#its always my waist/hips/thighs and i never wear shorts or anything above my ankles

[panlyv]

wtv

[breakyeol]

touch it (sensual oils)

one shot

┗ pairing : baekhyun x reader

words: 4k

warnings: smut, sensual massage, byun-booty, hand job, light overstimulation 

a/n; because baekhyun deserves it

Baekhyun had a bad day.

That much was glaringly obvious from the very moment he stepped through the door, looking about ready to crawl beneath your bedsheets and never come out. He collapsed into your arms with a pathetic whine the moment you rose from where you were situated on the couch, the full weight of his body thrown against your chest. You grunted at the unexpected impact, quickly wrapping your arms around his slim waist when you felt his knees beginning to give out.

“Baek!” You yelped, struggling feebly to support the both of you. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m too tired to stand,” he cried out dramatically, voice muffled against your shoulder, “my body feels like it’s turning into mush.”

You clicked your tongue at his familiar dramatics, a fond smile flitting across your lips in spite of yourself. “Oh my poor baby~” you cooed playfully, petting the top of his head, “they worked you into the ground?”

A heavy pout tugged at the corners of his lips, big droopy eyes swinging up to meet yours as he bobbed his head. “I’m already sore. I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow.” He complained noisily, hands curling into tight fists around the material of your sweatshirt.

This close, you could easily make out the lingering scent of sweat clinging to his skin, and you didn’t doubt for a second he worked until he was drenched in it. There was a flash, an image that passed before your eyes, of Baekhyun, sweat rolling down the smooth slope of his chin, dripping from the fringes of his bangs, glistening enticingly above his brow, his mouth pink and open, gasping. It vanished just as quickly as it had come, and your attention was drawn back to the whining mess of a man squirming against your chest.

“Go shower,” you suggested, not trusting your voice above a careful whisper, “then come to bed, okay?”

“I don’t want to. Just hold me.”

You snickered, combing your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck, feeling the way his body melted into the tender caress. “I will gladly hold you for the rest of the night… after you take a shower.”

He only offered an unintelligible grunt in response, showing no signs of detaching himself from your body, his hold around you tightening in a display of stubborn resistance. There was little doubt in your mind that he’d keep this up for as long as your patience allowed – which, given how soft you were for the man, was a fairly long time –, but you knew you’d both be better off once he felt clean and refreshed, cleansed of the day’s many hardships.

“You’ll feel a lot better afterwards.”

A groan this time.

“I’ll make you feel a lot better afterwards.”

At that reparation, his head snapped up, eyes wide and, despite the exhaustion, glinting with a hint of excitement. His spine straightened, grip around you loosening somewhat as strength seemed to return to his muscles. “Really?” He whispered, pink tongue slipping out from between petal lips. So easy. You could’ve scoffed, but thought better of yourself, settling for a suggestive cock of your head that could be interpreted in a number of ways.

“Go shower,” you hummed, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and guiding his face down towards yours, “then… we’ll see.”

He let out a huff of breath, eyes going hooded as they flickered down to trace the smug curve of lips. “You’re mean.”

You laughed lightly, planting a kiss that was far too short for Baekhyun’s liking to his pouted mouth before skillfully untangling yourself from his arms. “We’ll see just how mean I can be once you come to bed.” You called teasingly over your shoulder, grinning in wild amusement at the low curse that followed.

It wasn’t too long after you’d made your way into the bedroom that you heard the soft hiss of the shower. You waited until you heard the low groan that told you that your boyfriend had finally stepped beneath the hot spray to permeate through the separating wall before you jumped into action.

This wasn’t the first time Baekhyun had come home looking ready to collapse and you doubted it would be the last. There wasn’t much you could do about him having to go to work. No matter what you said or how many times you told him he should give himself a chance to rest and recover, he would always put his everything into his work, because that was just the kind of man he was. He was all passion and fire and unrelenting persistence even when he felt like he might die. It was a quality that sparked both admiration and fear inside of you.

There was a certain helplessness that came with being the person he came home to after a long day of work, body and mind teetering dangerously on the brink of exhaustion. There wasn’t much you could do to ease his stress, as he wasn’t the type to verbally unload or express his unease to its full extent. Sure, he was dramatic, but only in a playful sense. That was his way of downplaying and covering up his true feelings, to both you and himself.

But, there were still other ways you could help. And, with some brainstorming and a bit of research, you’d come up with the perfect plan to help ease some of Baekhyun’s tension. Though, you had to scramble a bit to set the scene, you knew it would be fully worth it to see the look on his face.

It was just as you’d lit the final candle, completing the final touches, that you heard the shower shut off. Perfect timing. You quickly situated yourself on the edge of the bed, the cool air caressing your scantily clad body, rousing goosebumps across your skin.

But, the chills tickling your spine were little more than a second thought as Baekhyun stepped into the room donning nothing more than a towel that hung dangerously low on his full hips. He paused just inside the doorway, his brows shooting upwards as he took in the state of your shared bedroom. Wide eyes danced over the flickering candles laid out strategically across the hardwood floor to encircle the bed, swept over the scattered rose petals, before finally landing on you.

You, wearing a deep crimson lingerie set, a sheer silk robe, and nothing more.

His bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, rose sharply as his breath hitched. A low curse tumbled from his lips, almost too faint to hear over the seductive instrumentals pulsing from the speakers.

A satisfied smirk broke across your face at his reaction, pleased with yourself for having successfully caught him off guard.

“Surprise,” you sang, voice low and silken.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his own amazement rooting him in place as he visually inhaled the sight of you. Your skin was hot beneath the intensity of his gaze, blazing as it trailed torturously slow up the length of your body, not daring to miss a single detail.

A faint buzz of nerves fizzled in your gut.

You’d never done anything like this before. Presented yourself in such a way to him, that is. All wrapped up in silk and lace of only the most sensual nature, bathed in smooth orange candlelight that tickled your ankles and crept up the smooth length of your lower legs. This was something new for the both of you, something unexplored. But it also wasn’t everything you had in store.

