose control, but only because he cares and loves you so much.

You're so soft with Gojo because you feel as if he's going to break if you hurt him.

You know his past, so you're kind and gentle with him, as you should be.

Definitely calls you baby with a soft, husky voice that makes your heart pound.

Soft, tender, lingering touches.

Taking care of each other and reassuring each other with gentle words.

Comforting, out of these world hugs from either of you that heal your trauma and wounds.

NSFW:

Oh, please, he definitely cracks dirty jokes in the middle of the act that makes your cheeks fluster.

He's sooo fucking cocky in bed, it's outrageous.

"Do you like that?" Or "Use your words, baby" because he's ramming his hips into yours, hitting all the right spots that you can't even form words.

Gojo will literally grab your jaw and force you to look at him as he's running you.

Gojo loves every inch of your body and worships you like a damn temple.

His soft, warm lips running all over your body, leaving marks so everybody knows that you're his.

He loves to get drunk on your pussy and overstimulate you, asking if you can give him another orgasm, when you've already given him 3.

Gojo is a whimper and a whiner, especially when you go down on him.

He grab onto a lock of your hair and pull onto it, bucking his hips forward and shoving his cock deeper inside of your throat.

He'll be sitting on the couch, arms hung over the back and his legs spread out, watching your pretty lips wrap around his long cock.

Gojo occasionally degrades you in bed and spanks you, but it's not often. Only when he's had a rough day and he gathers your consent before hand.

Consent is a big thing for Gojo, always asking you if it's okay or if you like it.

He's come up with a safe word, just in case.

He prefers to see your face so he can pepper your face and lips in sweet kisses.

Gojo is the biggest fan of sleepy sex.

Slipping his cock inside of you as your back is curled up against his chest, arms wrapped around and holding you in place.

He tries cockwarming, but when you squirm or clench your walls around him, he can't handle it.

Gojo will get all whiny and start to move his hips, unable to take it.

Let me not go into details about how many times you've had sex on the kitchen counter...

He gives your breasts and ass equal attention because he just can't decide which one he likes more.

He doesn't prefer quickies, he likes to take his time and make sure to pleasure you well.

[redr0sewrites]

I am here from the kafka/blade/reader fic and I am going absolutely feral abt it. Sub Bladie my beloved.

Anyway, I come bearing a request for sub dang hen/reader and overstim :0 I want to rail this pretty man until he can’t think abt all that trauma, at least for a little while lmao.

adjjddjnd glad u liked the fic omg ajsj!!!!! u r so, so real for this HOPE U ENJOY TEEHEE! im so excited for this, dan heng is one of my favs!!!

🥀CW: smut, edging + overstimulation, marking, dirty talk, bondage, sub/dom dynamics, horn/tail stimulation(??), choking, one slap, reader is gender neutral

🥀 minors dni

a choked whine left dan hengs mouth as you slowly rubbed your hand over his horns. his hips bucked up slightly, his cock was erect and twitching as you rubbed soothing circles on the inside of his thigh.

"ple- please, please just touch me!" dan heng practically sobbed, his hands pulling at the restraints holding him against the bed. his tail, the only part of him that could reach you, was wrapped tightly around you, twitching slightly every time your fingers brushed against his horns.

"oh, but i am touching you," you said slyly, "is my little dan heng being greedy?" dan heng let out another whimper of pleasure as you leaned above him and licked the very tip of his horn. he struggled and squirmed against the restraints, but they didnt budge. you had tied him down like this for the past half hour, barely touching him and not letting him do anything about it.

"please, please, i just wanna cum..." dan hengs usually stoic nature had been washed away in his desperate need for release, and his thighs were trembling. the tip lf his tail thrashed slightly in desperation, tickling against your thigh. you cooed softly, taking the time to explore his body. you removed your hands from his horns, and placed one on the center of his chest, rubbing over his sensitive nipples causing dan heng to whimper. you moved to straddle him, his cock pressing against your ass. you rocked against him, earning you a needy whine as he tried to rut up against you, tears of frustration in his eyes as he squirmed.

