#deep inside the planet

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

The Inspector, Belinay and the security team land on a barren planet that appears to have been completely strip-mined,

yet there’s an operational mine deep inside the planet, which is what the security team has been sent to check into.

[rubber-glovs]

Oooohhh the urge to yap about my ocs and the world they live in......

[mikansei]

trying to figure out hsr's timeline is just pepesilvia.jpeg

when dates are labeled "AE" does that mean the WHOLE amber era, e.g. 2157 AE is the 2157th amber era, which itself lasted anywhere from 76 to 240 years?

was the swarm disaster in the 1300s AE ~770 whole ass amber eras ago (e.g. 60,000-180,000 years ago) from the present in 2157 AE, because that is an insane length of time?

the xianzhou fleet set sail in search of Yaoshi ~8000 years ago (whose years in what system???), and Yaoshi didn't exist during the swarm disaster, so is there just a huge gap between 60k-180k years ago & 8k years ago?

but the founding of the IPC is listed as occurring btw 1357-1387 AE, involving the same people who were presumably mortal, pre-Yaoshi, and didn't live for thousands of years, so that HAS to be measured as 30 years and not 30 amber eras?

but also the IPC claims one of those people contemporary to the swarm disaster is definitely still alive??? i mean sure they could mean it symbolically or sth, but man

man.

i understand the history fictionologists now. i too am about to start just making shit up

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

sharp objects rewatch done, onto true detective s1 rewatch (succession rewatch next)

[spocks-kaathyra]

when the weed starts tasting like the realization that I'm still deeply lonely and I'll never be loved how I need and it's selfish of me to even want it

[draculacunt]

not bad for just my fingernails

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

Deep inside an alien planet, something is waiting.

The Inspector and Belinay will have to dive down to confront the terror below and save the lives of those around them if they are to see the light of day again.

[gossamyrrh]

okay…… can we please talk about alien boyfriend!choso and intimacy….

he doesn’t quite understand the way humans interact—finds it a bit peculiar, to be specific—since on his planet all communication, whether physical or verbal, is through frequencies.

hence, why the first time you hug him he’s…appalled. lets out a shocked “hmm?” as you wrap your arms around him, his own stiff at his sides as you meet him chest to chest.

you have to explain to him that humans do this to show fondness. affection. he, of course, lets out a confused trill.

“it means i love you, choso.”

that, he understands, and it makes him hum softly. something like a purr, as he wraps you in his arms and mirrors your previous action (albeit with much more force than necessary. but he’s learning.)

and he grows from there.

from then on out, alien boyfriend!choso begins to experiment with intimacy and touch. sometimes, he’ll run his fingers down the slope of your neck and shoulders, along the curve of your cheek, before he hesitantly follows it with a trail of kisses. some quick, others long and wet—with teeth.

he spends most his time touching you. gaining the courage and deftness to venture the rest of your body (the soft swell of your breasts, the planes of your stomach), which he quickly learns are far more sensitive than he would’ve thought. pulls little gasps from the depth of you.

so, imagine his surprise when he slips a little further.

he’s grazing along your skin per usual—the soft flesh of your inner thigh—but this time his fingers venture a little too far. the intention wasn’t sexual, you know. he’s just curious! but your body writhes all the same, legs clamping shut around his hand, hips lifting into his touch, cunt throbbing.

and he lets out a little warble. head tilting as he does it again, watches as your breath hitches and you let out a strangled moan.

“cho—”

he chitters, and you know he’s curious as to what’s wrong. “d-don’t do that. it—”

but you cut off when he does it again, just to test.

and oh.

his eyes widen, fascinated, and he stills for half a second, absorbing the way your thighs jerk—the way your chest rises and falls so quickly. his ears twitch, registering the shift in your breathing—the frequency of it. the way your heartbeat pounds against your ribs.

you’re warm, he notices. warmer than before.

choso lets out another soft chitter, tilting his head as his fingers move again—this time with purpose.

it’s still careful—experimental—tracing slow, aimless patterns across your folds, dragging through the slickness that he doesn’t quite understand but is so intrigued by. his brows furrow as he spreads you apart with just the lightest press of his fingers, feeling the soft give of you, the heat, the way your body reacts before you can even stop it.

your hips twitch up, seeking.

and that makes something in his chest rumble.

���hrrrggmmm.”

with narrow eyes, his other hand finds your hip and presses down, pinning you in place as he continues. you make a strangled noise this time, something between a gasp and a whimper, and that—

that makes him shudder.

a low, rattling sound vibrates from deep in his chest, and his shoulders tremble—arms lock. his fingers work faster now, sliding through your slick with more confidence, curiosity morphing into something more intentional. primal.

“cho’!”

you claw at his forearm, nails digging in, your lips parting in something breathless, something desperate. but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t even hesitate.

because he wants to understand.

he needs to.

his fingers slip lower, and when they find your entrance—when they push just the slightest bit inside—your back arches.

a sharp inhale. a high, keening sound that makes his eyes darken.

his ears twitch at the shift in your voice, pleasure laced into every breath. and he thinks—he knows—he’s doing something right.

choso chitters again, pleased, head tilting as he slowly sinks his fingers in. your walls flutter around him, your thighs threatening to snap shut, but he doesn’t let you. his grip is firm, controlling, holding you open so he can keep watching—keep feeling.

because this is new.

this is good.

he moves his finger in and out, and the sounds you make are sharper now, gasping moans that make a familiar heat in his belly coil tighter. his fingers move instinctively, mimicking the rhythm of your hips, learning the way you react—what makes you squirm, tremble, break.

and then he finds it.

that one spot inside you that makes your entire body tremble.

he freezes, stunned, absorbing the way your breath shatters, the way your nails dig into his skin so desperately.

then, slowly, deliberately—he presses there again.

and you cry out.

and his grip tightens.

his fingers curl just right, his pace steady but firm, pressing, circling, exploring. he chitters low in his throat, fascinated by the way your legs shake, your breath hiccupping into something uneven, something wild.

you’re close—he doesn’t know what that means, not in words, but he feels it.

feels the way your body tightens, the way your slick coats his fingers, the way your heartbeat pounds against his palm when he presses against your stomach to hold you down.

you writhe. you beg—though he doesn’t understand the words, only the need in them.

and then, suddenly—

it happens.

your body locks up. a strangled moan rips from your throat, your thighs clamping around his hand as the heat inside you shatters. he feels you pulse around his fingers, slick gushing as your body trembles violently beneath him.

choso freezes.

eyes wide. breath heavy. completely stunned.

for the first time since he started, he hesitates.

because what—what was that?

you’re panting, wrecked, head lolling to the side as aftershocks pulse through you. he feels it. feels the way your body twitches, the way you sigh, the way your entire frequency shifts into something slow, sated.

and then he realizes.

…he did this.

a slow, deep hum rolls from his chest. his fingers slide from you, slick coating them, still warm. he studies them, the way they shine, how they tremble just slightly from what he’s done to you.

then, experimentally, he brings them to his lips.

his tongue flicks out, curious.

and the sound he makes when he tastes you is deep. dark. possessive.

because now—now—he understands.

and he wants more.

part two here !

[xazse]

Bull Hybrid sukuna?👀

HELLOO! It’s been a while since I’ve posted I apologize for that I’ve been kinda busy so please accept this for right now! Love ya! (Sorry it’s so short my loves)

BullHybrid!Sukuna x CowHybrid!FemaleReader

BullHybrid!Sukuna is a big mean helping hand on the farm, you and the other cows stay far away him. Everytime he’s brought up the girls will always say how he just shrugged them off, even when one of them approached him whilst he heat, he didn’t seem the least bit interested in breeding, even the farmer is a little worried: not wanting his strong genes to go to waste.

That’s what everyone thinks, that you stay away from him as well but that’s completely the opposite.

He welcomes you with open arms everytime you manage to wander near his little home far out back, he’s gotten used to you needing a little good fuck out of him and he willingly gives it to you.

He discards you of those little shorts you wear in favor for looking at your sopping cunt, it’s amazing how little he does to have this much effect on you. Sukuna isn’t nice to you when he’s balls deep inside of you. He’s mean as fuck sliding his cock in and out of you over and over again.

He’s so mean, grabbing your tits like they aren’t the most sensitive things on the planet, he ignores your small pleas to let up a little, it just spurs him on, spurs him on to suckle on what little milk you have left for the day. With your cunt sucking him so greedily how can he not give you exactly what you want?

He drags his toned self agaisnt you to drag more out of you, you know you’ll be so bruised down there: unable to see him again for at least another five days.

[mymoongirlreadings]

Placements That Often Get Objectified Throughout Life

These placements typically attract a lot of attention often without trying whether they want this attention or not. These placements can repeatedly be desired or looked at in a lustful way and not taken seriously or seen for who they really are. These people could experience other people objectifying them due to others lusting after them, desiring them or projecting onto them. They can run into feeling objectified because of their looks, appearance, aura, powerful influence & their energetic powers

Leo placements - These people are one of the signs that get the most attention because of their powerful & youthful aura that radiates. Leo energy is childlike, fun & often times lighthearted energy naturally and can treat them like performers and not the emotionally vulnerable & deep people they are as well

Pisces or Libra Moons (especially in 1st or 7th House) - These moons tend to mirror what others want to see, and people often romanticize or idealize them in ways that don’t allow for their full humanity to be witnessed.

5th House placements - The 5th house is the house of dating, flings, orgasms & pleasure and these people often can get a lot of attention because they emulate joy, they shine & accept others for who they are. These people can often be so unserious that others may feel like the 5th houser won't care what they do, but they deserve to be taken seriously too

Neptune in the 1st, 5th or 8th house - Neptune can be where people project their fantasies onto us, and these houses deal with first impressions & sexual energy. They're often seen as muses to others but not always truly seen

Venus in the 1st House or Venus Conjunct the Ascendant - These natives are often seen as walking embodiments of beauty & can be sexualized or adored at first sight, sometimes without people trying to get to know who they really are on the inside

North Node conjunct Mars - this can involve a life path that includes learning about all aspects of Mars, the dark & light side of sexual appeal, power, etc

North Node conjunct Lilith - this can involve a life path which includes learning about all aspects of Lilith, the dark & light side of sexual independence, sexual power, etc

8th House Placements - These are deeply magnetic & mysterious people as well as often sexualized for their intensity or perceived as “seductive” even when they’re not trying to be. There’s a subconscious draw to these people that can lead others to obsess over them or feel entitled to their energy

Mars-Venus Hard Aspects (Conjunction, Square, Opposition) - These aspects radiate sexual chemistry and magnetism. People often pick up on the inner tension and may objectify the native through that raw energy. Especially true when in Scorpio, Leo, Taurus, Libra, Pisces or Aries placements

Chiron in the 8th house - this can be a core wound around feeling desired & objectified

Chiron conjunct Lilith - Megan Fox has this placement, it can represent a core wound around feeling desirable & objectified

Black Moon Lilith at 1, 5, 8, 13, 17, 20, 25 or 29 degrees - these degrees are associated with sexual appeal & degrees that naturally receive a lot of attention

Mars at 1, 5, 8, 13, 17, 20, 25 or 29 degrees - these are the erotic degrees & are noticed for their sexual & sensual appeal

Sun at 1, 5, 8, 13, 17, 20, 25 or 29 degrees - these are the erotic degrees & are noticed for their sexual & sensual appeal

Rising at 1, 5, 8, 13, 17, 20, 25 or 29 degrees - these are the erotic degrees & are noticed for their sexual & sensual appeal

Lilith in the 1st, 7th, 8th or 10th house or aspecting Ascendant/Midheaven - Lilith's energy is undeniably irresistible and often desired by many for the integration of dark feminine energy but is also known to be demonized, suppressed & often a target for her powerful sexual independence & self-defined magnetism

Scorpio Rising / Midheaven - Pluto is the planet of subconscious desire. These people attract a lot of eyes, jealousy, desire & even obsession sometimes from others, especially for their appearance/aura. They can receive a lot of sexual attention (again, unwanted or wanted) even if they want to be private because of their subconscious affects

Aries Rising / Midheaven - This is the sign of power and sex appeal in the location of physical appearances, first interactions and who we are. The signs associated with sex are often times associated with physical appearance, which can lead to being objectified quicker or more than other placements

Pluto in the 1st house or 8th house - these people subconsciously carry a desirable energy and others subconsciously feel it. It can lead to being objectified for their magnetism & their sexual energy, which is a natural part of them

Uranus in the 8th house - I find Uranus can choose the route of freedom, be very influential & powerful in the house it is placed, meaning they can really embrace & crave liberation in their sexual freedom, which can give others the opportunity to objectify them based off of this

Chiron in Scorpio or at 8 or 20 degrees - this can be a core wound around feeling desired & objectified

Mars aspecting Ascendant - similar to Aries Rising and Mars conjunct North Node

Mars in the 12th, 1st or 2nd house - Their sexual nature, sexual power & sexual appeal are often subconsciously felt; it's one of the first things people notice or it's one of the skills they possess

Vertex in the 8th aspected harshly - this can talk about fated experiences and exposure to themes of sexual matters, power dynamics, intimacy & vulnerability which can include being objectified in the process

Mars opposing Saturn - I found this was common in popular celebrities who are often objectified by the public. Whenever Saturn is in opposition to something in the birth chart, it can represent opposing authorities and a lack of respect from others involving the sign & house of the opposing planet. This can manifest as a lack of respect involving sex appeal

Libra Venus, Mars, Stellium, Libra Rising, Libra Midheaven or Libra Chiron - They have a natural sensual nature, they’re charming & they are easy on the eyes. Because of their mirroring abilities, attention to detail & peaceful nature, people can often confuse how they beautifully express as an invitation or flirting without taking into consideration what the Libra native actually wants

[monstersholygrail]

Yandere Alien has seen you at clubs all around the city. The way you dance like nobody is watching, and to your credit most aren’t. But he is. He’s always watching. He can’t seem to look away from you, in truth.

Leaving him to hide in the shadows waiting to see which club you and your friends will hit up next. Forcing him to hack into your accounts with his advanced technology and read all your messages for future plans. But no matter what he just can’t find it in himself to go up and finally claim you as his mate.

He’s drawn to you, that’s for certain. His eyes always stuck on the way your plush frame moves, giving him no choice but to drool over you. You have to know he’s watching. You must be doing this for him, your dance moves far to perfectly match his planet’s mating rituals.

The next time he sees you at the club, he decides that he’s gotta act and he has to do it now. He sees you just as the song changes. And then you’re doing that dance that reminds him exactly of home and he feels his cocks twitching in his pants. His eggs building up inside of him from the sight of you alone.

Fuck, he can’t do this. Not sober. So he heads to the bar and downs who knows how many shots. He honestly lost count. He drinks until the world spins. For a moment it’s almost as though he’s back in space. That’s when he finally gathers the courage to go to you. He stumbles his way over, careful not to crash into you. He’s been dreaming about this for so long, he can’t mess it up now.

He joins you in the mating dance just as he’s always wanted to. A long sigh of relief leaves him as he does. Like some part of his DNA has finally clicked into place. Fulfilling his kinds purpose of finding a mate. His heart soars once you notice him and instead of rejecting his joining, you dance back into him.

Grinding your deliciously plump ass against his cocks. A low groan leaves him as his hands settle on your wide hips. He lets you feel exactly what he’s working with, showing off and moving to the next stage of the mating ritual.

By now you have to know what you’re doing. There’s no denying the way you’re making him feel. He’s being so obvious about it. The way he claws at you, desperately pulling you closer, aching to be inside of you already. The way he wards off other potential mates, snarling at them over the music till they understand you’re taken. And the way his scent perfumes the air, attempting to mix with yours to prepare your body for his eggs.

You respond to it all so perfectly just like he knew you would. Each time you rock back into his hips and lean into his embrace he’s more and more certain you’re meant to be he. So he really isn’t all that surprised when you invite him back to your place. It’s all going according to his people’s rituals.