When he moved, it was with the utmost cautiousness, as if stepping too quickly or too harshly might disturb the beautiful illusion spread before him. But still, he moved, unable to resist the temptation.

Without speaking, his hands found your face, curving around the shape of your jaw and winding around the back of your neck. They were cold against your skin, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that rippled down your spine as he leaned over you. You let out a soft hum at his touch, head rolling back under his gentle coaxing.

Not a beat passed before his mouth found yours, eager and impatient. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, easily finding the smooth slope of his naked waist and tugging him closer. He moaned somewhere low in his throat, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of your lip. You allowed as much, indulging the hungry press of his mouth, the careful nips of his teeth — until he tried to lay you down.

Your palms met the swells of his chest, and he pulled away, breathless and confused. “What is it?” He asked hoarsely, licking over his swollen lips. You’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said he didn’t look irresistible in that moment, wet hair hanging messily over his brows, dark, hooded eyes, all haze and lust as they stared down at you heatedly, full cheeks blushing a feverish shade of red. But you had plans for tonight, plans you didn’t intend to discard for the sake of sexual pleasure.

“I’m not fucking you.”

He gasped, disbelief coloring his features. “What? Why not?”

“Because,” you grinned, settling your hands on his hips, “I’m going to give you a massage.”

“A massa— ah!” his words cut off abruptly with a high pitched yelp as you suddenly spun him around, all but throwing him down onto the petal covered mattress. He could only stare at you in shock as you crawled over his nearly naked body, mouth curved into a playful smile.

“A massage.” You confirmed, sounding rather proud. But, he still looked less than amused, so you elaborated. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, and I know you’ve been stressed and your body is exhausted. A massage will help release some of that tension.”

“You know what else releases tension?” He asked, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. You cocked a brow, feeling the light press of his fingertips as they feathered over your thighs, taking an obvious path upwards. Desire and mischief swirled in his eyes, voice low and thick as the words dripped slowly from his dangerous tongue, “Hot… passionate… s—”

You snatched his hands from your skin before they could reach their destination, pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. “Shut up and roll over.”

He huffed, pouting up at you scornfully but obeyed nonetheless, rolling onto his stomach. “Do you even know how to give a massage?” He snipped as you settled yourself on the back of his towel clad thighs.

“I’ve done my research.” You offered lightly, sparing a moment to admire the lithe, sinewy build of his shoulders and back before you moved, reaching for the tall bottle you’d situated on the nightstand earlier. He followed your movements from the corner of his eye, curiosity breaking through the petulant facade.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?”

“Perhaps,” you teased, pouring the translucent golden liquid into your palm, “but you’ll enjoy this, I promise. Just… relax.”

A defeated sigh escaped his chest, his body deflating beneath you. “Fine. But, this better feel better than sex or I swear to god I will—” he jolted with a soft gasp as you suddenly pressed the heels of your oil lathered palms into the area just between his shoulder blades and pushed outwards, “sue.”

You smirked smugly to yourself at the breathlessness with which he completed his sentence, obviously not having expected the pressure to feel that amazing.

“Good?” You asked, voice tinged with arrogance.

“Uh-huh,” he admitted immediately, moaning throatily as you rolled your thumbs deeply against the base of his neck, “oh fuck that feels so good.”

You chuckled, skillfully working your fingers across the planes of his broad shoulders. He melted deeper into the mattress with every knot you deftly unwound, soft, relieved moans breaking from his open mouth. The smooth, lavender scented oil glistened captivatingly on his sun-kissed skin, the delicate aroma gently permeating through your bedroom. It was a lovely, soothing smell, subtle and unimposing. You spread it diligently across the smooth expanse of his upper back, before gradually beginning to work your way downwards.

His sounds of bliss lowered in pitch the lower your hands reached, dipping into silky tenor groans when your hands reached the delicate dip of his waist. But, as you moved to massage the area just above his hips, he suddenly jolted, spine arching, a strained curse rushing from between clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help the concern that sparked to life in your chest at his response. “Does it hurt?” You asked, easing up on the pressure but not removing your touch completely. Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded with a soft, hesitant hum, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “What happened?”

He made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “I just… twisted it weirdly during practice, I guess.” He offered weakly, shivering as you poured a small puddle of oil in the small of his back.

“Did you take a break?”

His silence was all the answer you needed.

“Baek,” your tone turned scolding as you gently worked your fingers into the tight dip of his waist, “just because you can fight through the pain doesn’t mean that you should. You’re not doing your body any favors by pushing it this hard.”

“I know but I—“ he sighed heavily, pressing his face into the sheets, “I just… don’t want to disappoint anybody.”

Oh, your poor, sweet Baekhyun. Always trying to please everyone else even when it ends up hurting him.

Pausing in your movements, you leaned forwards, bracing your hands on his shoulders so that you could speak in his ear. “Nobody is disappointed in you, Baek. You work so hard everyday to be the best you can be, and it shows. Everyone knows that you put your everything into what you do. And everyone’s proud of you,” you pressed your lips against the curve of his throat, slowly working your way up to the curve of his jaw, “I’m proud of you.”

He glanced back at you through his eyelashes. “Really?”

The question is so soft, so uncertain, and you feel your heart clench painfully in your chest at the thought that this man truly doesn’t understand just how many people adore him for just being… him. “Of course.”

You didn’t miss the rising of his cheeks, though he tried to hide himself beneath his arm, suddenly shy. You bit back a grin of your own, pressing one final kiss to the shell of his ear before returning to your earlier position and resuming the massage. He felt a dozen times more relaxed beneath you, the previous tension occupying his muscles having magically dissipated.

Sometimes, all he really needed was a little reassurance.

The smile that settled across your lips was unwavering as you took to kneading at the supple flesh of his hips, just above the top of his towel. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of a thought. A mischievous, dangerous thought. A thought that had your attention lingering on where the towel was tucked and secured on his right hip. Glancing up at the back of his head, you allowed your fingers to trail discretely towards the damp, white fabric, toying with it lightly so that he wouldn’t notice — not even as it came undone.