"aw, does the pretty boy wanna cum?" you asked, brushing the hair from his face as you undid his restraints. he nodded, and the second his hands were free they moved to your hips. his tail wrapped around one of your legs, and dan heng pouted below you.

"please, ive been so good..." dan hengs pathetic pleading made you smirk.

"aw, of course you have- for being such a good boy, i'll let you choose what i do next. does that sound fair?" in response to your words, dan heng nodded. he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, eyebrows furrowed.

"i want.. i want you to fuck me..." he said softly, looking up at you almost shyly. how cute! you giggled, flipping him over on his stomach and he gasped softly. you had already prepped yourself, and aligned your tip at dan hengs hole. he mewled softly as you rubbed your cock against his ass, and slowly entered him. dan heng gasped at your size, hips bucking as you rocked against him to adjust yourself. you roughly grabbed his hips, your skin slapping against his as you began to move teasingly slow, purposely avoiding the places he wanted you most.

"faster!" dan hengs voice was so needy, almost whiny as he rutted his hips against the bed below you. "please go faster?" you scowled slightly, his tail was swishing back and forth in the air and you reached out, grabbing it roughly. dan heng squealed below you, clawing at the bed as you ran your hands over his sensitive tail. in the meantime, your thrusts grew faster and faster as the both of you grew more and more aroused. dan hengs hole was practically sucking you in, he was so needy and desperate. dan heng truly was the cutest~

"im- im close! im gonna-" dan hengs voice was high and whiny as you sped up your thrusts even more, his tail squirming in your grip. you reached down with your free hand as you hit against his prostate and he moaned loudly. you could tell he was so, so close, and you grabbed one of his horns, pulling his head back roughly.

dan heng let out a soft shout of pleasure as his orgasm ripped through him, his whole body shivering as you continued to stimulate both his tail and his horn. the bed below him was sticky with release, and yet you didnt stop.

"please- i came, i just came!" dan heng whimpered, the overwhelming feeling of pleasure from your rough thrusts making him more overstimulated then he already was.

"aw, you really thought i was done with you?" you chuckle maliciously, and he lets out a sob of pleasure. you let go of his tail and horns, and bring both hands back to his hips. immediately your thrusts get faster and rougher as both of your hips slap together, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as dan hengs moans serenade you.

dan heng could feel the coil in his stomach growing tight for the second time, and let out a loud whimper as you abused his prostate. he could feel you so deep inside him, his whole body was twitching and squirming as he rutted his hard cock against the bed. suddenly, you roughly grab the back of his neck, pushing him down further into the mattress and using your weight to pin him as your thrust became more calculated against his prostate. dan heng let out a son of pleasure, tears streaming down his face as his second orgasm overcame him. you squeezed his neck, the loss of airflow making his eyes roll back in pure ecstasy. he loved every second of this, loved being used by you.

you marvelled at dan heng as he came, your thrusts not stopping for a second. he truly was exquisite like this, his eyes shining with tears and cheeks flushed as he drooled against the mattress as you pounded into him. the sweat and fluids from both of your bodies was mixing together and it only made you more aroused.

"gah- auhh~ i came- i came, please-" dan heng was pleading with you again, his tail twitching.

"aw, you want me to stop?" you asked condescendingly. "too bad. you asked to come, didnt you? this is what you wanted, filthy little slut." you knew that dan heng could always safe word if he wanted to, yet he didnt. he truly was aroused by this, by you treating him like nothing but a fuck toy. you slapped his ass roughly and he squealed, hips jerking up from the bed as you continued to pound into him.

dan hengs third orgasm came quickly, and he could already feel his fourth building in his abdomen. he was so aroused, he felt as though his whole body was on fire. his brain foggy with pleasure, he barely registered his fourth orgasm as he felt the blissful accumulation of his pleasure wash over him again.

dan heng was practically falling apart below you, it was such a shame you were nowhere near done with him. his hole practically sucked you in on every thrust, his whole body flushed with need as his brain clouded up. you carried him through orgasm after orgasm, he had lost count of how many times he had come.

you leaned down, biting roughly against his shoulder and littering his back and neck with bite marks. dan heng sobbed in pleasure, keening as another euphoric high tore through his entire body. his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he blacked out for a second, your hand returning to his neck as you fucked him through yet another blissful high.

tears streamed down his face, cheeks a burning hot red as his lips trembled. you collapsed against him unceremoniously, the both of you utterly exhausted. dan hengs tail wrapped around you yet again as he curled up besides you, clinging to you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

"was i too rough this time, love?" your voice was gentle as you brushed the sweaty hair that was clinging to dan heng's forehead out of his eyes.