The rest of the night was a euphoric daze. A blur of limbs tangled together till he didn’t know where he ended and you began. Hips snapping together furiously in total sync in a way no one had ever felt before. It was the best fuck of his very long life and he knew no one else would ever be better than you. You were his mate after all.

And the deal was sealed as you both finish together, his eggs spilling deep inside of you where you’re most warm. They’ll be safe there until they’re ready to hatch, till you can all be a family.

Now he simply keep you safe, make sure you accept his eggs and the future as his mate that awaits you.

[miajooz]

here me OUT

ellie teases the reader and edges her too much so she gets up and locks herself in the bathroom to finish the job herself. ellie begs at the door for her to forgive her and let her do it. the rest is up to youuuu

Give it to me, Baby ⋆˙⟡

warnings ⋆˙⟡ Smut (obviously) multiple orgasms, masturbation (both), fingering (r!receiving), strap use (r!receiving), thigh riding (e!giving), edging, worshiping, praise, swearing. SUBTOP!ELLIE

wc ⋆˙⟡ 7.2k

Ellie was never really one to deprive you of pleasure—no, that wasn’t her style at all. In fact, seeing you shaking and writhing in pleasure was her favorite sight. Maybe because she loved the way your jaw went slack, or maybe because she loved the fact she made you react that way. Regardless, she was dumbed down to a complete fool who loved watching you crumble when she made you feel like you were on another planet.

Though, it wasn’t in a freak-dominant way you may think—it was different. Ellie enjoyed the fact that she could make her girlfriend feel so good, that came with the visual aspect of seeing you orgasm. It proved that not only could she love you, but she could please you as well

Ellie was a slut for hearing you egg her on. She loved when you made requests, told her what made you feel best—anything of that nature. Hearing you tell her how good she made you feel could make her finish from the littlest amount of friction—differing from your situation, where you were stuffed with her fingers or strap.

She thought about edging before, but felt as if it would be too cruel. Of course it sounded hot in retrospect—but it still wasn’t her style.

Yet when she heard you ask her to do it, she couldn’t resist you. Sure, it sounded a bit strange—but trying and wanting new things was only natural! Especially in sex where it’s more fun that way. So, she agreed.

How Ellie got carried away with this new idea was completely beyond her. She did it once, hot enough! You were ready to finish now, in fact, you were losing your mind from the first time she ripped your orgasm away.

Second time? Thats fine..maybe she felt as though she should build your pleasure up as much as she could. Torturous but fair.

Third time? Okay, now you really needed to cum. This was getting to be far too much. The first two times were already to much—yet she kept it pushing. She kept depriving you of that release you craved with every fiber of your being.

Fourth time—you were in shambles. By this point you were crying from how badly you wanted to finish. Your wetness was all over your thighs, your ass, the bed, and even Ellie. She seemed to feel bad for edging you four fucking times, her hand had reached down to cup your cheek tenderly. But you were not having it, the need to feel that tension in your lower abdomen snap was much stronger than any other feeling. There was stronger feeling in your hold, all the blood rushed down and made it all the more torturous.

That’s how you found yourself locked in the bathroom, sitting on the floor by the tub with your fingers between your thighs. You were circling your clit with a little too much desperation, all you could think about was how amazing you’d feel when you came.

But it wasn’t peaceful—Ellie was outside the bathroom door. She was knocking on it desperately, her voice sounded needy and guilty. You could practically see the remorse on her face, even though she was behind a closed door. You just knew what her expression looked like, it was all panicked—her eyes filled with a deep kind of yearning.

And you were right.

You tried to tune it out, but even when you shoved two fingers inside yourself and the sound of squelching echoed through the room—her voice was louder.

“Baby, please. I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll let you cum. Please just come out here.” she pleaded, knocking softly on the door. She felt absolutely terrible for getting ahead of herself, but she just couldn’t help it.

The way you would desperately rut your hips against her finger after every time she ripped an orgasm away from you was absolutely intoxicating. It was unfair and dangerous how much that turned her on.

So, yeah—she got carried away. But she was ready to make up for it, she wanted to make you cum as many times as she didn’t let you. Four times was a bit greedy and ridiculous. But she had a strap, a tongue, and a desperate, psychological need to please. A need she couldn’t just shove down, she was in shambles too.

How could she cope with the loss of not seeing you cum? No, that was too much. The thought alone made her voice even more distressed and her knocks a bit louder.

“I’m sorry, I swear I’ll make you feel so good. I’ll give you the best orgasm of your life—the best four orgasms of your life!” she pleaded, trying her absolute hardest to coax you off the bathroom floor and into her arms. “I’ll never put you through that again, I’ll fuck you until you’re limp. Just how you like.”

Her words had almost the opposite effect, the way she was begging to fuck you and make up for her actions—or lack there of—made your fingers move faster and your breathing become more labored. Ellie could hear it, she could hear the way you were getting yourself off. Maybe if you came once, you’d give her more at her own hands.

So, she kept talking.

“Please, I need you so bad. You wanna feel good, yeah? I can give it to you, baby.” she begged, only lightly knocking on the door now so you could hear every single word. Or maybe so she could hear your choked out gasps and the way your chest heaved.

You let out a pathetic moan, the type of moan that crawled its way out of your throat when you thought you could keep it in. But it wasn’t a secret what you were doing.

Not when the humiliating, wet, sloshing sounds coming from your pussy were bouncing and echoing off the walls. The sound was all around you, but you tried to imagine it was Ellie doing this to you. You tried to pretend she was finally satisfying you, and the voice in the background was her talking you through it.

So yeah, it wasn’t secretive.

Not when the sound of your sweet moans made Ellie reach down her own pants and work at her own clit.

Not when the sounds coming from that bathroom were downright dangerous, downright torturous to your pathetic girlfriend outside.

Not when she was touching herself to the fact you were touching yourself. It’s crazy how things like this come to be when two people are horny enough. Or maybe it’s because you were both deprived in a way—a differing way, sure, but you were both struggling with a desire to have each other.

“Please, please. I need to see you cum, I jus’ wanna see it.” she pleaded, her voice sounded all breathy and nearly whiney. “Fuck, please. I’ll do anything you want me to. Anything.”

You let out a particularly loud moan, getting off on her words so much to the point of insanity. Who knew such deprived horniness and breathy dirty talk could have such a big effect. Maybe it didn’t, but after being refused an orgasm four times—it didn’t take much to affect you.

Ellie cursed under her breath, two fingers working at her own dripping pussy, maybe that’s the thing you didn’t differ in. She was pumping her fingers in and out of her sopping hole, other hand on the door for support. She was a mess, sweat dripping down her forehead, both her fluid and the leftover coating of yours mixing inside her cunt, her jaw slack—it was a sight, but not one you could see behind a closed door.

But surely you could imagine, right? Surely that got you off—a lot.

“I can fuck you with my fingers first, I’ll make you cum so hard and stretch you out so good. You’ll be seeing stars, I promise.” she tried to assure you, both your fingers working desperately in your own pussies, buried knuckle deep. “And I’ll do it right. Since—since you’ll cum, You know?”

What a dork. God, you were in love. You also knew she was stumbling over her words from fingering hers led so aggressively. You could hear the wet wounds through the door.

Then she continued, “You’ll be all stretched out, right? Then maybe I can fuck you with the strap—any position you want. I’ll give it to you, baby, I’ll give you anything.”

You were a hot mess by this point, such vulgar words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel a tight coil in your stomach, your breathing becoming heavier as you only got closer.

But Ellie just kept talking, continuing her ramble in description about how good she’d make you feel if you came out of that bathroom. “Please let me fuck you properly. I’ll clean you up afterwards—then you’ll cum again!” she breathed out, her breathing just as labored as yours. she was close too, filtering her mind into an even filthier state than before. “I can make it up to you, i can stuff you so good and so full.”

“So full you will miss it when you’re empty, please, please, please.”

That was the last straw, all the remaining strings holding you together had snapped, had been overwrote by a shudder of bliss that overtook your entire body. With the perfect, most calculated, but also desperate pump and curl of your fingers, you reached said bliss.

“F-fuck, Els!” you cried out, as if she was the one with her fingers stuffed inside your cunt. You wished she was, you missed those veiny, long fingers that gave you a one way ticket to heaven when she used them.

Ellie wasn’t far behind, hearing the sound of you coming undone threw her over the edge. She desperately bucked her hips against her hand, her fingers hitting that rougher spot inside her, abusing it until the overwhelming feeling of her orgasm shot through her. She rode it out, moaning like a bitch in heat and letting her palm bump against her swollen clit perfectly.

The both of you remained in your places for a moment, chests heaving and minds clouded. It took a bit for you finally come to your senses, the aftershocks hitting you like a bodily reset, it felt like the cogs in your mind were all stuck in place as you sat on the back room floor—back arched and pussy stuffed with your own digits.

You managed to scoot forward a bit, reaching your hand up to the doorknob. With a small flick of the wrist, you unlocked the door.

That click was all Ellie needed, it snapped her out of her partial jelly-brained state. With a pathetic gasp, she opened the door, poking her head in to make sure she wouldn’t hit you with the hard wood.

The sight before her made her moan, her breath coming out in small pants and her face soft but utterly needy. “Oh, baby. You’re such a mess.” she coaxed standing over you but eventually crouching down to where you were.

You let out some sort of whimper—as if you were trying to speak but unable to because of the short circuiting of your brain cells. Ellie grabbed your wrist gently, slowly pulling it away from you. Your fingers followed, they were pulled out of your soaked pussy with a coating of fluid that said enough in itself.

When your hole was left empty, you were snapped out of your thoughts. Furthermore, when Ellie put one hand on your back, and her other arm under your thighs. She lifted you up with ease, looking down at your face. You looked so pretty, she wanted that perfect face to contort into bliss, she wanted to see it.

No, she needed to see it.

Ellie carried you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, holding you tenderly and steadily against her. She then set you down on the bed with a small groan, almost immediately taking her rightful place on top of you.

Within seconds your lips were connected, the kiss was messy and passionate. Your lips crashed together repeatedly, one hand keeping her propped up and the other on the back of your neck. You wrapped your arms around her, short gasps leaving you every time your lips parted for air or to just deepen the kiss.

Her leg slipped between your thighs, pushing against your cunt softly. You proceeded to rut your hips against the surface of her thigh ever so slightly, she groaned and resisted the urge to straddle you and ride your thigh.

Ellie was kissing you with a need that couldn’t be described in words, only actions. Pornographic, pathetic moans left her as she worked her lips against yours in a way that left you craving more. A way that made you feel like the only thing keeping you in once piece was the death grip she had on you and the feeling of her tongue down your throat.

She pulled away for a brief moment, breaths shaky and cheeks flushed. Her eyes held something familiar in them, she was falling apart just by looking at your face. You had that expression on your face that made her mind fill with the most vile of thoughts. Thoughts she needed to act on.

“Oh, baby. I need you so bad. Can I please finger you again? I’ll be so fucking good to you—just tell me you want it.�� she breathed out, her lips practically gravitated towards your neck.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, soft breathes of bliss leaving your throat as you felt her kiss and suck at your throat. “I want it, Els. I need it.”

Ellie’s hands traveled down your body, kneading your breast with her free hand tenderly. She pinched your nipple and bit down on your collarbone particularly hard, making you yelp in response.

She pulled away briefly, offering you a breathy, “sorry,” before continuing. Two fingers rubbed your nipples softly in apology, along with the soft peck of the lips you earned. Eventually she pulled away and paused her abuse on your neck, just to simply stare at you.

Ellie’s eyes were so full of love, so full of emotion, admiration. They were the eyes of somebody who was mesmerized, hypnotized, enamored, all simply from the sight of you. The sight of your flushed cheeks, the hair sticking to your forehead, your naked body, all of it.

She was reminded in moments like these how much she actually needed you. She couldn’t even fathom where she’d be without this. Without you.

“Ugh, I love you so fucking much. You’re so perfect, how did I get so lucky?” she said breathlessly, a moan leaving her as she saw the look on your face. She rolled your nipple between her fingers softly, unable to break eye contact with you.

“Ellie, cmon..” you urged, mainly because you remembered the promises she made to you earlier. You knew she’d be good to you, she always was.

When she didn’t get carried away in the act of edging you, that is.

Ellie said nothing, but her actions were enough. She let her hand slide down your body further, settling them in between your thighs. she caressed the skin of your inner thighs so tenderly you were almost tricked into thinking this would be a peaceful experience.

Until the tips of her middle and ring finger found your bud, you could see the self control and restraint leaving her irises. She let out a breathy sound as she started her circling motions on your clit—moaning as if she was the one receiving it.

All you could do was look at her as her green eyes pierced your own. Ellie couldn’t look away, not when you looked at her like that. Not when there was that softness to your features when she made you feel good, not when she could sit and watch your expressions with every small but purposeful movement.

Ellie was obsessed with that, she could get high off it. Forget weed!

Ellie stoped her fingers for a moment, taking in the whine of protest you let out when she did so. She quickly maneuvered your legs further apart, you could feel her mainly focusing on one for reasons you were oblivious too. She then straightened your leg so it was hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Just hold it there, please. Don’t move, okay?” you were confused when she requested that, until she was sliding her panties down her thighs. You watched in absolute awe.

She held them delicately in her hand, before tossing them aside. Her eyes were on you again, her eyes slightly wide and her lips parted.

“Baby, what are you—“ you tried to ask, but you were cut off when she placed her wet cunt on your thigh. You shivered at the feeling, instinctively bucking your hips a bit and lifting your thigh.

“Oh, fuck!” Ellie moaned breathlessly, she wasn’t expecting that kind of friction since she told you to stay still. She panted softly, her eyebrows knitted together in way that made your neglected hole pulse.

She let her hand find your cunt again, the tips of her fingers trailing up and down your soaked slit. The whole time you held eye contact, the tension was palpable. Even more so when she slowly pushed two fingers inside you, intently watching your face.

You let out a weak sigh, moving your thigh up again so that you were both moaning together. When she curled your fingers and hit that rougher, spongy part inside you, you tilted your head back. A broken moan left your throat, as if your larynx was worn out from how much you were moaning that night. The exhaustion of phantom, pulled away cries of protest when she refused you an orgasm over and over again were lodged in there.

Ellie saw you tilt your head back, to which she immediately grabbed your face with the hand that was holding her up before and forced you to look at her. “No, no, baby. Please let me watch, I need to watch.” she pleaded, starting to pump her fingers in and out of your squelching, embarrassedly, wet hole. “You have the most gorgeous face. Especially when you’re moaning.”

You gently rocked against her fingers, making her soaked cunt slide on your thigh. Ellie’s jaw clenched as the friction in her needy clit was satisfied, she ground her hips on your thigh in response. Broken, needy moans left her as she slid her pussy over her own slick, the feeling was intoxicating and so was the sight. She worked her fingers rougher, faster, everything she could possibly do to make you squirm.

“That’s it, baby. Take it like that, you’re so unbelievably beautiful” she moaned, her eyes trained on the way your jaw went slack. Those fingers of hers were a lethal weapon, a weapon in which could make you a melted mess in a matter of seconds.

Ellie couldn’t help but ramble at the sight of your blissed out face, “Look at you, prettiest face I’ve ever seen. You’re heaven itself, everything you do is so perfect.” she whimpered, roughly fingering you and grinding against your thigh like a creature in heat. “You’re so gorgeous, can you feel the way you’re sucking me in? It’s like you were made to take my fingers. They just fit so well, yeah?”

“I wanna keep them inside you forever. It’s so warm, I can’t get tired of those sounds.”

“Fuckk me..so good, baby. It’s all so good.”

The way Ellie was talking only made you get off even more. The way she was practically worshipping you for just sitting there and letting her finger you was almost too much. Her fingers hit the perfect spot with every thrust. All you could do was take it and listen to her endless ramble.