It was only as you peeled it swiftly away from his body and Baekhyun felt the rush of cool air across his backside that he realized what had just occurred.

“H– Hey!” He yelped, swinging his head around fast enough to give himself whiplash, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is a full body massage, Baek. It’s not a full body massage unless it’s full body.”

“My butt does not need massaging.”

You grinned, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you cocked a challenging brow. “I beg to differ.”

“Pervert.” He hissed.

You gasped, splaying a hand across your chest. “Who told you?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your antics, but put up little resistance as you nudged his hands away from his butt. The tips of his ears and the back of his neck turned a dark, lovely shade of pink, and he quickly buried his face in his arms. Taking that as his nonverbal cue to continue, you poured yourself some more of the lavender scented oil, overturning your palm to let it drizzle onto his cheeks. He flinched slightly, the sensation catching him off guard.

So cute. You bit into the inside of your cheek to keep from cooing at him, opting to set your hands upon the gentle curve of his ass and knead your fingers into the soft, toned flesh. Baekhyun stifled a moan in the crook of his elbow, eyes fluttering as his body responded to the soothing touch.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” You asked, tone teasing.

“Shut up.”

You snickered, massaging deep circles into the muscles of his upper thigh. He groaned deeply, fingers curling into the sheets. “Right there, right there— fuck, right there. It’s so sore.”

Heat flickered faintly in the pit of your stomach at the low rasping of his voice, grunted roughly through clenched teeth. Geez, why’d he have to sound so damn sexy…

Brushing off the thought as best you could, you forced yourself to focus on massaging the tension from his hamstrings. But each brush of your fingers over the insides of his thighs, intentional or otherwise, coaxed a round of violent shivers and breathless moans from your very much nude and very much oil covered boyfriend. You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, jaw clenching as you squeezed your hands around the backs of his lower thighs.

The sounds he was making weren’t helping your… situation in the least.

“How are you so good at this?” He asked, somewhat airily as your hands glided upwards, to just below the curve of his ass before returning to the crook of his knee. The question snapped you out of whatever trance you’d put yourself in watching the way his slick, honeyed skin dipped and curved deliciously beneath the pressure of your touch.

“Re- research. Lots of research.” You cleared your throat, shifting downwards on the mattress to set to work on his calves.

“You’re hands are fucking magic.”

Warmth slipped into your cheeks at the praise, your heart picking up speed within your chest. He was making it difficult for you to focus.

“I told you you’d like it.” You hummed playfully, beginning the slow ascent back up the length of his naked body.

“You were right,” he conceded easily, sighing in bliss as your hands slid over the small of his back, “I love it. Feels so fucking good, you have no idea.”

A content (and perhaps a bit smug) smile settled across your face. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. All you wanted was to make Baekhyun feel even just a little bit better after what you knew had to be a long, hard day— and you goddamn succeeded.

“Baek,” you murmured, and he gasped softly, not expecting your lips to be right next to his ear. He let out an unsteady hum, blinking hard twice when he felt your lace covered chest press against his back, “roll over for me?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. You lifted yourself off of him to give him just enough room to turn onto his back beneath you. All at once you were nose to nose, soft puffs of breath caressing your mouth. He was looking up at you with those eyes again, those hooded, wanting eyes, his hands clenching at the sheets somewhere down by his sides. You could see the dark flush on his cheeks, the desperation slowly seeping into his expression.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” The question was quiet, barely a whisper on his delicate pink lips. But the fire it ignited inside of you was anything but— loud, violent, and devastating, ripping your so well kept self control to shreds in a matter of moments.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sliding a slick hand down his toned stomach, “but I’m going to touch it first.”

He barely had time to react before your hand was around his cock. He gasped, back arching, forcing his chest flush against yours. Surprise flickered across your face upon feeling him already fully hard and throbbing against your palm. “Oh?”

“What?” He huffed out breathlessly, swinging the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, “did you expect me not to get hard while my sexy girlfriend wearing sexy lingerie rubs every inch of my body with oil?”

Pausing, you squinted down at him. “It was the butt massage, wasn’t it?”

He glared, and you grinned.

But any annoyance was wiped clean off his face as you squeezed your fingers around him, stroking his dick at a slow, borderline torturous pace. The remaining oil on your hand combined with his precum provided the perfect lubrication, the slide smooth and wet, the lewd sound of it making you clench around nothing. Baekhyun’s head rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. But, not for a moment did his gaze break from yours. You bit your lip harshly, a violent heat licking at your veins, the sheer intensity of his dark stare making your head feel dizzy.

“You look… so hot right now.” You hadn’t intended to say the words out loud, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to feel even the least bit ashamed.

The corner of his mouth curled into a sultry smirk, an airy chuckle rumbling somewhere low in his chest.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “Then kiss me.”

You did so without hesitation.

Baekhyun let out a heady groan, hands surging up from between your bodies to cradle your jaw as your lips worked against his with a hunger you hadn’t realized you possessed. It was uncoordinated and messy, all lashing tongue and vicious teeth, biting and sucking and licking until you were certain your that lips were raw. You were dizzy and intoxicated by the taste of him, and he wasn’t in much of a better state. With his cock in your hand and your tongue in his mouth, it didn’t seem like he’d last much longer.

Beneath you, Baekhyun’s hips bucked and rolled, frenzied and desperate. Your hand stilled around him, allowing him the luxury of control as he fucked himself violently into your closed fist. Each moan that tumbled from his mouth into yours was louder than the last, and you relished in the unabashed displays of pleasure, taking an immense amount of pride in knowing that you were the cause of it.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped the warning, his nails biting harshly into your shoulder, “fuck— fuck, wait— I’m g-gonna come.”

“Baek,” you panted, still trying to catch your breath from the kiss, “come for me. Please.”

His back arched, the furnace of his body overwhelmed but still trying feebly to fight back his oncoming high. Baekhyun didn’t like coming first. He’d always had the tendency of putting your pleasure above his own, making sure you came at least once (if not multiple times) before him. But tonight wasn’t about you. Tonight was about him. And you were going to make sure he knew it.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking a dark bruise into his skin while simultaneously rolling your thumb over his sensitive tip in a way that had him trembling pathetically beneath you.