"no.. you were perfect.." he mumbled, burrowing his face your collarbone. you chuckled lovingly, and asked,

"do you want to take a bath?" dan heng sighed, and replied,

"no, wanna cuddle. and sleep. goodnight..." you giggled, unable to argue as your lover nuzzled into the crook of your neck. you could clean up tomorrow, but for now you would relax with your lover.

i need him so bad ik im at like 7 pity but dan heng come hooooomeeee urghhhhh 😭😭😭 this man is so unbelievably fine omfg

[konigsblog]

Serious question, out of all the COD guys who do u think would cheat on their girlfriends/wives?

CW: NON-CON ELEMENTS, CHEATING, NARCISSISM/GOD COMPLEX. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT – KÖNIG X F!READER

i'm gonna say könig, and it pains me to see him as a cheater, but i view könig to be almost narcissistic, becoming verbally abusive when he doesn't get what he wants.

he won't hesitate to use threats, threatening things such as, your relationship – that he'll get sex from someone else if you don't give in to his repulsive, sickening desires - that he'll find someone that can please and satisfy his depraved fantasies.

and although a part of könig deep down doesn't want to do this to his wife, he thinks with his cock, instead of his brain – thinking about how satisfied he'd be, so selfish when it comes to his fantasies.

he knows you're probably in pain, at the scent of cheap perfume on his marked neck, or the sight of him looking dishevelled when he comes home to you, tipsy and a mess, with lipstick stains along his collar, the crimson smeared across the white material. könig can see the sadness in your glossy eyes, the wetness on your cheeks as he caresses your face, cupping your jaw and pleading with you to not abandon him.

of course, he'll lie, tell you he was drunk – that if he was sober, he wouldn't dare lay a finger on another woman like he'd just done.

despite his desperate pleas and drunken lies, you see right past him. you're not stupid, nor going to fall for his useless attempts at fixing the situation. you knew all about his filthy thoughts, how he was desperate to re-enact them with someone. it was a complete lie he'd told you, and seeing him lie without hesitation, straight to your sobbing face, was enough for poor, little you.

due to könig's narcissism, he can't fathom how you'd ever think of leaving him – he could barely understand why you were so infuriated and mortified by his perverse actions, i mean, you're not that important in comparison to someone like könig – you had it coming, it was your fault, regardless of what he'd done.

könig likes to believe he's the most important thing ever created, the spitting image of a god, almost. that his disturbed desires should be fulfilled, without protests against it or struggles against his filthy, grimey hands.

the topic of divorce is always shut down – you're constantly silenced. your attempts at expressing your opinion are fruitless, ignored and blown off as könig lazily pours himself another shot of vodka with a grin curling the sides of his mouth, getting drunk rather than focusing on the stress and worries he's caused to his once beloved wife.

he'll try to convince you that he still adores you, as if that'll make you feel any better. in his drunken state, he's full of himself and believes you're just upset because you're insecure – or that you're jealous, fearing you'll be replaced. although, that's not your concern – your concern is his disloyalty and his betrayal of trust.

könig has been with you long enough where you know every little thing about him; his childhood, trauma, or his disturbing and frightening thoughts. he'd have to keep you for himself.

divorce isn't an option, schatzchen...

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Infatuation - T.R. x fem!Reader

A/N: Here it is! Part two to Adoration! It took me a couple days to write coz I’m a slow writer lol, but I had a lot of fun with it. I hope it lives up to the first one! It has more plot to it than porn, so I hope that’s okay.