Your hands were shaking, but you managed to reach them out and place them softly on her ass. Your bodies were so tangled up now, you were in a knot you never wanted to be untied from. You slowly moved her against your thigh, watching the way her lips parted further and her eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, god. Yeah, s’good, you’re so good to me.” she moaned, you could see the way her face crumbled as she fell apart. But it only made her want to put you in that same state, so she did.

Ellie’s fingers fucked you at a brutal pace. The wet sounds of squelching and your loud moans echoed off the walls. You gripped onto the flesh of her ass, moving her against your thigh and her own slick.

“Shit, Els!” you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut so you couldn’t see the way she intently watched you. You could feel the knot in your stomach forming, your whole abdomen felt tight and strained.

Ellie was in a similar state, she tilted her head back and desperately ground against your thigh. Needy moans crawled out of her throat, the sound of her wet cunt against your thigh and the sound of her working your hole only brought her closer.

Within seconds you were ruined. Your eyes rolled back, jaw slacked even further, pussy clamped so tightly on her fingers it was hard to move—all of it. A loud string of moans were pushed out of you as you came on her fingers, your back arched and your cunt overwhelmed.

Ellie helped you ride it out, but the way your body arched up against her pussy made her hips stutter. One last look at your fucked out face was all it took.

“I love you, you’re so perfect. Im gonna soak your fucking thigh.” she said breathlessly, the last part more high pitched as she threw her head back, her mouth stuck open as a string of curses and cries of your name were moaned like a demand, like a surrender in a way.

Your hands found their way to the arch of her back, fingers digging into the smooth flesh. But her fingers didn’t stop moving, she was too distracted by her own orgasm. You whined and clawed at her back, the overstimulation making your eyes become glossy.

“Ellie, please! Too much, f-fuck!” you cried, you were so overstimulated and sensitive it almost hurt.

When you spoke up, Ellie stopped thrusting her fingers in and out of your tired hole, looking down at you with a blissed out expression. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t realize.”

Didn’t realize? Didn’t realize she was still fingering you? That had to be some sort of earth shattering orgasm.

Ellie then pulled her fingers out of you, groaning at the wet sound it made and then the fluid layer covering her skin. She brought her fingers to her lips. sticking her tongue out and kitty licking your juices off her digits.

You watched in awe and utter bewilderment, your lips slightly parted in an attempt to say something—though you were ultimately silenced by the sight of her sliding them into her mouth. She sucked on them as if they were a candy, as if your arousal on them was some delicacy that couldn’t be wasted.

You tried to sit up to have some control in this situation, but she just pushed you back down by your chest.

“I’m not done, baby. Three more, yeah?”

Your eyes went visibly wider. Right, she already told you this. As much as you were flattered, it all sounded exhausting.

But who were you to say no to such a kind offer!

Except you were somebody to worry about it.

“Els, this is too much. We’re both going to get tired. We can pick this up tomorrow, if you’d like.” you offered, worried about her comfort more than the orgasms she owed you.

But she wasn’t even listening. She was off your thigh in seconds, leaning over to slide the drawer open and shuffle though it. You looked down at the slick layer left on your skin, groaning at the sight. It was so dangerous, it was something you adored so much it could be photographed.

Ellie grabbed an army green strap and held it softly in her hands, a stark contrast to what she planned to do to you with the damn thing. She looked at you with a soft smile, immediately shifting her focus towards the strap.

You assumed she was thinking about lube, and chimed in, “I don’t think it’ll need lube, baby. It’s—“

Before you could even fathom what she was thinking about, she put the silicone between her legs. She rubbed her wet cunt on it, getting it all soaked with her own arousal. She even shoved the tip inside herself softly, groaning as her squelching hole sucked it in greedily.

You watched in absolute amazement, your jaw slack in pure bewilderment. The sight made you let out a strained whimper, knowing that her juices would be mixed with yours when she fucked you.

When she pulled the tip of the silicone out of her pussy and examined it, there it was—lubed up with her own natural lubricant. Then, she finally moved to secure it around her waist as if it was routine, as if it didn’t make you start circling your clit as you watched.

You were speechless, how did she still have energy? You were pretty tired, but the sight of Ellie’s focused expression as she put that strap on made your head spin. Not to mention how she hurriedly forced her shirt off and threw it to the side.

You clicked your tongue, your legs still spread and your cunt still a mess, “Ellie, we can—“

“—Baby, I never said I was too tired. I promised I’d give it to you. Just let me make you feel good, yeah?” is all she said to you, her voice firm but reassuring.

Your lips parted in preparation to argue, but you didn’t. Your eyes just traveled down her body, eying the silicone that was harnessed around her hips.

“Unless you’re scared to take it, but that’s another problem we could talk about.” she said, knowing same well that wasn’t the case at all. She was only teasing, she laughed and smiled down at you. lovingly.

Ellie scooted over to you, her eyes trained on your face like usual. She hovered between your legs, shooing your fingers away from your bud and replacing them with her own.

“That’s it baby. Fuck, never seen a prettier pussy, s’perfect.” she coaxed, her voice was mainly a moan. “i’m so fucking obsessed with you.”

You simply let her circle your clit, your eyes locked on hers the entire time. You were too tired to actually start bucking your hips up, so you settled for being less desperate.

Ellie pulled her fingers away from your clit, moving them towards the silicone harnessed to her body. She maneuvered it towards your pussy, the tip parting your folds—like sticky bubblegum being pulled apart. That’s how it was visually, there was so much slick on your cunt that it made everything in that area wet and sticky.

She slowly pushed the tip in, attentively watching the way your facial expression contorted from the pleasure. She loved the way your jaw fell open, or the way you’d squeeze your thighs around her waist.

The way your eyes widened or rolled back as you tried to keep eye contact made her moan every time.

You could feel the stretch of the silicone as she slowly pushed it in, your walls fluttering around it and sucking it in visibly. Her eyes darted between yours and the way your pussy sucked it in so faultlessly. Your jaw went slack, the stretch making your thighs tremble a bit. You felt so full, straps stretched you in all angles, it’s a different kind of fullness.

“Fuck..Els..” you moaned, your voice was all breathy and airy. Airy in the same state that your brain was, all you could think about was her fucking you, her giving you all your orgasms back.

You could feel it, the mixture of her wetness and yours combined. The idea alone made you squirm and pant.

Ellie bottomed out, groaning at the sight of you below her. She bit the inside of her lip, bringing her hand up to gently cup your cheek. “Oh, baby. I stretched you out so good on my fingers, didn’t I? I know you can take this.”

You just stared at her and panted softly, clamping around the still object inside you. With a weak nod, she started actually fucking you.

Ellie started off slow, her thrusts were deep but careful—as if she was handling a delicate ceramic. A delicate work of art, something she needed to care for.

“That’s it, good girl. You’re taking me so well, baby.” she praised, she was being so gentle with you. It was typical, she never wanted to actually hurt you. Especially in such an intimate activity.

Unless you asked, that is.

“So perfect, fuckkk me..” she added, her thrusts starting to pick up in pace and intensity. Once she started she could never hold back. Ellie loved the sounds you made, the sounds your body made. She loved everything about you, in these moments just as much. Your reactions fueled her to do more, please you more, go faster, anything you wanted.

You’re hands scurried to the sheets below you, her thrusts making your lips parted—an exit for those sweet sounds to escape from. Every thrust pulled one out of you, as if she was digging for it purposely. It was like she was searching for those sounds specifically, angling her hips to wherever you moaned the loudest at.

And oh, did she find it.

You shuddered and choked out a needy moan, your eyes nearly rolling back as she hit something astonishing inside you.

“Right there, please!” you pleaded, feeling her set a perfect angle. She hit that spot over, and over, and over again. At first she was softer, trying to really activate the nerves—then she picked up the pace again.

“I hear you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Ellie started fucking you at a brutal pace, her thrusts were harsh, deep, fast—everything. You felt like you were going to tear apart, your whole body jolted from each thrust. Pornographic moans left you with every sharp movement, every calculated motion had you writhing and whining.

But her face.

Her face was so soft, her jaw was slack just from watching you take all of her like that. “Take it baby, I love seeing you spread open for me like that.” she panted, moaning at the sight. The strap was slightly rubbing against her clit, making her only thrust more frantically to chase that friction. “Please, please.”

“So perfect, you’re so unreal.” she praised, rambling like she always did when she fucked you. “I’d do anything to see that face of yours when I make you feel good. I’d do anything to make you feel good.”

Your eyes softened at her words, her pace was so brutal but her words were so loving. You were trying to speak or form a coherent sentence, but you were nothing but a moaning, panting, squirming mess.

“Els..” you managed, a breathy tone to your voice. Like the words were forced out of your lungs. One of your hands untangled from the sheets, reaching up to grab Ellie’s.

She immediately noticed and let out a soft, affectionate sigh. She grabbed your hand softly, intertwining your fingers and letting you squeeze her tightly. Her other hand traveled down to your clit, circling it to enhance your orgasm. “I know, baby. You close? Wanna cum for me?”

The way she was speaking to you and fucking you was making that familiar feeling in your stomach return. Her thrusts were powerful and meaningful, her clit getting that mind dizzying friction as well.

Not only was she giving you your orgasms back—she was sharing them with you.

You just whimpered, but Ellie seemed to understand, she didn’t change her pace at all, her hips still angling to hit your g-spot. She leaned down a bit and kissed your neck tenderly, trying to distract you from the humiliating moans leaving her. She gasped for air softly, moaning and huffing in your ear like a dog. “Fucking soak me, baby.”

As she leaned against your chest and pulled you against her, you could feel your nipples rubbing perfectly against hers. The feeling made you both gasp and shudder. This was all you needed. “Oh my god, Ellie!” you cried, the feeling was dizzying.

Ellie was just as loud as you were, her moans were relentless in your ear. She couldn’t even speak, all she could do was pathetically empty out her vocal cords’ only sounds into your eardrums.

“Ellie, Ellie! Fuck, I’m—!” a high pitched moan from your own throat silenced you, making your back arch off the bed and your head tilt back against the mattress. To your surprise—you squirted. The release soaked Ellie’s thighs. A string of curses and Ellie’s name echoed off your lips, trailing on as she helped you ride out your orgasm and helped herself approach her own.

Seeing you finish pushed her, she let out a breathy moan into your ear, squeezing your hand. She could feel it dripping down her thighs. She rubbed her nipples against yours once more and came. Her head was buried in your neck, her lungs pushing out some sort of pathetic noise. A noise she tried to suck in but failed miserably. “Shit, baby!..I love you, I love you..—so much!”

The both of you just stayed like that for a moment, panting and desperately trying to catch your breaths. Ellie hadn’t pulled out yet, she just sat there while your sensitive cunt squeezed the silicone tightly. Her head was buried in your neck, and yours was back against the mattress.

Ellie eventually raised her head, peeling herself away from your sweat covered body so your sensitive nipples could have a break. she looked down at you, cupping your cheek tenderly—even though you weren’t looking at her.

She slowly pulled out, groaning at the soft squelching sound that followed. This seemed to be a common theme. Her hands came down to steady your trembling thighs, one hand gripping the flesh and the other caressing the skin on your right thigh.

Your head was tilted back still in exhaustion, so you couldn’t exactly see what she was doing. She kneeled down over the edge of the bed, moaning at the sight of your soaked, fucked out cunt. “Stay still for me, baby.” she coaxed her breath hitting the wetness coating your poor hole.

You didn’t know what she meant, too dazed to even think. Not until she licked a long strip up your folds, lapping up all the wetness she could in one go. She ended up at your clit, swirling her tongue around the bud and sucking it softly.

You writhed.

A choked cry left your throat as she worked your overstimulated cunt. It was too much, you had just came and she was already trying to pull more out of you. You couldn’t take it, it was too much.

You tangled your fingers in her hair, weak sounds leaving you. With weak efforts, you tried to pull her head away. “Els, please! Give me a second, I can’t take it!”

As soon as Ellie heard that, she unlatched herself from your clit carefully, looking up at you to meet your weak, glossy eyes. She groaned at the sight, a crease between her eyebrows forming at her enamored expression.

“Sorry, baby. Just trying to clean you up.” she soothed, her hand gently caressing your inner thigh again. “Can I please clean you up when you’re ready? I can’t leave my girl all messy. Especially if it’s my fault.”

A weak noise crawled its way out of your throat at the tone she used with you. So soft but so undeniably sultry. All you could do was nod, the words lodged in your throat and filtered into sweet moans instead.

Ellie smiled. She smiled because she still got to eat you out after all of this. That was her favorite thing to do, even if it was more difficult to see your expression that way. The way you squeezed and fluttered around her tongue made it with it every time.

“Just tell me when.” she mumbled, kissing up your inner thigh softly. Her kisses were so soft—until she started biting and trying to leave hickeys and bite marks all over your flesh. Something about seeing those marks in somewhere so close to your pussy made her crazy. She could get herself off just on the memories of it.

She’d occasionally press her tongue against your clit, hearing the way your whines would slowly die down a bit as she waited. Eventually, you assumed you were ready.

“Ellie, I’m—“ she didn’t even let you finish your sentence. She just dived in, licking up your cunt like it was the most delicious ice cream she’d ever had. As if she was trying to devour you whole, make sure the only wetness left on your pussy was her saliva. The saliva that dripped off her tongue as she messily ate you out, as she cleaned you up and left a mess at the same time.

As if you were trading fluids. For your slick, she gave you that saliva.

The saliva you were familiar with. The saliva you could feel when your tongues would swirl around each other when you made out, the saliva she left on your neck, thighs, nipples, pussy—all of it.

Ellie licked up your cunt repeatedly, each swipe was slow but purposeful. Purposeful in the way that made sure her tongue was flat enough to please all the nerves in your clit. The nerves that would make you cum again and just allow her to clean you up again.

She pulled away for a moment, simply staring at your pussy and groaning. Her grip on your thighs adjusted, it was firmer and she even pried them open a bit wider. With ease she pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, giving you some slack so you could wrap your thighs around her head. She loved that warm feeling more than anything.

“Oh, look at that. You taste so good baby, I could stay between your thighs forever.” she said, kissing your clit softly and relishing the way your thighs would squeeze around her head desperately. “Heaven, absolute heaven.”

You still had your fingers tangled in her hair, weakly trying to push her head closer so she would start to please you again. She didn’t fight it, she licked your pussy once more and hummed against it. The vibrations made you weak.

“Fuck, Ellie. You’re so good, so good to me.” you breathed out, gasping at the feeling of her tongue splitting your labia apart, as if she was cracking open a sunflower seed and desperately trying to lap what was inside.

And oh, did she search inside.

Ellie’s tongue pressed at your opening, it was angled downwards as she teased those nerves with the tip of her tongue. Hearing the way you moaned made her continue, though. She pushed her tongue inside, the feeling was just as heavenly as always.

She started to thrust her tongue in and out of your cunt, occasionally pulling out just to suck on your clit. Even though her nose would bump against it, she just liked the way you squealed when she sucked it like a piece of candy.

You were on another fucking planet, after finishing so many times, it was like there were sparks in your body being set off with every flick of her tongue. You thought you couldn’t handle it, but it was too good to refuse. “J-just like that, please, please!”

Your moans egged her on like always, she thrusted and flicked her tongue faster, sloppily eating you out like she was starved. As if she was trying to soak up all the sweetness and juice from you that wouldn’t even satisfy her hunger.

But it satisfied a deeper kind of hunger, a hunger that only you could really satisfy. Maybe she could gaslight herself into thinking your wetness could quench her thirst!

But Ellie’s movements were still relentless, you always wondered how this girl did it. She ate pussy like nobody else could, it was the type of talent that was torture and a blessing for you all at once. You just tugged at her hair softly, thighs squeezing her head as you rocked gently against her face.

She pulled away and laughed for a moment, her chin and nose getting all soaked from your combined movements. “That’s it, sweetheart. Use my face, fucking drench it.” she coaxed, moaning and getting back to work. She found it so cute how you acted when she did this.