“Oh god— oh fuck— y/n—!” He came with a hoarse cry of your name, hips bucking, muscles tensing, skin shivering. You felt his hot release spilling over your knuckles, slipping between your fingers. He whimpered and squirmed as the overstimulation kicked in, but you didn’t stop stroking him until he started begging. “I can’t, I can’t— baby, please—” his chest heaved and his eyes went glassy, the dangerous cocktail of pleasure and pain making his head feel dizzy.

Looking down at him, so wrecked and fucked out, with those flushed cheeks and heavy eyes, you felt your heart flutter at the same time arousal coiled in your gut. He was just too damn pretty for his own good.

You relented, gently releasing his spent dick from your hold. He let out a shaky breath before tugging you into another mind numbing kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, feeling one of his hands coil around the back of your neck while the other explored the expanse of your back. It didn’t take long before they discovered the clasp of your bra, deftly unclasping it. Distracted by the skillful flicks of his tongue, you didn’t realize what he’d done until you felt the lacy fabric slip down your arms.

A giggle bubbled in your throat, and you whispered against his mouth, “naughty boy.”

His lips curled, and then all at once you found yourself sprawled on your back. “Naughty girl,” Baekhyun retaliated in a low, playful growl, pinning your hands to the mattress on either side of your head, “making me cum even after I told you to wait...”

His head dipped and you gasped softly as he nipped at the sensitive part of your throat, one hand sliding down to grip at your naked breast. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as he circled your nipple with a rough thumb.

“Guess I’ll just have to pay you back for it…”

You weren’t about to object to that.

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: You travel to meet Tom who is away filming. Since he is sharing a house with Harrison who is expected back at any second you have to make a decision; be quick - or quiet?

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Word count: 2,3 k

Warnings: Extended warnings under read more - but this is smut and strictly +18. 

Notes: This is sort of set in the same universe as The Bet just a few months later - BUT you do not have to have read that story to read this one, since there is literally zero plot in this. PWP, like truly. There isn’t even a hint of plot. A liiittle bit corny/fluffy. Also, they are both idiots, like I cannot stress this enough, they are both so dumb. 

Also I am once again staying up too late to write smut while tipsy. It is what it is. 

Extended warnings: Unprotected sex in established relationship. Little bit of stripping from Tom. Some teasing. Talk about bondage but no actual bondage in this. Spanking. Hand around throat; though no choking. Derogatory language.

You fall through the door and into each other’s arms and it would have been romantic if he had managed to catch you as you lounge at him and remain standing on his feet. As it is, you both tumble over and fall to the ground.

“Tom, for god’s sake!”

“Oh hush! At least you landed softly on my chest! I took the hard hit!”

“Babe, there’s nothing soft about your chest and we both know it”. 

But by this point his lips have been removed from yours for too long and so instead of arguing he pulls you in for a kiss, deep and raw and hungry, his hands in your hair pulling you closer towards himself; closer, closer and closer still. Your hair is loose and your lips are bitten and wet from his kisses and his jeans feel uncomfortable tight over the crotch. Your so fucking beautiful and for a moment he thinks about just fucking you right here and now; on the hard  wooden floor of the hallway, surrounded by a mess sneakers, umbrellas and Wellington boots. He’d fuck you quick and hard and fueled up on lust Or perhaps make it to the dining room table and bend you over that; your beautiful ass in the air and his fist in your hair. Or maybe up against the hall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks into you.

But the threat of Harrison returning any moment feels very real indeed, even as you’re on top of him, rubbing yourself against him like a cat in heat. Groaning at what he has to do he lays his hands on the sides of your hips, making you stop your grinding. Pushing you upward you soon take the hint and stand up, pulling you with him and honestly, he was going to lead you into the bedroom - honestly, he was. But you look at him and bite your swollen lip, still wet from kisses and suddenly you’re pushed up against the wall, your lips back where they should always be; on him. 

He’s hard as a rock; has been since he picked you up at the airport. On the drive back to the house the studio has rented for him and Haz while they’re filming your hand never left his lap, just kept stroking and stroking his dick. You had offered to give him a blowjob and honestly, he’d lie if he said he wasn’t considering it. But just the thought of your mouth around his dick after months spent apart has him seeing stars. He would never have been able to concentrate on the road if that happened. That and the fact that he had been able to think about nothing else than coming inside your warm cunt for weeks now.

“We gotta be quiet babe, Haz will be back soon” he says, in between urgent kisses, his hand over your breast; playing with your nipple through the fabric. “Think you can be quick?”

“Honey, I didn’t travel for eight hours to be quick.”

“Fine, then you’ll have to be quiet” and before  you have time to respond he takes hold of your thighs and he lifts you up in the air. You fall forward, bending over his shoulder, and he slaps your ass as he walks over to the bedroom. Somewhere on the way you drop your ballerina flats but he keeps walking. You half-laugh, half-protes the entire way there, kicking your legs and ordering him to put you down. When he reaches the bed he does and you fall down on it; landing with your back against the soft mattress. 

Your gorgeous legs are spread and so much skin visible in your short jeans shorts; his white dress shirt that you have burrowed tucked into the hem. You bite your lip again and look up at him through your lashes, knowing very well the effect it has on him. 

Well, two can play that game.

Looking you right in the eye he brings his hands to the hem of his shirt and slowly lifts it, revealing the muscles underneath. Pulling it over his head he throws it on the clean ground; having taken the time yesterday to clean up the mess of the house before your visit. He kicks off his shoes and then, smiling wickedly at your wide eyes, he places his hands on his belt, slowly unfastening it.

You reach out to touch him but he reprimands you. “Nah-ah, don’t think so darling. Take off your shirt.”

To his endless surprise; you do what you're told. Unbuttoning your shirt and discarding it on the floor you smile up at him. You aren’t wearing a bra. 

“You traveled all the way here like that?” He asks in disbelief; and now it is he who wants to reach out his hands and touch you. 