Gif is not my own; it was found on Pinterest, uploaded by Wattpad

No use of Y/N. Reader is Dumbledore’s daughter. Tom is in his seventh year for this fic. It’s mostly unedited and only my second time writing smut so please be nice 💛 Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

CW: mentions of hatred; talk of revenge plans; descriptions of male arousal and such; sexual fantasies; a brief moment of nausea and self-hatred; religious trauma, I guess; Tom being a bit of a sub; (badly written) graphic descriptions of a blow job; praise kink; infatuation with the reader

Does contain mature content so NO MINORS PLEASE!!! Just keep scrolling!!

1588 words

Tom avoids you for a whole week. It’s hard to do. Every time he sees your smile or hears your laugh, his body reacts to it.

It’s the most uncomfortable he’s ever been in his life, forced to use all his tactics to will away his sudden unwelcome erections. After that first incident, he refuses to grant himself proper relief.

It diverts his attention from his grand revenge plan. It’s an almost perfect plan. He’ll humiliate you in public, make it so you never smile at him again. He’ll finally be free from the intense discomfort you’re unknowingly putting him through.

It’s almost perfect…

… except he can’t seem to make himself follow through.

It’s not for lack of hatred. He has plenty of that when it comes to you. Nor is it for lack of willpower. It takes more than a firm will to ignore just how achingly hard you make him.

It’s just… every time he sees your smile, something within him stops. It makes him look like a fool; just standing there, staring at you. And then you smile and wave, just at him, and he’s instantly hard again.

He hates it. He despises it. He wants to scream with rage every time it happens.

His grand revenge plan, ruined by your stupid smile!

He sulks in his room, plotting on how best to get his revenge.

Finally the idea comes to him. It’s a stupid idea; a last ditch attempt at revenge. Take advantage of your friendliness. Of your smiles. Get close to you, and then hex you so bad you can’t walk afterwards.

Tom clings to the idea like a lifeline. All he has to do it get close to you somehow. And then his problems will be over.

The solution presents itself a few days later. You’re in need of tutoring. And who better to tutor you than Tom Riddle himself?

His plan goes swimmingly. Perfect. Absolutely wonderfully.

Until your first study session with him.

He’s already hard.

It’s not even been twenty minutes and you’ve smiled at him four times. FOUR! Who even smiles that much?!

Tom grits his teeth and forces a polite smile as you ask him another question about your homework. He answers evenly, calmly; despite the raging erection he’s just managing to hide under the table.

It throbs with need, begging him to touch it, relieve it, do something about it. Tom refuses.

He’s trying so hard to pay attention to your questions, to focus on your homework, but it’s just so difficult.

You sigh and prop your chin on your hand, gazing at him with a look of confusion. “Tom, are you listening to me?”

He forces his thoughts away from unholy places, using all his willpower to focus on you. “Yes?”

“I asked if you know the wand movements for Silencio? I have a hard time remembering.”

A hard time…

Tom’s thoughts go right back to imagining your soft hands running along his cock… stroking it… whispering soft praises…

“Tom!” You rest your hand on his, snapping him out of his reverie. You’re frowning now. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he forces out, moving his hand away. “You wanted to know the wand movements for…”

“Silencio. I know you make a swooping motion and then flick, but do I flick up or down?” You gaze at him expectantly.

“Down.” Now that you’re not smiling it’s easier for him to focus. He takes a deep breath and exhales, trying to will away his erection.

No such luck.

After scribbling down the answer in your notes, you cast the spell, summoning a bubble of quiet around the two of you. You beam with pride, and Tom’s stomach erupts with butterflies and heat.

This was a terrible idea. A truly, horribly, absolutely terrible idea.

“… Tom. Tom. Tommy.”

He blinks, refocusing on you. “What?”

You hide a grin. “Where are you going off to? In your mind?”

He flushes a bit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You lean closer. Tom panics a bit, resting his hands in his lap to hide himself. The motion makes you glance down.

“Oh.”