Ellie could feel the way your thighs trembled, the way your moans and ruts against your face just got more frantic. You were close, she knew that. She didn’t change her pace or rhythm at all, she didn’t want to ruin your orgasm or bring it on too quickly.

She had already ruined too many orgasms that night. She was almost done paying you back.

With one final thrust of her tongue, you were gone for. You desperately gripped onto her short, auburn hair—trying not to dig your nails into her scalp but failing. “Ellie, Ellie!” you chanted weakly, a sharp cry falling from your lips as you came again.

Your back arched off the bed and your head was glued to the mattress again. Your eyes rolled back dangerously far, your eyes mapping out something in the back of your head you didn’t know was there.

Ellie groaned against your cunt, helping you ride it out. She desperately lapped her tongue against your clenching hole, licking up everything she could. You were panting and twitching, squirming as she kept going. She was making sure she cleaned you up all nice and pleasantly.

You whined and squirmed further, but before you could plead she finally pulled away. She shifted, getting up so she could hover over you and look at your fucked out expression. You just stared at her, the both of you panting.

Ellie moved a strand of hair out of your face, and placed a kiss on your forehead—even though it was sweaty. “You’re so perfect, do you forgive me?” she asked, her juniper eyes falling on yours. “Do you want another one?”

You laughed softly, still trying to pull yourself together after all of that. “I forgave you after the first orgasm you gave me, Ellie. I guess I just have to adore you more.”

Ellie smiled at this like a dork, she loved sweet moments like that afterwards. As if she didn’t just make you scream her name and forget your own—it came off your tongue much softer now.

“How about we actually clean up. You know, in the shower.” she suggested, trying to find your hand so she could hold it.

“Did you not clean me up? Liar.”

Ellie laughed, “Of course I did, baby. But you’re sweaty. Plus I’m not sure you want to just leave my saliva there.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, I’ll help you up, sweetheart.”

tags!! <333 @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @hyperbabes @usuck @haithone @yunaversalluv

A/N i feel as though this is too much LMAO. let me know! enjoy!

[bootycallin]

BRING IT BACK.

basically; vi, who delivers the most lethal backshots known to man

cw: wlw. men dni. g!p! vi. unprotected sex. doggy. degradation if you squint. swearing. brief spanking. a lil ass play. implied overstimulation? mention of creampie but she cums on ur back lol. vi's down bad. briefly proofread. this is a lil short i'm sorryyy

a/n: can you tell i was excited? anyways, sevika fic coming soon. if you saw this before i apologize, i fucked something up on the formatting and had to redo it.

NSFW UTC

vi is the type of girl that likes seeing your face when you two have sex, for a multitude of reasons. for example, she likes seeing your pretty face twist in pleasure whenever she sheathes her cock fully inside of you, but she also likes keeping the eye contact. it makes sex all the more intimate, and vi prides herself in being a considerate lover. she always wants to make sure you're doing fine, and your expression is a good way of doing that.

but no story has only one side. and, neither do you, and she fucking loves your backside as well.

"shit," she groaned, growled, untamed and feral, giving ravenous, rough thrusts in and out of your sopping hole. barely gives you enough time to even moan, each thrust ripping a gasp from your throat, taking the breath away from your lungs. she's laser-focused on the way your pretty cunt swallows her girth, greedy, clenching around her so fucking tight, like your pussy never wants to let go. one hand on your waist, the other on your ass, landing a hard smack that makes you whine.

"look at that," vi grunted, grabbing at the yielding skin of your ass cheek, admiring the skin plushing between her fingers. never once does she stop, pace unrelenting. "taking my cock so well. so fuckin' pretty, baby... fuckin' love taking me from behind, don't ya? huh, princess?"

she smacks your ass again when you don't respond immediately, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"yes, viii..." you replied, in a strangled mewl, hitching your head to the side to look back at her. and fuck, if she didn't have the most fucking smug face in the face of the planet.

"yeah, fuckin' looove when i hit it from the back, don't you, babe?" vi scoffed. grabbing at your waist tighter so she could pull you back into her cock in time with her thrusts. she was in so deep, the angle making it oh-so easy for her to reach the deepest spots inside you, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix repeatedly, as bruisingly as she would kiss you.

"fuckin' love this pretty ass. shit, look at 'er," her hand just can't seem to stop squishing and squeezing the skin of your ass, running over it, feeling you up. you knew vi liked your body, but you didn't know she was this much of an ass woman.

in her defense, it's such a good angle. she's always noticed your butt, but she doesn't usually focus on it. she likes seeing your face when you fuck, but she could get used to this view. your face down, your ass up, meeting her pelvis with each thrust, how you whine and whimper at the tickle of the little red hairs that trail down her tummy and cover the base of her dick, same hairs that get slowly wetter with your wetness and hers mixing, balls smacking against your clit in a dizzying fashion.

you don't even notice her hand wandering, thumb straying, 'til it's right over your rim, prodding at your puckered hole. you keen, a hitched gasp coming from the back of your throat.

"vi, what the-hah!—"

"shhh," she shushes you, not really even giving you much of a choice but to shut up, another harsh thrust that hit right against your cervix, making you burrow your face into the plush of the bed, you two connected on every level. she starts grinding into you instead, keeping herself as deep as she could, tip practically smushing against your insides.

"it's okay, baby," she muttered, leaning down, her front nearly pressing against your back. "you'll take me, right? please, baby, gonna make you feel sooo good."

how can you deny when she asks so sweetly? a little hum of approval is all she needs to hear.

suddenly she pulls out. a smirk graces her face when you whine, a string of slick and pre connecting your cunt to her cock in a filthy scene.

she spits right on your hole, licks it just to see you squirm. her hand moves to her cock, letting out a shaky sigh as she wipes her thumb over her slit, gathering the pre-cum that built on her tip. when she feels it's enough, she aligns herself with your pussy, her thumb circling your rim. she watches as you wince when she begins dipping her thumb in, pushing her cock inside of your cunt at the same time. the simultaneous movement makes your eyes roll, unconsciously relaxing so she can push her finger in easier.

"viii..." you try to run away, but she keeps you still, grabbing tightly at your hips. you're clenching around her so tight she can barely even move.

"shh... just relax, baby. fuck, you're so tight..."

she nearly moans when your warmth envelops her digit completely. your cunt's fucking strangling her, clenching repeatedly against the base of her cock so tight she swears you're gonna cut circulation.

her next movement are robotic, drawing back from you only to slam right back in, a loud smack reverberating in the room. you swear you can feel her in your guts. she's so deep, her thumb now filling your other hole. you’ve never felt so full, and fuck, you love it.

"vi-iiii,” her name drawls out like string from your throat, the only coherent thought that you're forming being about how good it feels, how good she feels. she's also only thinking about you, about how much she wants to fill you to the brim, fuck you full of her again and again and again until it's engraved in your mind thoughts of her. 'til you're ruined, and it's engrained in that she is the one that fucks you this good, the one fucking you dumb.

"mmh? yeah? i'm listenin', baby," she's teasing. she loves how you get all huffy when she does. she knows you can't speak, not when she's pounding you into the mattress like she wants to mold your pussy for fit her cock. she spreads your ass to get more access, and fuck, the view might just be from heaven. it's obscene and so pretty and so fucking hers.

soon, that familiar knot is forming in your stomach, growing impossibly tighter each thrust. you cry out, hands hopelessly grasping at the bedsheets, your thighs spreading on instinct, back arching. vi tuts behind you, mean.

"nuh-uh," she nearly growled, grabbing your waist and pulling you right back onto her cock with a grunt. "you were beggin' for it, don't run away, you can take it, yeah?"

"vi-ii!!" you let out a pathetic cry, muscle memory only making you bounce right back against her. "shi-shit— s'much..!"

"oh, but you're taking me so well, baby," she praised, but it somehow managed to sound dangerous. vicious. "fuck, pussy's swallowing me up whole. look at her, clenchin' round me, doesn't want to let me fucking go."

her last word's punctuated with a sharp smack to your ass, and oh she relishes in the way you sob, knowing that has to leave a painful sting, which she soothes with her palm.

"vi, close...! 'm- 'm close!"

"me too baby, fuck," she groans, adjusting herself just so she can fuck into you better, her cock moving inside you, tilting at an upwards angle that makes her rub right against that little spot she knows turns your brain to mush. "gonna cum for me, yeah? make a mess, c'mon, c'mon..."

your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck, back arching like that of a cat's. if her hand didn't hold you up by the hips, you would've collapsed by now. you're leaking, your cum leaving a creamy white ring around the base of her cock, a vision she wants to be drawn into her grave so she'll never forget it. she groans, her hand lets go of you, letting you lay back down while she supports her weight on her free hand.

"fuck, fuck," she grunts in her own needy way, reminiscent of a dog with how she pants against your back, bending so she could be closer, smelling your hair. shes close, and she only gets closer when she hears your whimpers, hips still smacking against your ass as she chases her own orgasm.

"shit!—"

she finally cums, pulling out just in time to release all on your back, squirting a pretty white string right where your spine sat. she hissed a desperate string of curses, something she does to spare some dignity and not outright moan like a slut (you've told her you like when she moans, but damn it, she's the one with the cock. plus, it's not like you can't hear the whimpers in the back of her throat. not slick, violet).

her face buried into the space between your shoulder blades, she strokes her cock a few more times for good measure, collapsing on top of you when her own legs start shaking and she feels like she’s been milked dry.

you're panting, her weight over your body, sticky skin against sticky skin, sweat and cum mixing. she could care fucking less that your back's covered in her cum, and she's pressing her chest to it. if anything, she likes it. loves how her skin sticks to yours, how she can barely tell where you end and she begins.

"mhm," vi hummed, removing her thumb from your hole, huffing out a little laugh when you whimper. she wraps her big arms around you, hands smoothing over your skin. she leaves a few kisses down the back of your neck, before licking a long line over your spine, scooping up her own cum with her tongue.

"vi—“

before you can ask, she turns you around, kissing you, tongue shoved into your mouth. all you can taste is her, her cum and your sweat and just sex. you have no problem swallowing, much to her pleasure, a dumb, lopsided grin tilting her mouth up.

"let's do that again," she muttered, kissing the slope of her neck. her cock sits heavy on your lower stomach, hard. "wanna cum inside you this time."

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[aila0veyou2death]

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬

𖹭 pairing: viltrumite!mark grayson x flesh-hungry!female!reader (A.K.A warlord prince with god complex x bio-engineered monster girl built for carnage)

𖹭 TW: DUB CON, dark content, blood, gore, violence, power imbalance, swearing, possessive behavior, death, non-human biology, captivity, enemies-to-lovers trope?, face-fvcking, p in a v, size difference, breeding k1nk, dumbification, belly bulging, master/pet dynamic, overstimulation, biting, marking, p0rn with a plot.

𖹭 author's note: This fic is long, messy, heavy edited and 100% born from my horny little brain while watching Invincible Hope you enjoy :P

Silence had never sounded so victorious.

What was once a vibrant blue planet, bursting with resistance and stubborn will, now lay in ruins. Cities crumbled. Skyscrapers reduced to bones. Blood dried into the dirt...Humanity tried its best—they fought with desperation, with all the fire they could muster.

But in the end, it was never a fair fight.

The Viltrumites walked the Earth's surface like gods claiming what was rightfully theirs.

Mark Grayson—son of a human mother, molded by a Viltrumite father—flew alongside the others in silence, dressed in the same white uniform. His gaze was sharp, scanning the rubble below. He didn't blink. Didn't speak. Just watched as his people moved like a plague across the land, searching through the decay not for survivors, but for something more valuable.

Secrets. Weapons. Leftovers of mankind's final, frantic efforts to defend itself.

They scoured beneath the ash, the collapsed buildings, the bones of a world that had tried to resist. Eventually, they found it—underground bunkers hidden deep beneath the crust of a dead world.

Inside, scraps of humanity clung to life. The scent of sweat, fear, and filth hit them first. Then came the screams—raw, panicked, and pointless.

The survivors didn't beg. They knew better. They cried, they clutched each other, they tried to run.

Mark said nothing. Not a single word. He didn't interfere. He simply watched, unmoved, as the others handled it. Blood filled the halls and screams died quickly.

There was no mercy left to give. Only silence and death.

Not a single emotion flickered in his eyes. No sorrow. No pity. No guilt. Nothing.

Not even as he hovered above the charred remains of the planet that birthed him.

Earth burned. And he watched.

He had been taken away before he ever had the chance to experience what this world could have offered him—just a boy when his father brought him to Viltrum, to be raised as one of their own. As a soldier. As an heir.

There were no childhood memories to mourn. No human attachments to cloud his judgment. To him, Earth was not home. It was a mission. A conquest. Another name on the long list of worlds that fell beneath the Viltrumite flag.

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

He didn't flinch. He knew that grip—it was measured, heavy, and commanding.

He turned his head slightly, meeting the sharp, weathered gaze of his father. Nolan stood beside him, armor stained with blood and ash, his cape fluttering in the dead wind. He looked at his son, not with warmth or pride—but with the calm precision of a general addressing his equal.

Nolan's eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting from his son to the smoldering wreckage below. The quiet crackle of still-burning buildings echoed between them like a lullaby of conquest.

"It's pathetic." he muttered, voice slicing through the smoke. "The ones hiding underground. Crammed in piss-soaked bunkers, clinging to some foolish hope that their heroes would come back for them."

Mark said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"They should've surrendered," Nolan went on, colder now. "Some did. The smarter ones. But the rest?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Cowards. Hiding like insects in the dark. It’s disgraceful."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant wind and the distant creaking of a collapsed tower.

Then Nolan spoke again, glancing sideways at Mark. "We should check the GDA's underground facilities. Cecil was always hiding something. Back when I worked with him, I caught whispers—rumors of illegal experiments, unnatural weapons… even bio-creatures bred for war."

Mark’s brow furrowed slightly. "You think they actually built something strong enough to stop us?"

Nolan let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Doubtful. But who knows? If there is something down there, it could either be a useful tool… or a lingering threat. More likely, just another one of Cecil's pathetic failures rotting in the dark."

He looked ahead, eyes sharp. "Whatever it is, we can't leave it unchecked."

Without another word, Nolan lifted his hand and gestured.

From above, four Viltrumites dropped through the smoke in perfect formation, landing beside them in silence. Their white uniforms were stained with dirt and streaks of blood, but their expressions were calm and ready.

"Head to the GDA headquarters," Nolan ordered. "New York is nothing but bones now, but if they hid anything, it's down there. Deep." He turned to Mark. "We dig. We search. No stone left untouched. I want their secrets exposed and buried with them."

Mark gave a small nod and took off, the others following behind. They soared through the grey sky, silent wings of death gliding over what was once one of the busiest cities in the world.

Below, skyscrapers stood like charred tombstones, windows blown out, steel skeletons groaning in the wind. The familiar spire of the GDA building jutted out from the rubble, half of it caved in, the rest barely standing. Whatever was beneath it had remained hidden even through Earth’s last breath.

The Viltrumites landed and began tearing into the rubble like it was paper, shoving aside steel beams and broken machinery.

They crashed through steel and concrete with ease, moving deeper into the abyss beneath the ruined city. Reinforced floors gave way. Labs long abandoned passed in a blur of rusted equipment and glass. The dust thickened. Lights flickered, dim and weak like dying stars. The silence turned heavy. Tense. Wrong.

Then they found it—buried farther than any of them expected. A sealed facility, hidden beneath layers of stone and steel. Carved into the earth like something meant to stay forgotten. The air down there clung to them, thick with rot, blood, and iron.

The hallway ahead was narrow, smeared with the stains of time and something more violent. Rust bled down the walls in lines like veins. Blood left in handprints. Claw marks. Torn restraints bolted to the walls. Some of the doors were dented from the inside.