“I don’t like the thought of them seeing my bra in those scanner things at the airport” you shrug. 

“So…” and he rubs his forehead, not knowing what else to do with himself “so you decided it was better to just not wear anything?”

You shrug again, unfaced. “Look, I’m not saying my logic makes sense but-”

“Seems a stretch to call it logic then, doesn’t it?”

“Tom” you whine, “I love you, but just remove your fucking pants and shove your dick in me already!”

And so he moves his hands to the zipper of his jeans, where a bulge is clear to see. Still smiling he slowly drags it down before shoving his trousers over his hips, letting them fall to the ground. Stepping out of them he kicks them to the side; leaving him just in his boxers which he swiftly removes as well. 

Standing in front of you, completely naked, as you stare at his body with fervent hunger and blazing need makes him feel almost invincible. 

“Take off your shorts” he orders and it surprises him how low and lustful his voice sounds, even to his own ears.

Again you do as he says and he stares at you as you slowly reveal more of the beautiful skin of your body. He wonders if you feel as adored when he looks at you as he does when you look at him. He hopes you do. 

You remove your underwear as well, laying back against the bed to shimmy out of them. He takes a step forward, grabs hold of your ankles as you dangle them in the air. Placing himself in between them he takes one of your uplifted legs and he kisses the soft inside of your calf. 

“Gonna tie these up one day” he says and kisses your skin again. “Tie them up and tease you for hours. Really take my time and drag it out until you’re shaking and breathless and so desperate to come all you can say is ‘please, Tom’”.

He hears how your breath picks up, and can practically sense you growing wetter. Your eyes are glossy with want already. 

Reaching down to your core he slips a finger in you with ease. He snickers. “I’ve barerly even touched you and you’re already this wet?”

Since you can’t deny it you buck your hips up for more instead. He bends down and kisses the tender skin above your ribs with an open mouth. It’s soft and sweet and in sharp contrast from the finger moving inside you; that is all rough and quick movements. 

Moving up he places his wet mouth around one of your nipples and you writhe underneath him, your legs hugging onto his waist. Sucking on the sensitive flesh, gently nippling down on it, he then blows cold air on the wet spot and you moan, bucking up against his hand; that is still moving in and out of you. 

“More” you demand in another moan, and you lift your hips up, holding yourself up by your legs around his waist, pressing yourself against him 

“This is why you should be tied up,” he says, biting your nipple again. You moan and continue to push yourself against him. 

He leans back, grabs a hold of your hips, and twists you until you fall over on your stomach. He spanks your ass, hard; one time, two times, three times, four times. Two on each side. It only has you writhing all the more underneath him. 

He squeezes the soft flesh of your ass in his hands and groans. Moving his hands over your lower back, pressing his palms in almost as if massaging you. Your body is tense, but he knows your body well, knows its because of anticipation for what’s to come. Slowly he removes his big hands from your back, instead slowly dragging his short-nailed finger up over your spine. He watches in fascination as you shower beneath him. 

While he was away filming he had bought a guitar. Had practised the instrument for hours trying to make it play him the perfect sound. But as he drags his finger up your spine again and you whimper he knows that your body is the only instrument he wants to perfect.

“Ready?” He asks.

“Yes” you say, a little breathlessly. 

And again his palm connects with your skin, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the empty house. Again and again and again he does it. You squirm beneath him, gasping and moaning and clasping at the sheets; pushing back against his palm, eager for more. He spanks you until your skin feels warm, so he moves his hand in soothing circles over the tender place as you breathe out a sigh. 

“Come here” he says, and his voice is gruff and tender with need for you. Pulling you up towards him until you back is pressed against his chest, your legs widely spread so your thighs are outlining his and your glistening wet cunt is pressed against his dick. 

Playing with the tip of his cock, teasing it against your entrance he whispers rasperly in your ear, “think you can be quiet?”

You look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes, and nod eagerly. 

“You sure?” he asks, continuing to tease you. “You see, Haz could come back any second now and we wouldn’t want him to hear you, would we?”

You shake your head, and god, you really must want this because you waste no time arguing with him. So he decides to reward you and slips himself into you; pulls your body even closer to yours. 

You bite your lip to hold back the moan but it slips through your lips anyway. 

He moves a hand up to your throat, places his Rolex clad wrist around it, and the other hand around your waist; guiding you up and down over his cock, as if you were bouncing in his lap. Your breasts move up and down with the movement and honestly he wishes he had more arms so that he could touch you everywhere at once. 

When another moan falls from your lips he shushes you gently in your ear, “ now, now” he warns. 

He lifts you higher up and higher up by each movement, before pressing you down harder and deeper against him 

And then you both hear it. A car driving up the driveway. 

Haz is home. 

He slams you down against him again and the ecstatic sound that leaves you is positively animalistic. He reaches for your panties, discarded on the side of the bed. Balling them up he moves it to your mouth and obligingly you open it. He shoves them in before tenderly kissing the side of your lips. Your eyes are tight shut in concentration, trying with all your might not to make a sound as you hear footsteps walking by outside. 

“Remember, quiet now” he warns, mouth pressed against your ear. 

Yet you make a deep, wanton moan and he fuck up into you even harder, grinds your hips against his until your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

“Think you like this darling” he whispers again against your ear. “Think you like the thought of maybe getting caught. Think you like knowing that this is what I’ll think of for those months we spend apart and I gotta take care of myself.” 

He pushes you up and forward, until you’re on your hands and knees for him and with one swift movement he’s inside you agains; the angle so perfect it has him seeing stars. 

“Almost made me come before I was ready there” he says and spanks your ass, though not as hard as last time. 

You're slick and wet and he can see it running down your thigh and he wants to groan in pleasure but outside he’s pretty sure Harrison is talking to the neighbor, looking for his keys. 

He pulls you up closer to him and slams into you until you're clenching around him, your skin so hot against his thighs it feels like they are on fire. He knows you love this position and its clear in your tense, arched body.