Tom’s face flushed hot, his stomach churning with anxiety. “It’s just a natural thing! It doesn’t mean anything!”

You tilt your head, giving him a look. He flushes redder and shrinks a bit in his seat.

You know his secret now. Even death would be better than this. You, his mortal enemy, knowing he has a uncontrollable—

“Do you want some help?”

Your words startle him from his thoughts. “What?”

You gesture to his lap. “Do you want some help?”

He stares at you, utterly baffled. You’re not mad. You’re not disgusted. You’re not shocked and appalled. You’re just…

“You want to…” Tom hesitates. It doesn’t seem like a joke, but he’s not too sure. “How?”

You smile and duck under the table. His breathing stops. You crawl over to him and gently nudge his legs apart, settling yourself between them. You smile up at him, and he stifles a whimper at the sight.

You look beautiful, your perfect features warm with a smile.

“Have you ever had a girl do this before?” You ask softly, resting your hands on his thighs. The touch is electrifying.

Tom shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak. You look a bit surprised, but your smile grows a little. “I’m gonna use my mouth.”

His brain crashes. Your… mouth…? Your perfect, wonderful, smiling mouth on his dick?

“Oh, yes, please,” he breathes out, a soft whine to his tone.

A pleased look crosses your face. You move your hands up to undo his belt, and your palm bumps against his erection. His hips jolt and he lets out a choked sound. Even just that small touch feels better than his own hand ever could.

You undo his belt and pull down his clothes enough to reveal his aching cock. The revulsion hits Tom immediately. He clasps a hand to his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. He forces himself to look away, trying not to cry.

You were so perfect, wanting to help him; and yet here he was, a dirty disgusting person. Tom squeezes his eyes shut, the orphanage nuns’ words echoing in his mind. Tainted. Evil. Unholy. Devil-ridden.

And then—

“You’re so pretty, Tom,” you breathe, fingers reaching up to gently trace the veins on his cock. He whimpers at the touch, hips lifting up, seeking more of your touch.

His eyes open, peeking down at you. Your expression is awed. Hungry. Eager.

You look up at him and smile, leaning forward to lap at the tip of his cock. Tom moans, fingers gripping the arms of his chair. Your tongue is hot, warm, wet. The feeling is exquisite.

His mind melts to mush as you wrap your lips around his dick. He moans again, head falling back against his seat as you start to suck on his cock, ravishing it with your tongue.

You rest your hands on his thighs, keeping him from bucking up his hips as you bob your head up and down his cock. Tom tries hard to stifle his moans, but to no avail. You’re just too good.

You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock, pulling back before taking him down again. Tom whimpers at the feeling, one of his hands falling to your head. He can’t help himself; it feels too good.

He pushes your head down a bit, making you choke on his cock. He stops immediately, panic flaring in his chest. You’re going to stop, or get mad, or something!

But instead you moan. You moan around his cock, making him shudder from the vibrations. You move your head down voluntarily, choking yourself on his cock.

Tom’s hand fists in your hair. He moans loudly, head falling back once again. Your mouth and throat feel heavenly, all hot and wet and tight. It’s so much better than his hand.

He can feel the familiar feeling build up. He’s going to cum. He tries to force a warning from his throat but all he can do is whine as he cums down your throat.

It’s like pure heaven. It’s a wonderful, haze-inducing release that leaves him breathless. Tom gazes blankly up at the ceiling, body twitching from the aftershocks.

You slowly pull off, pressing a kiss to the tip of his dick. It makes him jerk and whine again. He looks down at you. You’re sitting there, licking your lips. Giving him such a look of praise. It makes him melt.

“How was it?” You ask, gently running your hands up and down his thighs. He shivers and struggles to answer. It takes him a moment to gather his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers. “I— I didn’t know it could feel that good.”

You smile, clearly pleased with yourself. You crawl out from under the table and settle back into your seat. “Let’s finish studying now, alright?”

Tom nods and tucks himself away. There’s nothing on his mind but a lingering sense of awe. “Yeah,” he murmurs, a faint smile playing across his lips. “Alright.”