Nolan stepped forward and shoved one of them open with a metallic shriek.

WEEOO-WEEOO-WEEOO—

The alarms wailed like dying animals, echoing up every floor and spilling out into the ruined city above. Scarlet lights flooded the hallway, pulsing like veins. It was a scream. It reached the top of the building. The streets. The sky. Every Viltrumite nearby the area turned their head at the sound that's coming from crumbling structure.

And in the depths of that pulsing red light... something laughed.

Soft at first, childlike and playful.

Then it grew louder. Sharper. Hungrier.

A small figure dragged itself from the darkness of a ruined chamber, half-naked, blood-stained, nails cracked and filthy, hair tangled into a wild, matted mess. Your eyes were wide, glowing faintly under the emergency lights. Your body was trembling—not from fear, but from hunger. You hadn’t fed properly in months. Maybe years. And their scent—those clean, proud Viltrumite bastards reeking of blood under their pristine uniforms—hit your senses like a drug.

You smiled wide.

Your gaze snapped to the Viltrumites—and your pupils dilated.

You lunged.

It all went to hell from there.

The first Viltrumite barely had time to blink before you slammed into him, your fangs tearing deep into his throat. You shook your head violently, ripping out chunks of flesh like a starving beast. His scream gurgled to nothing as you twisted—snapping his neck and tearing it free with a savage pull.

You bounced off the falling body, landing on all fours like an animal, with his head still in your hands. Then you bit into it, chewing with noisy satisfaction, like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

The others quickly charged, and one swung but missed.

You dropped the head mid-laugh, and grabbed his wrist, twisted it until the bones snapped loud enough to echo. He screamed. You slammed him into the wall so hard the stone cracked. The third came next—until your claws tore through his chest and you punched into his stomach, yanking out his organs like candy from a piñata.

"Oooh, so warm~!" you cooed, blood dripping from your chin. "Fresh meat really hits hard."

Mark stood frozen, mouth slightly open. His fists clenched and unclenched like his brain hadn't caught up yet. "What the hell...?"

Nolan didn't speak. His expression was hard, unreadable. But his eyes narrowed—and he took a single step back when you ripped the body in half, gore spraying across the floor in a wet splash.

No mortal prisoner stood before them—but a demon cloaked in flesh.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall as more Viltrumites stormed in, drawn by the alarm—only to find two of their own dead, one barely clinging to life, and you at the center of it all. Blood-drenched, crouched low like a beast, surrounded by the shredded remains of their comrades. You grinned from ear to ear, fangs glinting in the scarlet light, eyes sparkling with joy.

You looked up at the new arrivals and waved with a severed hand.

"More food?" you asked sweetly, licking blood from the stiff fingers in your grasp. "Hell yeah! Looks like we're going full course for breakfast today."

Mark's stomach twisted. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He was frozen in shock, even as his fists clenched on instinct.

Nolan's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening with rage.

And then you moved again—laughing, a blur of gore and teeth as you lunged forward.

The fight erupted.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You left a trail of carnage in your wake—bodies were torn, blood still warm, the taste of Viltrumite flesh clinging to your tongue like candy. They fought hard. Harder than you expected. But not hard enough to stop you.

Some were left twitching on the ground, ribs shattered and lungs heaving. Others were little more than red pulp smeared across the concrete. You didn't kill all of them—not out of mercy, but because you were too full, too high on the rush of violence, and too focused on one thing now.

Escape.

You burst through the final floor like a cannonball, tearing through the layers of the GDA's underground like tissue paper. The red lights still flashed behind you, alarms screamed themselves hoarse. Your bare feet slammed into the cracked pavement of the surface—them you froze.

For the first time in decades, you felt air that hadn't been filtered through vents or tasted like copper. The sky opened above you—gray, grimy, sick with smoke, but still a sky. Buildings stood in disrepair, cracked and leaning, some half-swallowed by the earth like rotting teeth. The world wasn't at peace. But it wasn't the warzone you remembered either.

You stood on shaking legs—bare, blood-streaked, sun-drunk—blinking hard against the harsh, unfiltered daylight. Everything felt too big. Too open. Too quiet. You could still hear the screams of the underground, the alarms howling like dying things, the wet crunch of bone in your teeth. Blood still clung to your mouth like honey.

What happened here—?

A sudden gust of wind blew behind you—it was sharp, fast, and heavy.

Before you could fully turn, something slammed into your cheek like a meteor. The impact sent your body spiraling backward through the air, crashing through an abandoned car and skidding against the pavement before you dug your claws in, stopping yourself with a screech of broken concrete.

You snarled, wiping blood from your mouth, eyes snapping up at the figure hovering midair.

Dark hair. Blood on his fists. Chest rising and falling with tight, controlled fury.

Mark Grayson.

His eyes locked onto you, not with fear—but something worse. Cold, seething frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, twitching like he was holding back the urge to rip you apart on sight. He was scratched up, bruised, panting. Signs of your earlier encounter still painted across his skin. Behind him, more Viltrumites descended from the clouds like vultures, with Nolan among them, arms crossed, silently watching.

"Well, well," you purred, dragging yourself up to your feet with a crooked grin. "Aren't you a pretty one."

Mark didn't waste time. He charged.

You stepped aside like you were dancing, catching his arm mid-swing—but he twisted, and the two of you went crashing into the ground. His body slammed into yours, forcing the air from your lungs. You hit the pavement hard. It cracked beneath you.

You laughed.

Your legs locked around his torso, muscle to muscle, as you twisted and the two of you crashed through the skeleton of another half-standing building.

"Is this how you greet girls these days?" you breathed, grinning at him. "Tsk. No flowers? No sweet talk? Geez. What's up with men lately?"

Mark gritted his teeth, trying to overpower you.

You leaned in close, whispering against his jaw. "You always this rough on your dates, pretty boy?"

The two of you clashed again and again—flesh against flesh, teeth bared, blood spilled. The ground split open beneath your feet with every collision, debris flying, the city echoing with the sound of carnage. You were laughing—breathless, wild, drunk on adrenaline. Mark was giving you a fight, and god, it felt good.

But he was starting to slip.

You saw it in the way his chest heaved, in the slight delay between his punches. And worse—he hesitated. Just once. His gaze dropped to your mouth, flushed and slick with blood, and he flinched when you licked it slow, grinning through the chaos.

"Fuck, that hurts so good..."

That's when they invaded.

The other Viltrumites descended like mad hounds. You didn't get a warning—just the sudden weight of five bodies crashing into you mid-lunge. You screamed, thrashed, tore into one's side with your claws and sent another flying with a headbutt. One tried to grab your wrists but you quickly snapped his fingers like twigs. Another went for your legs and you sunk your heel into his jaw.

You were brutal. A machine built to kill. But they didn’t care. They kept coming.

You growled, nearly feral, muscles screaming under the strain of so many hands forcing you down. Your feet left the ground. You were held in place by sheer numbers that had your back arched and neck straining. One arm was pinned behind you, another around your ribs, another around your throat.

Then you saw... him.

Nolan.

Hovering just out of reach. Watching you with cold judgment in his eyes.

Something inside you snapped.

You lunged, with your head whipping forward like a beast. You nearly got him—teeth bared, inches from tearing into his throat—but you were yanked back at the last second. Still, it rattled them. They didn’t expect you to go for the general.

And neither did Mark.

He moved without thinking and slammed into you with enough force to break a mountain, shoulder in your gut, arm locking around your chest as he drove you to the ground.

"Stop!" he shouted, his breath hot against your skin.

You twisted in his grip—then bit down. Hard.

Your sharp teeth sank into his forearm, tearing its skin, ripping the muscle. He shouted, blood running warm across your tongue. You could taste him—Viltrumite blood, rich and violent, flooding your mouth like a reward.

He yanked his arm back and without pause, drove his fist into your jaw—forcefully.

You were still smiling as you went down, lips smeared in red. "...fucking awesome." you muttered breathless, the taste of Viltrumite blood still warm in your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as the world cracked sideways. Your body slumped and the sky above you blurred. You barely heard the other Viltrumites yelling before your knees buckled and your vision started to go dark.

The last thing you saw was Mark's face—shocked, bleeding, staring down at you like he didn't know whether to be petrified or fascinated.

And then, there were arms around you.

Strong and steady. Definitely his.

Mark caught you before you hit the ground completely, lowering you into his hold like he wasn't still bleeding from your bite, like he didn't just knock you out cold. You didn't feel the relief in the others, or the weight of containment cuffs snapping around your wrists. All you felt was warmth, before darkness swallowed you once again.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You stirred with a groan, pain blooming at the base of your skull. Your body ached, heavy and sore like you've been hit by a planet—and maybe, in a way, you had. Your thoughts came sluggish, swimming through the fog in your head. Voices echoed around you, distant and distorted at first, like they were bouncing off the walls of your skull. But slowly, they grew clearer—they sharpened into words, whispers, and conversations.

Your eyes cracked open.

Bright lights seared into your vision.

You were kneeling.

Both knees pressed against freezing tiles, with your legs spread apart as if it forced open with no mercy. Thick restraints clamped tightly around your wrists behind your back, made of some dense, unyielding alloy that even your strength couldn't break through. The cold kiss of metal crawled over your spine. Chains dug into your skin where you had already been bruised, holding you still.

You were naked.

Completely.

There was no cloth, no covering—nothing to shield you from the cold or the sea of eyes watching from every corner of the stadium. The air prickled along every inch of your exposed skin, and the lights were focused solely on you, spotlighting every inch of your body—every inhuman line, every unnatural curve, every scar and every mark. Every part of what made you a monster was put on display.

A muzzle clamped tightly over the lower half of your face, molded hard against your jaw. It silenced you completely. No speaking. No biting. Just the soft rasp of your breath through your nose, quick and sharp, barely enough to calm the burn in your lungs. Your mouth was sealed shut.

A low growl rumbled from deep in your chest.

The sound cut through the low hum of voices like a blade.

Conversations stopped. Heads turned. The entire stadium fell silent.

Dozens—no, hundreds of eyes snapped to you.

They were all Viltrumites.

All of them. Rows of them, seated in ranks dressed in pristine white uniforms, most of them were cloaked—like some twisted cult of gods looking down at their captured beast. Their faces were cold, observing, and judgmental.

You shot the crowd with a venomous glare.

Then, one of the seated figures stood.

"It seems the beast has finally awoken."

The voice cut clean through the silence—calm, commanding, sharp as a blade. "Good."

General Nolan stepped forward, his presence heavy like gravity, each step deliberate. The stadium seemed to tense beneath his weight. He didn't look away from you, not even once, not even while the crowd of white-cloaked Viltrumites leaned in, listening. Hanging on his every word.

"This is the weapon that slaughtered twenty-seven of our finest." he announced, voice crisp and brutal. "An Earth-born experiment that crawled out of her hole after decades of silence. Not a soldier. Not a warrior. A threat. One that’s proven herself to be something far more dangerous than even a Viltrumite..."

You weren't listening to him.

Not really.

You didn't care for his dramatic little speech. All you cared about was the weight of the chains digging into your wrists and the deep, familiar ache that sparked in your muscles. You shifted on your knees, raw skin scraping against the cold metal floor as you tested your bounds again. Harder. Rougher. You knew they were watching. You simply didn't care.

Your breath came fast through your nose, the muzzle clamped over your mouth keeping you from speaking, biting, screaming. It was tight. Containing. But it wouldn't hold you back forever.

A low growl rumbled in your throat.

Then came the footsteps.

One by one, other Viltrumites stepped forward—soldiers, elites, survivors. Each of them wore the scars of your fury like badges of shame. Torn uniforms, burned skin, bruises blooming down their jaws and ribs. Some limped, others stood stiff and bloodied. They looked like warriors who had fought something far worse than their own.

They stood beside Nolan, forming a silent wall of evidence, an undeniable proof of your destruction.

"...To those who doubt what she's capable of," Nolan continued, gesturing toward them, "Let these survivors be your reminder—of the massacre she unleashed. Of the destruction this monster has caused."

A ripple of hushed awe and unease moved through the stadium. Even behind disgusted whispers and down-turned mouths, you could feel it.

Fear.

Respect.

Even some admiration.

They weren't just looking at you like a monster. No. Some of them were looking at you like you were unstoppable.

A force of nature.

You kept your head high despite the chains, the cold, the exposure. And as your gaze flicked across the stage, your eyes locked on something else—someone else.

Pretty boy.

He was standing just behind Nolan. Silent and stiff.

His face was hard to read, his jaw tight, but his eyes never left yours. Even after everything, he wouldn't stop looking at you.

And then there was Anissa, standing beside him like a shadow. Arms crossed, chin lifted slightly, like she was trying to figure you out. Judging and calculating. Not impressed—but not dismissive, either. She whispered something to Mark, a sharp little comment masked behind a smirk.

He didn't look at her. Didn't react. His gaze was locked on you.

And despite everything—despite the bruises on your body, the metal biting into your wrists, the weight of every eye watching—you smirked behind the muzzle.

Even now. Even here.

You could feel it.

That heat in your veins.

That wild pulse in your chest.

That hunger.

And he was still watching.

Their voices rose around you—cold and calculating, debating your fate like you were some unruly creature rather than a living being. The Viltrumite council spoke in harsh tones. Some suggested you be kept alive for study, molded into a living weapon. Your strength was too rare, too valuable to waste. You were a weapon, after all—unrefined, but powerful. Others disagreed. Their voices were sharp with caution, insisting you were too dangerous, too unpredictable, as you had already killed too many.

But then, the conversation shifted. It spiraled—quicker than your still-throbbing head could follow. But you caught enough.

They weren't talking about justice anymore, or even punishment.

A new thread had slithered into the room, it low and quiet at first. A suggestion that made your skin crawl.

"She's female." one of the council members said plainly, studying you with clinical detachment. "And clearly fertile."

Your jaw clenched behind the muzzle.

"She may be human in origin, but her body’s resilience and strength—those are above even standard Viltrumite females." another added. "Breeding with her could produce a hybrid that surpasses us. A child born of her might become the key to furthering our strength."

Disgust curled in your gut.

Breeding.

Shit. They were seriously discussing breeding you.

You could feel the weight of their eyes on your bare form. They weren’t just looking at a criminal anymore. They were evaluating you like a broodmare.

The female Viltrumites didn't object either. One of them tilted her head and added, "Her frame suggests high reproductive capability. The musculature, the hips, her bone density—everything aligns."

You wanted to laugh. To rip the muzzle off your face and tell them to shove their breeding program up to their asses.

But all you could do was breathe. Controlled, but furious.

And yet… somewhere under the heat of that fury, something twisted—a perverted, morbid curiosity coiled in your gut.

Breeding you?

Like you were some kind of baby-making machine.

You were trained to kill. Built for war. A monster, they said—and now suddenly, they were talking about your hips, your womb, your usefulness as if you were nothing more than a vessel. A thing to be filled, broken, used to build their empire from the inside out.

Your stomach turned. The word fertile echoed in your ears like a curse.

What were you now, a walking cradle? A fucking incubator for the Viltrumite legacy?

And worse—part of you wondered. What would it even look like? You, monstrous and wild, collared and panting beneath someone they chose for you. With your body betraying you. Bearing Viltrumite blood. Creating something terrifying. Something worse.

Something like you.

Your eyes narrowed, seething through your lashes.

You weren't going to let them own you.

But gods, the idea wouldn't leave. It curled around your brain like smoke. Sick. Curious. And Violent.

They didn't want to kill you.

They wanted to breed you.

A tall, scarred warrior stepped forward from the group of survivors—his arm still in a sling, a fresh wound slashed across his chest.

"If she is to be contained," he said, "then she must be broken. Handled. Someone will have to... train her."

The word train sent a flicker of rage down your spine.

"She won't yield to just anyone. Most of us tried, and barely survived. But according to the surviving officers…" His eyes narrowed at you. "There was one who managed to fight her back. Who held his ground longer than anyone else."