He leans down and to out of breath now to whisper he says in a hushed voice, “he’ll be inside the house soon, you gonna be quiet? Or is Haz about to find out just how slutty you are?”

Your answer is yet another moan, muffled against your panties. 

So he fucks into you; hard and fast and deep and it’s like the pleasure is everywhere; clouding his eyes from seeing clearly and stopping his lungs from breathing freely. Your toes are curled and your back is arched and it all feels so overwhelmingly and blissfully intense; so fragile and vivid and frantic it’s like neither of your body quite knows what to do with all the pleasure. Like you are both about to combust from it. 

His arms and legs are shaking with the effort and he feels sweat running down his back. But then you shake as well and he feels you convulse around him and god - it’s heaven.

It takes a while before you both return to reality. He removes your underwear from your mouth and gently kisses your lips; pulling you in close against him.

“Love you” he says and kisses the tip of your nose. “Thank you for visiting.”

[littlefreya]

Santa Baby

Summary: For over a decade, detective Walter Marshall kept a dirty little secret, thinking no one would ever find out about his past. Sadly for him, you are somewhat of a detective yourself.

Challenge prompt: the song Santa Baby.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Some sexy themes but mostly fluffy floof fluff.

A/N: This is for @toomanystoriessolittletime​​ Christmas challenge, which I am sadly a day late with. Remind me to never sign up to challenges. I stumbled upon erotic book covers that looked a lot like Walter (this and this) so decided it’s a funny idea. I never read these books, so I am not mocking it or the artist who drew it. Many thanks to @wondersofdreaming​ for helping me out. Not beta’d, I own my mistakes.

Please feedback, comment, reblog if you enjoyed reading. 💖

Title: Santa Baby

It’s not that Detective Marshall was the Grinch or anything, it’s just that he couldn’t afford to be merry. With crime levels peaking during that time of the year, and sunlight being scarce, his body ran strictly on caffeine and stale doughnuts. 

The temptation to spend Christmas eve sprawled on the worn-out leather sofa in his office was quite strong tonight. But even big hulking bears had their weaknesses, and as exhausted as he was, he dreaded every morning he woke up without your warm body curled up beside him. 

With his energy level blinking red, he finally decided to call it a night and drive home. Heavy growling and thundering drums roared within his truck, the extreme Scandinavian black-metal he listened to served as a complete contrast to the soft snow that fell from the sky and quietly piled up on the sides of the road. Pausing at the street-light, he watched the little crystals striving to form on his windshield and melting just as quickly against the heat of the car. 

For a single moment, all the terrors of the night diminished by the little flame that was the reminiscent of you - his little firefly who led him through the darkness, tender as snow and wild as fire. Accelerating just a tad, he imagined you’d be asleep by the time he’d get there, and if not, Walter hoped to at least be in your good graces. 

Luckily, ther warm orange hues beaming through the windows assured him that you were still very much awake, and he couldn’t help but spare one of his rare smiles.

Muffled tunes of a familiar song played beyond the door, the bass vibrating through the polished wooden flooring and the walls. Slow and sensual like honey rolling off one’s finger, the jazzy beats filled the spacious house along with the sweetest scent of crushed peppercorn and red berries. Smiling wider, he held onto the doorframe and kicked off his heavy boots.

“Pet?” he called and followed into the living room, hearing you humming along with the lyrics.

“Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me.”

Oh, he was indeed in your good graces. 

Sitting on your knees with your ankles hunched below your ass, you wore a velvety Santa hat and a sheer, red nighty finished by fake white fur that outlined your breasts. Your hands held a shiny green present over your thighs, and you gave him one of those coy looks that made him want to fall before you and pledge himself as your servant.

Instead, he crooked an eyebrow and unzipped his thick winter coat, carelessly discarding it on the floor and making his way toward you.

“Have you been an awful good girl?” 

Sleeves rolled up; he crossed his muscular arms together while towering over you. His cobalt eyes drank in your sight, trying to decide what to do with you first. The scent of musky sweat mingled with dark cologne wafted over you within seconds, making your chest rise and sink in a primal instinct. 

“Oh, I’m definitely going down your chimney tonight,” he growled upon your reaction to his presence and sucked in his bottom lip with growing hunger.

“At least three times,” you dared him in return and then casually lowered your gaze to the box perched on your lap. 

The large man caught on the hint and carefully knelt before you. One of his hands reached to stroke his beard while his mind rummaged to figure out what surprise hid behind the shiny package. 

“Got something for me over there?” he wondered with a playful beam, “I thought we’re not doing presents until tomorrow morning.”

“Just a little teaser,” you answered. Your eyes shone brighter than the large decorated tree that stood at the corner of the living room. 

Being a detective, Walter could practically smell the mischief that drenched every teeny hair on your body. As usual, his naughty vixen was up to no good. It always made him laugh how bad you were in trying to surprise him, which worked in his favour. Walter hated surprises. 

Intrigued, he snatched the gift from your hands and shook it against his ear for shy second before beginning to unwrap it. His eyes briefly scrutinised yours, darkening, smokey with lust while he tore at the chrome paper and absentmindedly threw pieces of green wrapping all over the living room. 

You watched carefully, your cheeks rounding and filling, your teeth flashing with wickedness upon seeing the colour drain from his rugged face.

“Where…”

Walter paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. Fingers oily with sweat and knuckles turning white, dug into the object held in his hand.

“How did you find this?!”

The snort you’ve been trying to hold back for the last couple of minutes finally made its way out, followed by a fit of uncontrollable giggles that made you fall to your back with your hand held over your torso. 

Walter, on the other hand, was anything but amused. He always feared the day someone would dig up his dirtiest secret.

It was more than a decade ago when he was struggling to pay his tuition to the police academy that Walter found an easy and quick way to make money. As a British immigrant who barely had friends and blended with the crowd, he made the mistake of thinking no one will ever know about his short-lived modelling career for cheesy erotic novels. 

He should have known better. He might have been a professional police detective, but you had a skill for uncovering the truth.

“Where did you find this?” Walter repeated with a frown, clenching his jaw and waving the colorful book in the air.