You reach out and give his hand a soft squeeze, smiling warmly at him. It sets off a warm glow in his chest that makes his body all tingly. His cheeks flush and he looks down at his hands.

Perhaps his plan can wait for now. If you’re willing to do that again… maybe there is some value in keeping you around after all.

Taglist: @jillian2003 (sorry it won’t let me tag you properly)

[strongheartneteyam]

[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to @cinetrix ]

Champagne Problems 

Part 3

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: reader overthinking way too much, trust issues all around, a bunch of angst, interspecies relationship, sexual tension, sexual content, past relationship trauma, commitment issues, reader feeling unlovable, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, exophilia, size kink, creampie, dominant reader, sub neteyam, use of "good boy", slight degradation kink, sex under rain (don't ask lol), territorial and possessive neteyam, neteyam wants to make reader his mate

Hi, my cute readers <3 I haven't posted an actual full smut in a good while lol Took me some time to write this chapter, ngl, but I kinda like the result. I always fantasized about dominating Neteyam so, today I HAD to finally write my fantasies down lol if y'all like the way I write dominant reader x sub neteyam, I can maybe write more smuts like this in the future. Lemme know what you think in the comments. It always makes me happy to read your words of love and encouragement. I love every single one of you. I don't have much to say now because I'm feeling pretty sad and idk... I just wanted to thank y'all for all the support you give me. You guys are truly precious to me. You'll never know how much. Here's a virtual hug to y'all 🥰

Slightly proofread.

Part 2: I know you're dying to meet me

𓇼

I know you wanna slip under my armor

See, everywhere I go I got a million different people trynna hit it

But I'm still alone in my mind

I know you're dying to meet me

But I can just tell you this

Baby, as soon as you meet me

You'll wish that you never did

Alone (Halsey)

𓇼

Your heart was beating dangerously fast and you could not speak. Neteyam had a power over you, whether you liked admitting it or not. He had you weak in the knees for him as he kept you imprisoned between his tall, broad body and the big tree behind you.

How was he making you so vulnerable? You hadn't felt like that when it came to guys in so long. You feared what that feeling could mean.

Neteyam knelt on the ground so you could look at him without hurting your neck.

"Sevin tawtute…" (pretty human) "I want you so bad. All of you, syulang…" (flower) "I know you want me too. You came and you're here with me. There's no need to play hard to get anymore." 

Fighting against the rational part of your brain, you let your desire for him take over and moved your hand until it touched his chest, your fingers tracing his mesmerizing stripes that were a shade of blue darker than the rest of his skin.

"That's right, tawtute" Neteyam cooed, his breath faltering, your delicate touch giving him a rush of adrenaline, making him want you even more than he already did "Surrender to me."

You kept your hand on his warm chest and looked up at his face with eyes that were obviously bewitched by him as your mouth hanged slighty open. You could not hide what you felt anymore. Neteyam could tell how much you wanted that too, how much your body was calling for him as much as his body called for yours.

Neteyam looked deep inside your eyes with his big golden ones and grabbed you roughly by the waist, his huge hands squeezing you tight. His gaze never left yours. Neteyam kept your bodies together by holding you firmly against him. You felt like the air in your lungs was slipping away. You got even more breathless when he rubbed his hard cock against your pussy, making you give out a breathy, low moan.

His cock was still covered by his loincloth but you could feel it really well as he pressed it over your entrance. The thin fabric didn't do much to conceal his need. God, was he big…. Big is not even the word for it. And thick too. Your juices were leaving you all sticky between the legs.

It started raining. You had always loved when it rained while you were at the beach back on Earth and it was not different here on Pandora. You loved to go inside the Metkayina sea and feel water all around you, coming from below and above. 

It was cold now. You wanted Neteyam's warmth but didn't wanna ask for it. You were cold and his huge na'vi body would help you get warm.