You stopped moving.

"Mark Grayson." he said.

The silence that followed was loud. Heavy.

"She responded to him. Almost like she enjoyed it." another commented. "We observed it—she was smiling. Laughing. Every time he hit her, she hit harder. She didn't want to kill him. It's almost like she wanted to play."

The crowd murmured again.

"She was having fun, and yet he still managed to injure her. To bring her down."

Mark's hands were clenched at his sides now, his brows furrowed, jaw tight. His silence said more than words could.

"She's a beast." the first speaker said. "But beasts can be trained. And if anyone is going to do it… it has to be him."

General Nolan finally turned slowly to face his son. "Mark."

Mark lifted his eyes, and for the first time, you saw the faintest flicker of conflict in them.

Nolan's voice rang clear, loud enough for all to hear. Cold. Final.

"She's your responsibility now."

"Break her. Tame her. Turn that wild thing into something useful. Think of it as… training a new pet." Nolan sharply commanded.

The word pet hung in the air, heavy and cruel.

And just like that, the decision was made.

You were no longer just a monster.

You were his task. His burden. His possession.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You were moved into Mark Grayson's private quarters two days later.

You were escorted like an animal—your wrists locked in thick cuffs, a black gag secured tightly between your lips, and a gleaming high-tech collar locked around your neck. It pulsed faintly red, a constant reminder of the shocks it could deliver. You had already learned its bite. The plain white prisoner uniform clung to your body neatly but it couldn't hide the tension in your muscles or the defiance in your eyes. Your hair had been washed, but left wild and tangled, like they hadn't cared to do more than rinse you clean.

His father led the procession, flanked by five other Viltrumites. They walked in silence—grim and towering, like they couldn't wait to be rid of you. When the door to Mark's quarters hissed open, they shoved you forward without care. You stumbled, unbalanced, but didn't fall. You landed on your knees before him, like a stray beast dumped at the feet of her new master.

Mark said nothing.

He stood tall in his pristine white Viltrumite uniform, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. His eyes moved over you—your face, the collar, the gag, the subtle twitch in your smile. You could feel his gaze, cold and heavy, like he was judging you.

He didn't look surprised. He didn't even look particularly interested.

But he looked at you like you were his. Like you were already his.

The cage in the corner of the room was built just for you. Reinforced alloy. Thick bars. It wasn't hidden—it was a fixture in the space, something he'd clearly made room for. You were shoved inside it without grace, and the door clanged shut with a low, echoing finality.

His father said a few quiet words before departing with the others. Something about obedience. About control. Mark nodded, silent and cold, never once looking at you again until they were gone.

Only then did he approach the cage.

You were lying inside, already curled on your side like a cat. When he finally turned his gaze to you, you met it with a wink.

He stared at you with an unreadable expression. There was no lust, no hatred—just something… calculating. You could sense the effort it took him to stay composed, to look down at you and not act. You could feel the discomfort behind that stare. And you loved it.

He left you alone after that.

But when he returned hours later, the cage was torn open like it was made of paper. One of the bars was bent backward, and sparks flickered where the internal locking system had fried. You sat lazily in the center of his bed, legs tucked under you, the remains of your uniform hanging from your hips. Your upper body was bare—slick with sweat and blood, lips red from raw meat as you gnawed on something half-cooked

It stained his bedsheets. It stained your fingers.

He stopped in the doorway and stared at you for a long moment.

Then he exhaled slowly and murmured, "I really hoped you'd stay in the cage."

You licked your fingers, then flashed him a lazy grin. "I'm not an animal, Grayson."

He said nothing as he entered, stripping out of his uniform until he was half-naked. He moved toward the small kitchen like you weren't there, calm and composed, even as you followed him with your eyes, your teeth still sunk into the meat in your lap.

"Don't you have anything better to wear? Didn't my father give you something?" he asked over his shoulder.

You stood behind him now, silent, completely naked. You stretched your arms up—slowly, deliberately—exposing yourself without a single shred of shame.

"Ooh, don't like what you see?" you asked, with your voice sickly sweet.

Mark didn't turn around. "You don't get to tease me, pet."

Your smile widened. "That collar says otherwise."

And then—before you could take another step toward him—it sparked. Electricity crackled across your throat in a violent shock. You collapsed to the floor with a hiss, trembling and panting, but still smiling through the pain. He still didn't turn around.

"You're mine." he said flatly. "And pets don't speak without permission."

You lay there twitching on the floor, laughter bubbling from your throat even as your body spasmed.

You were such a problem. A walking mess of temptation and chaos. A feral, sharp-toothed creature he hadn't tamed yet. You stalked around his space like a spoiled cat—shedding blood, climbing on his things, curling up naked where you didn't belong. You didn't eat the rations he gave you. You rejected everything cooked. Mark quickly learned that the only way to keep you fed was raw meat, still dripping. And when he gave in and brought it, you looked at him with gleaming eyes like he was rewarding you.

He hated that. Hated the way you made him feel like he enjoyed your presence. Like he looked forward to your games.

You were always touching his things, brushing against him when he walked past, whispering into his ear when he tried to sleep.

"You're fun when you're pretending not to want me." you whispered one night, your breath warm against his neck. "I was just wondering how long it would take before you finally snapped."

His hand gripped your jaw tight, forcing your gaze to meet his. His thumb brushed slowly along your collar

"I will break you..." he murmured, voice low and lethal. "And you'll beg me for it."

You met his threat with a wicked smile, eyes gleaming with challenge.

Gods, you were such a naughty thing.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

Living with Mark was a war of nerves.

He didn't speak much, not unless he had to. He gave orders, not conversation. Every time he walked into the room, he expected obedience—and every time, you gave him the exact opposite.

He tried to tame you with structure. Routine. Food. Clean quarters. The cage—still bolted to the corner of his room—was meant to remind you that no matter where you roamed, this was still captivity. You were still his.

And yet, you prowled through his space like a cat. A filthy, bloodthirsty little thing with sharp teeth and mischief in her eyes.

You made a game out of pissing him off.

You ripped the sleeves off the black Viltrumite uniform he had ordered for you, claiming they were itchy—then refused to wear anything else. You slept wherever you pleased, most often curled in his bed, stretched across the sheets like you owned them. You dripped blood on his floors from your stolen snacks, purred at him in mockery, and bared your teeth every time he looked too calm. You called him "pretty boy," "master," "hot stuff" and "Grayson," depending on what reaction you were hunting for.

Sometimes, you stood right in front of him, naked and smiling, collar still glowing red.

Sometimes, he didn't say anything.

Sometimes, he did.

And when he did, it was never nice.

Still, you could feel it—beneath all that authority and arrogance, something was cracking. Every time you got under his skin, every time his jaw clenched and his fists curled, you felt it coming closer. That first fight between you hadn't just been survival—it had been ecstasy. Something deep in your corrupted instincts craved the collision again. The pain. The rush. The blood. And the way he had looked at you, panting, bruised, victorious.

You wanted to taste it again.

But Mark had been sent off-world. Called away on a brutal conquest with other Viltrumites. Rumors spread fast—it had been ugly. Ugly and loud. You could practically hear the taunts in his ears, the rage in his fists. You knew how he got when pushed too far.

So you pushed him further.

By the time he returned, there was blood on Viltrum's walls.

You had tried to escape.

You tore through six Viltrumites before they even realized what was happening. Ate one. Injured another so badly they couldn't walk. You laughed the whole time, dripping with gore, half-mad with the thrill of it. You're not actually trying to leave, not really. You just wanted to fight. You wanted to feel alive again.

Once they captured you, they threw you into one of their most heavily guarded prisons. Chained you like the monster they said you were. But not before you left your mark.

So when Mark came home—wounded, furious, soaked in blood and sweat—he didn't go back to his quarters.

He went straight to the prison.

And when the cell door hissed open, there you were. Naked again, legs casually crossed, sitting on the floor like a satisfied beast after a feast, while still wearing your collar like a choker. Your mouth was stained with red. Your arms were chained above your head, but your eyes were calm—glowing with smugness and something else.

You tilted your head. "Welcome home, pretty boy~"

He stepped inside. The door sealed shut behind him with a cold hiss, and he didn't speak. He just stared and his silence was loud.

You didn't lower your gaze. Didn't shift or flinch under the weight of it. You wanted this—you wanted that fire in his eyes, the heat of fury crawling down his spine. You wanted that unhinged thing in him to wake up. To bare its teeth. To bite you back.

You smiled, slow and sharp. "You look like shit."

His jaw tightened. The cuts on his face were still fresh. Blood streaked down the side of his neck, half-dried, and his hands were trembling from self-control.

You cocked your head, chains clinking above you. "What's wrong? Mission didn't go so well? Or are you just mad I had a little fun while you were gone?"

You let out a giggle as he moved closer. Boots echoing off the cold floor. You shifted, legs still crossed, thighs open just enough to tempt.

"You killed six." Mark said, voice laced with coldness, "Injured five more."

You smiled with your teeth. "I was hungry."

His palm cracked across your face before you even finished the sentence.

Your head jerked to the side, the taste of copper blooming on your tongue. You spat, a string of red falling to the floor between your knees, then looked up at him with a smug, bloodstained grin. "There he is…"

He stepped closer. Towering. Trembling with restrained fury.

"You think this is funny?" he snarled.

You laughed, low and taunting. "It's hilarious, actually. They cried so loud. Struggled like babies. You should've seen their faces, pretty boy." Your voice lowered to a mock whisper. "I think you're getting soft on me. Not the same Viltrumite who left me broken on a battlefield."

His eye twitched. His chest rose and fell like he was holding back the urge to throw you through the wall.

"What do you want, huh?" he snapped. "Another beating?"

You cocked your head, smile dripping arrogance. "I want to see you snap. I want the same fire that pinned me down and made me feel alive. You've been boring since you brought me here... there's no fun."

Something shifted in his face—a cold fury, flickering with something darker.

His hands moved.

He simply undid the belt of his white Viltrumite uniform, then let the fabric drop away just enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, and mean. Veins tracing the length like dark roads, the head was wet and angry.

You blinked. Frowning, your mouth twisting into a sneer. "Eww, gross—what the fuck do you think I'm gonna do with that!?"

Mark stepped forward, towering over your chained form. His hand wrapped around your collar, tilting your head back roughly.

"Open your mouth."

"Fuck you."

"I swear," he growled, leaning down until his breath scorched your lips, his voice is low and seething, "If you don't open your fucking mouth, I'll tear your jaw open and shove my cock down your throat until you forget how to breathe."

Your eyes narrowed as you watched Mark stand tall before you, his 8.5 to 9-inch cock jutting out, the swollen tip slapping lewdly against your parting lips. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, smell the heady musk of his arousal. His girthy length hovered dangerously close to your face, a silent threat and a promise of what's to come.

You opened your mouth slowly, not out of submission or eagerness, but to bare the sharp, wicked teeth you were so proudly known for. It was a challenge, a silent dare. Your tongue darted out, flicking against the weeping slit of his cockhead in a teasing caress that was barely a touch.

Mark's eyes flashed dangerously as you slowly parted your lips, revealing the glint of your sharp teeth. This was no act of submission, but a silent challenge thrown down between you. "Tuck those fangs away." he growled, his grip in your hair tightening warningsly.

You met his glare with a defiant tilt of your chin, not complying. "Make me." you taunted, your voice dripping with insolence even as his fingers dug into your scalp.

A dark snarl rumbled in Mark's chest. "Brat," he spat. His other hand shot out, gripping your collar possessively. "If I feel even a graze of those little fangs on my cock, I will snap your fucking neck. Got it?"

Before you could react, he pushed it forward, the thick head of his dick forcing your lips apart and stretching them obscenely around his girth. You gasped as he pushed deeper, your throat squeezing around its size. The tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat, making you gag reflexively.

Mark paused, allowing your throat to adjust to his size. His thumb stroked along your jawline, not a gentle caress, but a dominant, controlling gesture. "Breathe through your nose." he commanded gruffly. "You can take it."

Trapped and stuffed full, your glare was your only remaining weapon. Mark started to move, his thrusts initially slow and deliberate. Each drag of his thick length along your tongue and throat sends jolts of unwanted pleasure through you. As if your body is betraying you, you can feel your cunt pulsing, clenching around nothing as he used your mouth.

His pace increased, fucking your face hard and rough. Wet, filthy sounds of flesh slapping echoed through your cell. Drool and precum mingled, dripping down to your collar and to the floor. He gripped your hair tighter, holding your head still as he hilted with each brutal thrust.

He forced you to take his entire length, over and over, balls slapping against your spit-slicked chin. Tears streamed down your face from the relentless face-fucking and lack of oxygen, but he showed no mercy.

Suddenly, with a harsh tug on your hair, he yanked your head back and pulled out abruptly. You gasped desperately, drawing ragged breaths, thick ropes of your saliva was connected to his cock and the head of his dick was an angry red, flushed and leaking, hovering inches from your face.

It was then silent between the two of you, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing filling the tense air. His chest rose and fell, sweat beading at his temples, while you knelt there—lips swollen, throat aching, eyes glassy and unfocused from the brutal rhythm he'd forced on you.

Your head swayed slightly, lightheaded and dazed, the aftershocks of it still buzzing through your body like static. You blinked up at him, not out of defiance this time, but because your mind hadn't caught up yet—too fogged to realize he had pulled out without even cumming.

Mark grasped the metal cuff binding your wrists and, with a simple flex of his superhuman strength, tore it apart like it was nothing more than paper. The sudden release sent you off balance that you collapsed forward with a grunt, catching yourself on your hands and knees in an undignified sprawl. Before you could push yourself up, his fingers hooked under your chin, jerking your head back to meet his gaze.

A slow, mocking smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of your disheveled state. Then, without a word, he grabbed you and with a sharp, effortless motion, hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. The air rushed out of your lungs as your body collided with the hard wall of his chest, muscles shifting beneath you as he began walking out of your cell.

As you attempted to slip free from his hold, one hand gripped your rear possessively, giving it a sharp, punishing slap. The stinging pain radiated through you, a silent warning from him. You bit back a yelp, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out.

Mark walked down the corridor in heavy silence, his steps echoing ominously as he carried you like a trophy draped over his shoulder. Viltrumite guards paused to stare, their gazes lingering on your bare, used form. You could feel their eyes crawling over your skin, filled with assumptions, judgment, maybe even envy at the power play unfolding in front of them. You shot them a sharp side-glare, though the faint blush dusting your cheeks betrayed the heat pooling beneath your skin.

Without breaking a stride, Mark took off into the air, the force of his flight making the wind whip past your ears. In seconds, you landed hard on the balcony of his private quarters. He barely gave you a moment to react before tossing you onto the bed like you were nothing more than his personal possession. The moment your back hit the mattress, he was already stripping off his bloodied uniform before crawling on top of you, pinning you down with the full weight of his body.

And then his mouth crashed onto yours. It was not gentle or loving but a brutal claiming. His tongue forced its way past your lips to dominate your mouth. He poured all his pent-up frustration and lust into the kiss, one hand gripping your hair to hold you in place as he plundered your mouth.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he released your bruised lips, both of you panting harshly. "You've done nothing but push and provoke me—every damn chance you got." he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "But now? You're right where I want you."

With one swift motion, he caught both of your wrists and pinned them above your head in one large, unyielding hand, pressing them into the mattress. His body hovered close, radiating with heat and fury as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "No more games."

Mark shifted his hips, positioning himself between your spread thighs. The thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance, already slick with your unwilling arousal. "It's time someone taught you the meaning of obedience." he rasped. "And I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

With a single, brutal thrust, he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, dripping cunt. A guttural moan tore from his throat as his aching cock sank into the silken heat of your depths. Your back arched off the bed, a scream of pained pleasure punching from your lungs as you were split open on his massive shaft.

"AAHH~!"