Pausing your giggles merely for a second, you took a gander at the cover, focusing on the image of your dear husband’s open white shirt. There he was, the man you knew as a brooding, black-sweater wearing grump, lost in some green meadow with a half-naked chick. A deep dramatic gaze crisped his younger face, his nose inhaling the scent of her hair, and his hand laid flat upon her juicy rump. 

Oh the drama!

You tried to speak, but all that came out of your mouth was an uncontrollable peal of chuckles. The corny title of the book didn’t help either; his fiery love rod.

Walter sulked and suddenly shuffled to hover above you, one hand snapped at your wrist before the other discarded the book onto your sternum and joined in restraining your other arm. Led purely by instinct, your legs spread to straddle his wide waist and wrapped around his muscular ass.

Staring at your strong, intimidating husband, the laughter rolling from your lips slowly died down, yet the smile was still smeared between your cheeks, especially once you felt his groin pressing into yours.

“Woman!” the big bear growled at you, “I am not going to ask you more than once, where on earth did you bloody find this?”

“The second-hand bookstore,” you answered and glanced at the book lying upon your chest, “was looking for something raunchy to read when suddenly I noticed a familiar face.” You explained and then swallowed the dryness in your throat. 

“At first I thought I was hallucinating with all them Christmas carols eating into my brain, but then when I took a closer peek, I recognised my husband’s ‘fuck me’ stare.” 

Walter felt a burn rising in his throat and swerving to tingle at his bristly cheeks. If there ever was a moment when he regretted a life decision, that moment was now. He knew he’d never hear the end of it from you. You were dauntless and unyielding as the ocean, one of the reasons why he was utterly in love with you. 

Nostrils flaring, he tightened the grasp around your wrists and rolled his hips into yours, eliciting a small moan from your quivering lips. The thick bulge in his groin hardened at the calling of the hot, wet patch in your panties.

“Name your terms, woman.”

“You are going to read it to me,” you answered without even overthinking and gestured toward the book with your chin. “Every. night. before. bedtime. I want you to hold me in your big strong arms and read me a chapter from ‘his fiery love rod’, or else…”

“Or else?...” 

The fire from the mental suddenly illuminated your face, causing dark shadows to form over your irises and the hollows below your brows. “Your friends at the MPD are going to find out about this one,” you paused, “and the 12 others that you made.”

Taken back by your words, Walter gulped, his fingers became moist around your wrists as sheer horror seeped into his mind.

“You... you know about the others?”

You nodded at him and then snaked your legs around the back of his thighs to cage him in your grasp like a fickle dryad growing her roots around a helpless wanderer. With his attention faltering, you twisted your hips and rolled the two of you so you were on top. Fingers lacing into his, you pinned him down and leered over him with cascading triumph.

“12 books, all under our Christmas tree, detective, so you better be good to me tonight and satisfy all my needs.”

Adam apple bobbing up and down, Walter watched you with a mixture of awe and agitation. There was nothing he hated more than losing control, but damn if he didn’t adore his wicked queen, especially when you were in a joyous mood, which, as he found, tended to be contagious. The moments in which the grouchy detective felt at peace were rare to non-existent. It was only in the embrace of your thighs that he thought that for a minute, everything is going to be okay.

Noticing the muscles of his jaw somewhat relax, you reached for the Christmas hat and slipped it off your head, placing it atop of his curly mess instead. Your hands held firmly onto Walter’s shoulders, and with a careful twist, you flipped the two of you over once again and shoved him down your torso while blissfully chanting.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight, hurry down the chimney tonight, hurry toniiiiiiiiiiight.”

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Disclaimer: I don’t own Night Hunter/Nomis or Walter Marshall

[fruitcoops]

Hi Eve! Just wondering if you could write a coops smut where one of them wears lingerie? You sort of explored the concept in the Valentines Day smut where Sirius wore thigh highs, but i was maybe thinking a fic where one of them wears a full set. Its all completely up to you!

How about both? Happy smutty Monday, folks! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for smut, subspace/ subdrop

It was Friday, and Remus was learning the glory of stockings on hockey thighs.

It was Thursday, and he began to wonder how to repay his lovely fiancé.

It was Sunday, two weeks after Valentine’s Day, and between flashes of thunder outside and damn near howls of pleasure into their traumatized pillows, Remus was still thinking about the socks.

It was Tuesday, a bye week, and the last piece of his plan clicked into place as Sirius hefted him further over the countertop by the muscle of his thigh with one hand keeping his chest flush to the cool marble.

It was Wednesday, and Remus smiled to himself as Sirius snuggled closer in the darkness of a quiet night in. He ran an absentminded hand through inky curls, relishing the soft puffs of Sirius’ breath on the hollow of his throat while their legs remained comfortably tangled. You have no idea what’s coming, he thought, letting his lips linger on Sirius’ forehead. No idea at all.

It was Sunday, and Remus had spent two minutes hyping himself up in the bathroom mirror. The rustling from their bedroom had stopped long before. “Alright, you can do this,” he murmured, leaning his hands on the edge of the sink. “You look hot. This isn’t weird. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”

“Mon loup?”

Anxiety leaped in Remus’ stomach. “One second!” he called back through the closed door. He stared at himself for a moment longer, then sighed. It was a stupid idea—there was no way Sirius would want to see him in something as silly as this. He looked ridiculous, and it wasn’t even worth it; any clothing would be off in a heartbeat anyway. Sirius always preferred skin-to-skin contact.

The lacy edge of the garter belt itched the peak of his hip as he blew out a slow breath. Did Remus still dream about Sirius’ thigh highs over a month later? Yes. Did that guarantee Sirius would have a similar reaction to seeing him in actual lingerie? Not necessarily.

Remus liked guarantees. They were safe. Soothing. Unquestionable.

“Are you alright?” Sirius’ voice floated through the door on a wave of concern.

Fuck it. The bathroom lights caught the silver buckles. It’s now or never. “You can’t laugh, okay?” he warned, closing a hand around the knob.

“I won’t. I have a surprise for you, too.”