Maybe it wouldn't be that bad if you gave in to him. You were already there, in front of his hammock. You came to meet him, right? So you might as well give him what he wants. Sex. Isn't that what all guys want? The only thing they want? To fuck you and then leave you alone crying, if you're foolish enough to fall for them? At least that's how it had been for you all your life. You weren't even sure if you still believed somebody could ever fall in love with you. Or fall in love and stay. You didn't know. You were shivering with the cool water falling over your skin, giving you goosebumps and it was hard to think straight.

"You're cold, yawntutsyìp." Neteyam looked worried "Come. Let's lay on my hammock together and I'll keep you warm."

You thought twice before accepting it. But you ended up giving in and letting him take you by the hand and lead you to his huge hammock. You looked at it and realized how humongous it was compared to the hammocks that were made for humans. There were some back in the laboratory. 

When the both of you stopped in front of his hammock, you took a good look at Neteyam's body. It was now even sexier with the drops of rain rolling down his toned chest and abdomen. You watched as the droplets fell through his thick thighs too. You had to admit he was fucking hot and you truly understood why he was so popular with girls. But that could also mean he was full of himself. You didn't know him well, you two had seen each other many times before but only from some distance. Neteyam had never talked to you before that night, even though you had noticed him looking at you many times when you had to go do some scientific researches on his tribe and he was around with his siblings. You never paid that much attention to it, though. You were used to guys looking at you. Not to be cocky or anything but you had been called "pretty" all your life and you knew you were attractive to many guys out there. Neteyam was just one of them, even if he stood out among the other na'vi for his uncommon beauty and you did, yes, feel drawn to him.

You watched Neteyam laying down on his hammock, his thick, fleshy thighs spreading over its surface. The stripes all over his thighs caught your attention again. You didn't understand why but you felt extremely attracted to his stripes. They made him exotic, different from what you're used to, unique… Looking at his beautiful dark blue stripes made you wanna bite his thighs.

You looked at him, still nervous but soon enough you gave in and laid next to him, by his side, your body pressing against his. Neteyam rapidly put his arm around your shoulders and, as his arms were huge compared to the ones of a human, his arm covered all of your torso too. You felt a little less cold now.

"You're so tense, tawtute. Relax, hm? Here, lemme make it better." 

Neteyam took your face inside his huge hand, its warmth spreading all over your cheek as he got his mouth close to yours and softly kissed your lips. He took your lips inside his mouth slowly but eagerly and you felt pleasure creeping in all over your pussy. You finally started relaxing and a moan escaped your lips when his tongue touched yours and massaged it softly, over and over. Neteyam took that as a green flag that meant he could be bolder now.

He started to hike up your light violet dress that was soaked by the rain, exposing your thighs to him. Neteyam ran his hand up and down your left thigh "Hmm, tawtute… You're so fucking perfect. Damn, I can't believe you're here in my arms."

"Neteyam?" You said, out of breath

"Yeah?" His eyes were still fixated on your thighs 

"Can I try something?"

"What do you mean?" Neteyam questioned

"I wanna dominate you, Neteyam. I wanna ride your cock." Your eyes were now seductive as you stared at him, your expression serious but alluring

Neteyam was caught by surprise. He did not expect you to say those words. But it did not mean he didn't like hearing them.

"Ah, baby… That's how I wanna see you. I wanna see you showing me your wild side. Wanna see my tawtute let go of her worries and just enjoy this night with me." a smile full of satisfaction adorned his beautiful full lips

You knew that meant he wanted to be dominated by you. 

As you started taking your dress off, Neteyam's eyes were glued on your body. He wanted to feel every inch of you. He was in love with every single part of your body.

Neteyam watched you slid your panties down your legs and sit on top of him. You started rubbing your soaking wet pussy on his hard cock, still covered by his loincloth, and he whimpered at the friction. You didn't care about your worries anymore. All you wanted was to feel that huge, delicious cock inside of you.

"You're gonna have to take this off for me. I have no idea how to take your loincloth off. Seems complicated to put on." Your fingers grabbed the string of his loincloth and you were smiling and looking at him

He smiled widely, a dirty look on his face "That shouldn't be a problem. Give me a second, syulang."