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight..." Mark grunted, giving you a moment to adjust to his size stretching you wide. "This cunt was made for my cock." He rolled his hips, grinding against your cervix, before pulling back and slamming in again.

Each relentless thrust sent lewd, wet sounds bouncing off the walls, your moans rising higher with every slap of skin against skin. His free hand roamed up your body, seizing your breast in a firm grip, fingers digging its softness as he pounded into you without mercy.

"Aah! Aah! Aah! Fuck! Mark! Mark—!"

Mark's mouth found your neck, his lips and teeth teasing over the sensitive skin. He licked and nipped at your racing pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue, almost tenderly. Mark's lips trailed up to your ear as he continued his relentless pace. "That's right. Scream for me." he demanded, voice a guttural rasp. "Let them hear who owns you now." His hand slid from your breast to your throat, fingers wrapping around it possessively, not squeezing, but with the clear threat of doing so.

He pistioned his hips faster, each powerful thrust striking your cervix and sending bolts of white-hot pleasure spiking up your spine. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around his plundering cock, slick walls gripping him like a velvet vice. The stimulation was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards a peak.

Mark panted harshly, sweat dripping down his brow from exertion. "Take my cock. Fucking take it, you whore." His grip on your hair and throat tightened in tandem with his increasingly brutal thrusts.

He could feel your body tensing, your legs starting to quake. "No." he growled. "Don't you dare cum without my permission." To emphasize his point, he reached between your bodies and pressed down hard on your clit, pinching the sensitive nub almost cruelly.

"No! No! Aah! I-It's too much! Aah! I can't—AAHH~!" Your back arched, a scream ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your cunt spasmed and clenched wildly, milking Mark's hard cock as wave after wave of ecstasy consumed you.

Mark groaned, the rhythmic squeezing of your cunt pushing him closer to his own release. "You think you deserve to come after all the shit you've pulled? You'll be punished for this." he growled, his hips slamming into yours with a punishing force as he chased his own pleasure.

With one last, brutal thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside of you. His cock jerked and throbbed as it unleashed it's hot, thick ropes of seed directly into your spasming walls. He filled you with his essence, flooding your empty womb, until you were overflowing.

As the final pulses of your shared climax fades away , Mark collapsed onto you, pinning you into the mattress. He caught your lips in a searing kiss, more passionate and intense than the one before. When he finally broke away, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes searching yours with a dark, triumphant gleam.

"We're not done yet. You think you get to rest after cumming without permission?" he growled.

Your hazy eyes fluttered open, cheeks flushed deep red. Still breathless, you gave him a small, teasing smile as you slowly dragged your wet tongue across your lips, hungry for more.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

The night blurred into a haze of relentless, brutal coupling. Mark's stamina seemed boundless as he took you in every position imaginable, each thrust driving into you with punishing force and precision. The bed creaked and groaned beneath the onslaught, a lewd symphony of carnal lust.

You were drunk on pleasure, drowning in the overwhelming sensations of his body claiming yours over and over. Laughter bubbled from your lips, interspersed with wanton moans and cries of ecstasy. It was a stark contrast to the pain and fury of your first fight; this was a different kind of battle, one where you found yourself surrendering to the enemy's touch.

"Look at you," Mark growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he pounded into you from behind. "Taking my cock like a bitch in heat." His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, fingers sinking into the flesh as he rutted into you with wild abandon. "Such a good little pet."

He leaned down, teeth finding your ear as his hips snapped forward, striking your cervix dead-on. "You're going to look beautiful, all round and full with my child..." he murmured, voice dripping with dark promise. The filthy words sent a shiver down your spine, even as a traitorous part of you thrilled at the idea.

Your body was a canvas of marks and bruises, each one a testament to his ferocious desire. Your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust, the two slick with sweat and come. The obscene squelch of his seed sloshing inside you with each roll of your hips was the only sound louder than your escalating moans.

You lost count of the number of times he filled you, painting your insides white with his release. Your womb was flooded, as your belly starting to swell with the sheer volume of his cum. It looked as if you were already pregnant, the bulge of his seed a perverse parody of new life.

As dawn approached, Mark finally slowed, his thrusts growing less urgent as he chased his final climax. With a hoarse shout, he buried himself to the hilt, cock jerking and pulsing as he pumped you full once more. He collapsed against your back, crushing you into the mattress with his weight.

After a long moment, he rolled onto his side, spooning you from behind. Mark's strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your limp, body flush against his chest. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of sex and sweat that clung to your skin. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, gradually slowing as exhaustion claimed him.

As exhaustion threatened to pull you under into a deep, dreamless slumber, Mark's strong arms encircled you from behind, holding you close against his muscular chest. He curled around your limp body like a lover, one hand possessively splayed across the slight swell of your belly, feeling the way it strained with the heavy load of his seed trapped inside you. A look of dark satisfaction flickered across his chiseled features as he surveyed the results of his relentless claiming.

"Rest now, my love." he whispered against your ear, a tender darkness in his tone. "Close your eyes… because when you wake up, I'm going to make you mine all over again."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𖹭 please don't repost, publish, or translate this shit anywhere. You don't have the right to do that. Thank you for understanding.

Divider made by @cafekitsune ୨ৎ

[fromdove]

ㅤ ⁞ 𝓐ND 𝓨ET, 𝓣HE 𝓗EART ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ (𝓔VER 𝓢O 𝓕OOLISH) ㅤㅤ

ㅤ ⁞ 𝓦HISPERS 𝓨ES.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𐔌 ⋮ d.wayne x fem!reader ꒱

«لا أعلم كيف أنتمي إلى هذا العالم»، يقول، «لكنني أظن أنني قد أنتمي إليكِ».

—୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you're on a date at a carnival with damian wayne & get caught by his bat siblings! ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

It begins on a Tuesday. Because Tuesdays are the most humiliating of days.

Damian Wayne does not do carnivals.

He does not do sticky-fingered children shrieking with laughter, cheeks streaked with frosting and dirt like war paint. He does not do the scent of frying oil clinging to every inch of breathable air, or the grotesque mascots wobbling about with their oversized foam heads and eternal grins, or the synthetic prizes that look like they’re filled with sorrow and asbestos in equal measure.

He certainly does not do funnel cake. (He doesn’t even understand funnel cake. What is it funneling? Why is it called a cake? Is it some kind of regional inside joke he’s not privy to?)

And yet— Here he is. 6:28 PM. Ankle-deep in trampled woodchips. Sweat beading beneath his glove where your hand brushed his a moment ago. Heart thudding like a war drum, idiotically hopeful.

He promised your parents he’d have you home safely before 9.

You're beside him. Smiling. Laughing at something he didn’t quite catch because he was too busy watching the way the late sunlight breaks in your hair like gold dust. You’re looking up now, head tilted toward the Ferris wheel as it turns slow and skeletal against the peach-blue dusk, and Damian thinks—sudden and uninvited—that this is the kind of moment people write poetry about. Or terrible love songs. Or die over in operas.

(Repulsive.)

But he gets it now. He hates how much he gets it. That breathless kind of ache. The quiet terror of wanting. Of hoping. That unbearable softness in his chest like something is growing there, tender and glowing and completely beyond his control.

“You good?” you ask, nudging his arm with your shoulder.

He startles slightly—just barely—and then blinks. You’re watching him with that half-smile you wear, all crooked charm and warm amusement. His gaze flickers, unsteadily, to your mouth. He looks away too fast.

He clears his throat like it might help. “Fine,” he says, stiffly. “Perfectly functional.”

You laugh. Quiet and real. Not at him, exactly—more like with him, even if he hasn't laughed yet. It’s a sound that does something catastrophic to his chest.

He prays no one is filming him. Because he’s smiling now. Actually smiling. Not the close-lipped, diplomatic expression Alfred coached into him for Wayne Foundation photo ops—but something uneven and unsure and human. The kind of smile that might belong to a boy. A person. Not a weapon honed into precision.

“Wanna do the ring toss?” you ask. “I’ll warn you, though—I’m unbeatable.”

Damian scoffs. “Unbeatable? Beloved, I was trained by the League of Assassins.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Cool. I was trained by YouTube.”

(He beats you. Three times. Of course he does. But he lets you win the fourth.)

You don’t call him out on it. Just bump your shoulder against his again and say, “Maybe you’re not totally hopeless.”

And Damian, who has faced death more times than most people have faced a dentist, feels something unfamiliar and terrifying settle in his chest like a promise.

He thinks it might be joy. Or worse—hope.

── .✦

He buys you a plush duck the size of a small planet. It’s hideous—lopsided eyes, neon yellow fuzz, a beak stitched on upside down. It looks like it lost a fight with a sewing machine.

You adore it immediately.

You squeal when he hands it to you, arms barely fitting around its squishy girth. “He’s perfect,” you declare. “I’m naming him Reginald.”

Damian feels like the stupidest, proudest person alive.

And then— It happens.

The horror movie moment. He hears it before he sees them: that voice, carried across the carnival on a gust of pure doom. Loud. Teasing. Unmistakable.

“Is that our little demon on a date?”

Damian’s soul leaves his body. No. No no no no no.

He whips around like a soldier under siege. And there they are. The Batclan. Every last catastrophic member. Lined up like a Renaissance painting done by someone high on.... something. Something illegal definitely.

Jason’s holding a pretzel in one hand and an oversized soda in the other, grinning like a man with nothing to lose. Tim’s already filming, phone tilted like he’s documenting the downfall of Rome. Stephanie’s waving with both arms like she’s flagging down aircraft. Cass is halfway to your booth already, serene and smiling like a forest spirit coming to bless your crops. And—God help him—Dick is looking at you like this is his niece-in-law and the wedding is next Thursday.

Damian takes a physical step back. “No,” he breathes. “No no no—how did they find me?”

You blink, confused but amused. “Um. Friends of yours?”

He turns to you, face pale with the betrayal of fate. “Define ‘friends.’ Then subtract about seventy percent of the dignity from that word.”

You laugh, too delighted. And then—you wave at them. With your entire hand.

Damian stares at you, betrayed. “You’re encouraging them.”

But it’s too late. Dick Grayson is already bounding over, the human embodiment of serotonin. His smile could power Gotham for a week.

“Hi!” he says, a little breathless. “You must be [Y/N]! I’m Dick. Damian’s favorite brother.”

“Objectively false,” Damian mutters, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Jason saunters up next, shoving the rest of his pretzel in his mouth. “Don’t mind him. He’s just shy.”

“I’m not shy—” Damian starts, but—

“Sure, baby bat,” Jason says, eyes glinting. “That’s why you look like you want the earth to swallow you whole.”

Cass gets to you next and, without hesitation, hugs you. It’s silent and warm and grounding, the way only Cassandra Cain can manage. Damian watches with wide eyes like he’s watching a hawk land on someone’s shoulder. Cass doesn’t hug just anyone.

“Your aura’s soft,” she says simply, then steps back like that explains everything.

You beam. Stephanie shrieks, “Those shoes are so cute, oh my god.” And before Damian can react, she’s already offering you lip gloss and a scrunchie from some mysterious pocket in her jacket. You accept both like it’s perfectly natural.

Then— Tim.

Tim slides in beside Damian, not looking up from his phone as he asks, “So. Are you two, like. Dating?”

Damian short-circuits. You glance at him, expectant, curious. There's a beat of silence.

“We are in the process of engaging in a trial romantic exploration,” he blurts, hands rigid at his sides like he's about to be arrested.

Tim stops filming.

He blinks.

“So… yes?”

You burst out laughing. Damian wants to disappear into the woodchips.

There’s cotton candy in your hair. You’re grinning so hard it scrunches your nose. Your laugh is bright and uncontrollable. You’re wearing his hoodie now because it got cold, the sleeves swallowing your hands. The monstrous duck—Reginald—is tucked protectively under one arm.

And somehow— Somehow—

Damian’s not mortified anymore.

He’s just… soft. Full. Quietly radiant, in that fragile, terrible way love makes you feel. Like you’re being held even when no one’s touching you. Like you’ve opened a door in your chest and trusted someone not to slam it shut.

Tim’s still filming. Jason is genuinely stunned. Steph is saying something about a group selfie. Dick is already inviting you to the manor for family movie night. Cass is holding your hand like she’s decided you’re hers now.

And Damian Wayne, child of shadows and sharp edges, just watches you smile at all of them and thinks—

Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to be seen. Especially if it’s like this.

── .✦

Later, after the others have (finally) dispersed into the night—chasing cotton candy and reevaluating their life choices—you and Damian settle onto a weathered bench just beyond the carousel. The lights have dimmed to a soft glow, the music now a distant lullaby mixing with the rustle of night breeze. Above you, the moon hangs low and silver, casting long, quiet shadows over the fairground.

Between you rests Reginald—the monstrous plush duck—looking somehow smug, like he owns this ridiculous moment.

You break the silence first, nudging Damian’s leg with a light elbow. “So. That was fun.”

Damian groans, the sound low and a little reluctant. “If by ‘fun,’ you mean psychologically scarring and a clear violation of personal boundaries, then yes.”

You smile, nudging him again, softer this time. “Come on. They love you. All of them.”

His gaze shifts out toward the twinkling lights of the rides, distant and impersonal. The glow reflects faintly in his dark eyes. He’s quiet for a long moment, like weighing the truth.

“…They tolerate me,” he says finally, voice rough around the edges. “Sometimes.”

You pause, then tilt your head, voice gentle but firm. “You know, love isn’t always quiet, Damian. It’s not always soft and clean. Sometimes it looks like Jason stealing your Oreos so you’ll chase him through the carnival. Or Steph sneaking embarrassing pictures just to have ammunition for blackmail. Or Dick planning your wedding after two dates and acting like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

Damian blinks at you, expression blank but you catch a faint twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth.

A beat passes. Then, quietly, with all the seriousness in the world:

“…Are we getting married?”

You laugh, the sound warm and light. “Slow down, Romeo. Let’s survive the Ferris wheel first, then we’ll talk.”

He folds his arms, but there’s no retort—just a soft exhale, like he’s letting something settle inside. The air between you thickens, charged with something fragile and unspoken. A kind of gravity you can’t quite name—like the moment right before the first kiss, when everything holds its breath.

Then, soft as a shadow:

“The world is cruel,” Damian says, voice low, almost a confession.

You glance at him, heart hitching.

“But you… you make it tolerable.”

That’s Damian’s version of a compliment—awkward and clipped, but sincere beneath the surface.

He doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he stares up at the stars, as if sharing his truth with the indifferent sky.

His fingers twitch beside yours, restless—like he wants to reach out, but something inside holds him back.

Your heart stutters—a stupid, messy thing. Real.

You close the distance instead, your hand sliding gently into his. His fingers don’t flinch. Don’t pull away.

You squeeze once. Quietly.

And somewhere, just beyond the carousel’s glow, the Batfamily is definitely spying again.

But Damian doesn’t care anymore.

── .✦ 𝓐FTER 𝓣HE 𝓓ATE:

True to his word—and to the cautious trust of your parents—Damian got you home before 9 p.m.

Your room is warm.

Unreasonably warm for Gotham, where the cold usually hangs on. But tonight, in your very room, it’s lamp-lit and soft, filtered through linen curtains that ripple slightly like waves.

You’re both still marked by the evening: sugar-crusted sleeves, the scent of fried dough clinging to your hair. Damian wears the glow-in-the-dark wristband you foisted upon him at the ring toss booth. It glimmers faintly under the lamplight, absurd against the clinical precision of his wrist bones. He hasn’t taken it off. You suspect, with some quiet fondness, that he won’t.

Reginald, your plush duck, lies beneath a blanket like royalty in repose. His beady eyes peer out from a pink pillow with the blank stare of a veteran. You insisted on tucking him in. Damian had watched silently, the corners of his mouth twitching at your ceremonial fluffing of the pillow, your grave whisper: “He’s had a long night.”

Privately, Damian suspects Reginald is an elaborate surveillance device.

He leans against your desk. Arms crossed. Body honed sharp, but curiously at ease—as if, just for tonight, he’s chosen not to be a weapon.

You sit beside Reginald’s throne, cross-legged. You’re quiet. So is he.

The air between you is full of unspoken things, spun gold in the lamplight. Everything in the room is soft-edged.

You pat the space beside you. Carefully, so as not to jostle His Royal Duckness.

Damian moves slowly. As if unsure whether sitting beside you might trigger a pressure plate. As if the room might demand proof of intention.

He sits. Not touching, but close. A hairbreadth away. A choice away.

And God, you want to choose.

The silence thickens. Not tense. Not awkward. Just weighted. Like the kind that forms between people who are beginning to orbit each other without permission.

He doesn’t speak right away. His fingers twitch against his biceps.

“I’ve surveilled targets in crowded spaces before,” he says, clipped and serious. “But I don’t believe that qualifies.”

You blink. Then snort. “So. Yes.”

He looks at you, flatly accusatory. You raise your eyebrows.

“…Are you collecting intel?” he asks, wary. But there’s no real bite to it.

You smile down at your hands. “Maybe. I just… I want to get it right. For you.”

You didn’t mean to say it out loud. But there it is. Floating in the space between your hands and his silence.

He looks at you then—really looks. Like someone realizing a song they’ve been humming under their breath for years actually has words. Like every version of him—assassin, son, boy—has been quietly orbiting the moment your eyes met his.

“You already did,” he says, voice like thread pulled from a tapestry. Quiet. Final.

You look at him. Your throat is full of sparrows. You nod, just barely.

The city is gone. The world is nothing but your breath and his.

And then—

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

No calculation. No control. Just a boy sitting too still in the hush, asking like he might never ask again.

“…Yes,” you whisper.

Eyes wide. Doe-eyed. A little doomed.

He leans in.

He kisses like someone unsure the world will last long enough for a second try. Like your lips are a holy place and he’s trespassing with muddy hands and shoes. His mouth moves against yours slow and cautious, like he’s memorizing the shape of safety.

You tilt into him.

His hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw like he’s sketching the borders of a country on a map.

And in that moment, Damian Wayne is not a soldier. Not a son. Not an heir to shadows.

He is just a boy. Warm and breakable and yours.

No tactics. No retreat.

Just this. Just you.

When you part, it’s soft. Reverent. As though the kiss has weight, and letting go might shatter it.

Your foreheads touch. Breath shared. Heartbeats learning how to dance in tandem.

“I’ve killed men,” he murmurs, voice close and dangerous and infinitely tender, “for less than what I feel for you.”

You pull back, just enough to meet his eyes. “That is… hands down… the most terrifyingly romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

A smile flickers across his mouth.

Real. Brief. Crooked like a secret.

You decide—then and there—you decide that you’ll spend your whole life earning that smile again.

And again.

He stays a little longer. Close, but not clinging. You talk. Or something like it. Laughter. Stories. Accusations about Tim’s dart game. The lingering warmth of the night still glowing in your bones.

Eventually, the room feels stretched. The spell thins.

He stands. Moves to your window like it’s instinct. The night folds around him like a cloak.

You follow him, toes quiet against the carpet. He steps onto the sill, the city licking at his boots.

He glances back.

Face neutral. But eyes like firelight—alive. Human.

“Sleep well,” he says.

“You too.” Then, lighter: “Tell Reginald goodnight when you land. He’s fragile.”

Damian doesn’t laugh.

But his smile tilts—barely. A bowstring loosed, if only slightly.

And then—he’s gone.

Gotham swallows him, and you are left blinking.

You press your fingers to your lips.

You've shared your first kiss with none other than damian al ghul wayne.

[tteokdoroki]

࣪𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #10. babies, lots of ‘em.

about. the all star jock has an intense breeding kink that leads him to confess the plans he has for he and his weird girlfriend’s future. ( 2.5K )

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, angst if you squint, characters aged up to 20s, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum play, praise, jock bf!yuuji, weird girl + fem!reader - the brain rot continues !! inspired by @kweenkatsuki-fics recent yuuji thirsting hehe <3

“‘mma give you babies… lots of ‘em,” yuuji slurs, his hips ramming into yours at a bruising, unprecedented pace. 

beneath your shaky fingertips, the muscles of your boyfriend’s back ripple with his movements — his strength as he uses the headboard for leverage to fuck into your sloppy, sweltering heat of your sex. you’re flat on your back, his heavy and weighty body hanging over yours protectively while itadori traps you between the blazing heat in his chest and the sweaty bed sheets below. whenever yuuji gets in the mood like this, possessive and hungry for you ( and nobody else but you ), in the mood to keep you all to himself — you can’t help but succumb to each one of his touches and wet kisses. 

you can’t help the way your body trembles in the cage of his muscular arms while his abs ripple against your tummy and his pelvis tacks deliciously to your swollen clit. the bed creaks beneath the sloppy affair of your grinding bodies and somehow, within the mess of sex and love, your freehands link and squeeze to ground one another. “the way you’re suckin’ me in, god, honey,” yuuji coos, his words tickle the shell of your ear delicately, contrasting with the carnivorous way his deep brown eyes drink you in when he pulls back slightly to look at you, silver chain and dog tags dangling above your hot face, as if he’s picturing you nice and full of him and his seed. “so selfish, you don’t wanna let me pull out. you want this cum…yeah?” 

in that moment, you think you might cum, all because of the breathy whimpers from your lover that ghost over your dampened cupid’s bow ( wet from kisses ) — accompanied by the sensation of his hard-on bullying its way into your tight, quivering little hole. there’s a keen smile that spreads across yuuji’s plush lips when you nod your head ‘yes’ in response, you feel his excitement and desire for you deepen when the entire length of him twitches inside of you — pulsating as small spurts of precum begin to line your lewdly squelching walls.

“i knew you would, you’re such a good girl…and you’re all mine, how lucky am i? that you’re all. fucking. mine.” for a boy so sweet and gentlemanly outside of the bedroom, itadori is always sure to fuck you nasty and raw whilst making you feel like the most adored person on the planet. yuuji’s sailor-mouth-like praises are slurred and sinful, a tale tale sign that he’s already pussy drunk as he sheaths inch after inch within you. you can hardly blame him, not when your body adjusts to yuuji so perfectly — silken pussy stretching over the blue spiralling veins on his heavy cock. “mine to love, mine to fuck, mine to breed.” he tells you through seraphic gripes too.

“ohmygod!” you squeal, voice ringing hoarsely in your throat. your cunt spills honey molasses and sweet nectar against your ravaged sexes, juices intertwining with the small pink tufts of yuuji’s happy trail as his bright red tip bears down harshly on your gummy g-spot — providing him with the lube he needs to make love to you properly. “baby…i c-can’t!” 

just as you moan out again, legs squeezing around your boyfriend’s slender waist — yuuji’s blushing face ducks into your neck, making quick work of marking up your skin…because if he looks at your face, the way your brows crease softly and your lips part in a gentle ‘o’, and sees the way it twists with mounting pleasure. he won’t be able to hold off for much longer, he’ll lose his mind and fuck you too hard for either of you to cope. he knows that you can take it, manage to take all of his seed and all of his love — but if yuuji snaps, he’ll be pounding into you until he’s shooting blanks. 

with your hands traversing upwards into yuuji’s sea of pink curls and over his smooth undercut, he reacts with his golden eyes rolling back into the dark depths of his skull — temporarily locking away your sunlight that brings warmth to your dorm. a familiar heat prickles underneath the surface of your skin like a thousand tiny needles as you pant out your words, pleading with bambi as you look up at yuuji. “i want your cum, yuuji, i want you to…hah… fill me up ‘n get me pregnant…” there’s a feeling painfully seated above your abdomen, a burning sensation of mounting pleasure like a wound desperate to be licked and soothed by itadori.

by grinding up against him, sticky clit smearing over his tense stomach and golden abs, you think that you might garner some relief — but you only feel teased and taunted when the jock pulls his cock from the snugness of your tight head to slap his milky cockhead against your pulsing mound proudly.

“don’t say it like that, fuck, baby,” yuuji all but groans, lashes fluttering at the slick sound your cunt makes with each love tap. beads of his precum ooze over you in another form of claim, glazing you in yuuji’s scent and taste. some of it even drips from your abused hole as it clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled by all that your boyfriend has to offer. “there’s so much… s’leaking out of you. gonna have to keep you on my dick always, give you all my babies.” the rose haired man can’t even hear himself speak, not over the sound of blood rushing through his ears — carrying sex crazed hormones. certainly not over your sweet sighs that form a melody with the pap, pap, pap of your pussy as he slowly sinks back into you — building up a steady rhythm to his thrusts, like an ocean’s regular tide.

yuuji can’t stop rambling, saying whatever lustful thought sits at the forefront of his mind. having you splayed out beneath him like this, your nipples pert against his firm chest and your breasts bouncing with every forceful lunge of his hips forward — it drives him up a wall. “gonna look so pretty ‘n round when you’re full of me. i’ll put a ring on it, make you my pretty wife — holy fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. you like it when i talk to you like that, huh?” the thick vein on the underside of his shaft presses deliciously up against pleasure spots that only yuuji knows about, never leaving you unsatisfied, not even for a moment as his body rocks passionately into yours.

tanned skin and hard muscle feel slippery underneath your trembling hands. you don’t know what to hold onto, don’t know how to ground yourself when you feel this good and yuuji’s cock skilfully dives into your sopping heat — promises of the future, a wedding and family hand in the humid air buzzing between you both but is best said by the way itadori’s body dsnces with your own, his arousal soaked signature lining your rippling walls.   

“need that so bad, yuuji! need you so bad… please fill me up, i want it inside.” you hiccup and demand, hardly able to speak through it all. the bed moans and groans just like you do, every time itadori’s dick pumps in and pulls out of your dripping, greedy hole — coated in a layer of foamy white. using your elbows as leverage, you work your hips down to meet yuuji in a slick and sensual dance, clenching at every inch of him that assails your insides until delight crackles over your hazy brain.  

“god, baby please…if you keep talking like that i’m gonna—“ yuuji whines from deep within his chest, the sound resonating through you and shooting straight down to your creamy cunt that clamps down on him, pulling little droplets of precum from his sensitive tip. 

your next words have the jock pounding into you with new vigour, desperate to give you everything that you want. “d-don’t pull out, yuuji. inside.” 

“ahh, okay,” he whimpers as his voice rises in pitch, brown eyes stinging with tears. his golden arms flex as they lift you by the apex of your thighs — dragging you back onto his cock and it’s unforgiving pace. itadori presses his forehead to yours, caramel eyes shining with tears that gleam in the afternoon sunlight breaking through the curtains of your dorm.  “okay, okay fuck. okay, oh god — h-honey, i’m…fuck! i-im cumming!” he stumbles over his every word, the pink haired jock’s entire world shattering into smaller glass fragments as he finally hits his peak. thick waves of white flood your womb, hot and viscous and lighting you up from the inside out. it coats your swollen pussy lips in an opaque layer that smears along your inner thighs, pouring endlessly from yuuji’s fat cock and breeder’s balls.

effectively breeding you. 

still humping at you relentlessly and not daring to leave you far behind, yuuji tacks two of his fingers to your clit and caresses it in smooth circles, searing his name into you forever. he never lets up, fucking his cum into your womb with languid thrusts — bulbous and mushroomed cockhead spurting his hot seet against your g-spot as it grazes the epicentre of your pleasure over and over again. yuuji holds you in his arms while your vision clears, replaced by only blinding flashes of white and accompanied by an empty scream rattling around in your throat. your arousal spurts out of you in generous and clear streams, nearly forcing yuuji’s cock from your tight, rippling walls — painting both you and him in your juices. 

your boyfriend can barely hold himself above you as you both finally come down, flopping onto you and trapping you against the sex soiled matress for cuddles. 

“we can’t have babies, yuuji,” you laugh happily, letting out a puff of air from deep within your chest once you’re finally able to catch your breath. “not right now, we’re too young and we’re still in college!”

“well duh, not right now…” he muses, kissing your jaw and your neck and every part of you that he’s marked up and bruised. “but like afterwards…yanno? a few years down the line when we both have jobs. i’m gonna be pro and you’ll be a sexy career woman. ‘n i’ll make so much money that you can take all the time off you want. make sure you’re nice and taken care of and—“ 

giggling, the sweet melodies of your laughter cut through your boyfriend’s wistful rambling. 

“what’s so funny?” 

“it’s just…you’ve really got this all planned out, huh?” you reach a hand up to cup itadori’s sweaty cheek, brushing a thumb over the rough scarring at the corner of his mouth. he leans into you, much like a cat seeking physical touch, and you scratch just under his chin. “you want to be with me for that long?” 

“i mean…yeah. i want you for the rest of my life. i thought that was obvious,” yuuji manages to say while you squish his cheeks and play about with his face, sounding a little dejected. “don’t you? … don’t you want that with me?” 

your smile drops as you shift to your elbows, immediately dead set on reassuring your usually confident boyfriend. “of course i want that with gou. i want everything with you, it’s just that…” you chew on your words, push them around the cavern of your mouth as it dries with nervousness. “it’s just that… i’m still so different to you, i’m still not…conventional by any means. so i just thought… by the time college was over you’d—“ 

“i’d get bored of you?” 

yuuji looks almost offended, his pink and kiss-swollen lips pushed forward into a pout and his dark brows drawn together in the centre of his forehead. falling back onto the sheets, one of his hands sink into the pillow supporting your head as you lay flat on your back — you feel it tremble with an emotion you can’t quite place on his face. is it anger? hurt? annoyance? either way, your heart hammers in your chest and crawls it’s way up your throat. you feel nauseous at the prospect of even upsetting yuuji — especially after the loving sex you’ve just had. 

a croak in your throat replaces your sweet voice, you’re not sure if it’s because of how you’d been previously screaming your boyfriend’s name or because of how nervous you’ve suddenly become. “y-yeah,” you say slowly. “that.” 

“how could you even think that?” yuuji breathes steadily, the corner of his mouth twitching into a frown but you can’t bare to look at him any longer — casting your gaze to the side. 

shaking your head, you blink back tears you hadn’t even known were there. “i don’t… i don’t know. forget it, pretend i never said anything.” 

itadori bends at the neck to reach you,  tutting into the air as it cools down and loses its feverish taste for lust. his nose bumps yours, the pair of them becoming neighbours while his breath coasts across your face almost comfortingly. 

“when i say i want you, i mean it. forever,”  he confesses, like a reflex, like the natural reflex that his brain has to make his heart beat. “i want you to be my wife after all this. you’re not just some college fling to me. i want to buy you a house, a big ring, keep you comfortable for the rest of my life. i decided on that when i first met you,” a calloused finger and thumb tilt your chin to the perfect angle, making you look at him, your gaze falling into a mahogany one belonging only to your doting partner. “i don't care how long it takes to prove this to you… but you’re the love of my life, so have a little faith in me. okay?”

yuuji takes your hand in his, placing your palm on the left side of his chest where the muscle keeping him alive races for you. the only girl in the room. the only girl in his worlds. his dog tags jingle at the movement but his eyes on you remain unwavering and so full of commitment. you’d be stupid not to believe him now.

“okay,” you affirm sweetly, tilting your head a little further in a silent ask. you want a kiss. “i love you, yuuji.” 

“and i love you right back,” he mumbles against your lips without skipping a beat, slotting your mouths together perfectly in a gentle chaste kiss. “now baby, please stop asking me to cum inside, you know i can’t help it and we can’t have babies just yet,” yuuji whines and collapses on top of you with a huff. 

“you’re the one who said you wanted to give me babies!” 

“and you’re the one who keeps feeding into my breeding kink, let’s not get it twisted here!”

and all throughout your playful bickering, yuuji stays nestled deep inside of you — keeping you plugged full. of both his cum and his love.  

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.