Neteyam took his loincloth off with ease as he was more than used to putting it on and taking it off every single day. You thought the way he did that was so fucking enticing. Damn, every single thing that alien boy did was attractive in your eyes.

Once his cock was out and it moved back, towards his abdomen, you felt something primal coming over you. You wasted no time. In a second you were already on top of him, taking his big blue cock inside your small hand and burying it inside of you. Neteyam groaned when he felt your gummy, wet walls squeezing his girthy cock.

"Hmmghh…" You couldn't help but moan because of his size

"I know, tawtute… You feel so fucking good too…" He mewled

Neteyam's cock was so big it reached the tip of your womb every time you rode him. It hurt you but it felt so insanely good at the same time. You knew your pussy would feel bruised and used the next morning but you wanted that. You wanted to spend the whole day being reminded of how Neteyam's huge cock had been deep inside of you.

You could not stop grinding on him. You loved knowing he was so desired by so many girls but tonight he was only yours. That made you feel hot since you knew you were pretty enough to not only get his attention but to make him spend all that time back in the party trying to get you. And he did. He got you good.

Neteyam cupped both your breasts and squeezed them gently

"So fucking soft, oeyä tawtute…" (my human) "Just like I thought they would be."

You put your hands over his four finger hands and kept them there while you kept moving your hips, riding him like that cock was all you ever needed in your life. Your eyes were closed, as your chin was up and your mouth hanged open, pleasure driving you crazy.

"You don't know how hot you look riding me like this with the rain falling over your skin, your hair all wet… Eywa… I'll make you mine, tawtute. I won't let you be with anyone else ever again."

Neteyam's territorial side was showing itself, he felt possessive over you just like you were his mate already. And that's exactly what he wanted you to be. Neteyam wanted to make you his forever. He wanted to own your body and your soul, to own all of you.

Neteyam's desire for you drove him wild. You could see his animalistic side taking over him. And you loved it. You fucking loved it so much. It made your pussy clench around his cock.

"Yeah? You like how I ride this big cock, Neteyam? Did any na'vi girl ever ride you as well as I do?" You kept moving your hips and rubbing your pussy on him simultaneously. It gave you an enormous amount of pleasure since you were stimulating your clit at the same time you were feeling his cock inside of you.

"No, tawtute. You're better than any na'vi girl." He cried in pleasure "I only want your ‘ekxin little pussy from now on." (tight) "Only want you."

You grinned, devilish, and put your hand on his large neck "Who's my good boy?"

Neteyam's eyes were closed and his lips were parted as he was completely taken over by the way you were dominating him. Nobody had ever done that before, it was a new territory to him. He was used to dominating all the na'vi girls he had ever had sex with.

"I am. I am your good boy, yawne."

Damn, you got Neteyam calling you "yawne".

You chuckled "Yeah, you are, pretty boy. You're so good for me."

Riding his huge, thick cock felt like fucking Paradise. You were overcome with sheer lust. Neteyam wasn't the only one who was feeling animalistic. Humans were animals just like the na'vi and at that moment you were following your deepest instincts. You felt like a bitch in heat, all for him.

"Oh, oeyä tawtute… I'm gonna cum. Wanna cum inside your pretty, ‘ekxin pussy."

"Then cum for me, my needy, cocky boy. You're so fucking cocky but you're nothing when you're vulnerable like this under me." You laughed lowly, feeling proud of yourself for making such a mess out of that pretty alien boy

Neteyam came hard inside your pussy, a big load of his thick, warm seed painting your inner walls. It felt so good. Having his cum inside your pussy, feeling a little bit of it leaking out of your entrance because of how much he came… Fuck... your pussy started clenching around him again.

You watched as Neteyam breathed heavily under you, his chest quickly going up and down.

You didn't notice when it had happened but the rain had stopped falling.

•

Taglist:

@iman-lu

@leaveitbythewave

@neteluvr (you still haven't answered my comment asking if you wanted to be tagged but since u seemed to love the first chapter... teehee 💕)

@layla2-49 (you left a comment on the first chapter 💗)

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen (you left lovely comments on the first chapter haha 💖)

@yeosxxx