That bit of curiosity gave him that last push of courage he needed to open the door and step out of the safety of the bathroom. His pulse skyrocketed, though whether it was from the sudden feeling of absolute exposure or the sight of Sirius waiting on their bed in some sort of sheer, lacy top, Remus couldn’t tell. Sirius stared at him, lips slightly parted. Remus cleared his throat and spread his hands. “Surprise?”

“Oh.”

“You look—you look great,” he managed lamely. There were a million better words to describe the lavender fabric cascading over the planes of Sirius’ chest, but his brain had been replaced by the blush prickling up his neck and face. Going for the basic black garter belt and underwear suddenly seemed subpar instead of classically sexy.

Sirius shifted on his knees and reached for him. “Viens ici.”

“It—” Remus faltered. His chest and legs were bare, save for the satiny clasps holding the garters in place on his thighs. Sirius was just staring, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It had been a long time since he felt self-conscious around Sirius; every bit of missed embarrassment flooded back at once as he sat on the foot of the bed. “I liked your socks on Valentine’s Day, and I figured—I dunno. This is the surprise, by the way.”

“C’mere.” Sirius’ eyes finally flickered up to his face without a trace of judgement.

“I’m here.”

“Here,” Sirius repeated, tugging him over to straddle his lap with an arm around Remus’ waist. He kissed him, soft and slow but undeniably wanting, before he leaned back. “You look so handsome, mon coeur.”

“Yeah?”

“Ouais.” And, god, if Remus didn’t love the way his voice curled around that word, turning it into a million perfectly lazy syllables.

He rolled the hem of Sirius’ top between his fingers and hummed against his mouth. “This is new.”

“You like it?”

“Mhmm.” It was hard to tear his eyes away from the shadow of muscle beneath the delicate fabric.

Mischief flickered over Sirius’ face. “It’s called a ‘babydoll’. Thought you might get a kick out of that.”

“Babydoll for my baby,” Remus teased, kissing his nose with a playful tug to the lace edges. Sirius’ gaze slipped back down to his lap—no, his legs—and his fingers toyed with the seam of the accompanying underwear. Remus placed a light kiss to the shell of his ear, watching every twitch of his hands. “What do you want?”

“To look at you.” There was nothing but honesty when Sirius glanced back to him. The intensity of it sent a spark up Remus’ spine; he had grown so used to Sirius’ general aura of focus that he had nearly forgotten what it felt like wholly directed on him.

“And…?”

“And nothing. Just to look.” Nervousness flickered across his fine features as he settled back against the headboard and pulled Remus with him. “Just for a minute, and then we can do whatever you—”

Remus silenced him with a kiss, bracketing his waist with his palms. The babydoll was like water under his touch, but Sirius was as solid as ever. “This is for you,” he said when they separated. “You can look for as long as you like.”

Except Sirius didn’t only want to look—he wanted to touch. That fact was made clear within seconds, when the hands smoothing up and down Remus’ thighs in rhythmic motions began dipping beneath the straps of his garter belt and sliding up to his narrow hips, then hooked around the backs of his bent knees. Sirius pressed one palm flat over his abs and Remus shivered, trailing his lips down his neck. He wasn’t aroused in the lightning-fast please please I need you now kind of way, but more of an I’m about to float into space if you don’t keep touching me like a treasure buzz.

“Re, honey,” Sirius murmured. It was only then that Remus realized most of his breaths were coming in short pants instead of kisses. The nickname was one of his favorites, reserved for the times when he was well and truly gone; it was more tender than mon coeur, and worlds more intimate than his own name or even sweetheart. He nipped the edge of Sirius’ jaw and felt him gasp.

Remus licked his lips as he pulled away just enough to speak. “D’you want me to take it off?”

“Never.”

He smiled. “It has to come off if you want to fuck me.”

“Deux pièces.” The arm around his lower back tightened as one hand came to rest on his ass, which was still fully covered by lace-lined black fabric. Remus had opted for the ‘boyshort’ choice, as it looked to be the most likely to prevent slippage.

That, and it had fewer strappy bits. The buckles were hard enough to figure out—adding an accidental wedgie into the mix seemed like a poor idea.

“Yeah, but the important piece can only come off if I take the fun one off first,” Remus explained, snapping one of the ties. Sirius stared at it for a long moment before blinking slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“Giving me puppy eyes isn’t going to flip this inside out, babes,” Remus laughed. “Two seconds.”

“But you’ll keep the fun part on, right?” Sirius slid down to lay next to him while he wrestled with the garter belt, hissing curses each time the buckles pinched his fingers. It was, quite possibly, the least sexy thing he had ever done. That did not seem to deter his fiancé—if anything, watching Remus struggle with black satin strips in the dark while laying flat on his back appeared to be the highlight of Sirius’ day.

The fog in his head cleared a bit as he worked his underwear down his thighs, being careful not to mess with the garters too much. It had taken him five full minutes to get the damn things on in the first place, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to waste another five that could be spent in much more pleasurable ways. “The ‘fun part’—” Remus couldn’t spare a hand to do air quotes, but he hoped Sirius got the gist. “—is a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Nope.”

He paused. “You’re not the one losing a fight to a few scraps of fabric.”

Sirius met his eyes, looking every inch the fallen angel with his hair splayed over the pillow and his lavender whatever-the-hell-glory pooling at his mid-chest. “Do you want me to take it off for you?”

“I thought you wanted the fun part to stay on.”

“Here.” Remus barely managed to kick the underwear off his ankles before Sirius shuffled over to lay between his thighs and attach his mouth just beneath the left garter.

“Oh, fuck me,” Remus huffed, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“Gimme a minute,” Sirius said into his skin while he licked a stripe up to the first buckle and carefully pulled it down to hook into its proper place. Remus arched his back, only to be pushed down a moment later as Sirius electrified patches of skin he didn’t even know he had. Teeth slipped along the curve of his muscle and nibbled just above the back of his knee; Remus clenched his hands in the sheets with a shuddering inhale and tried his best to keep his wits about him.

By the time Sirius moved on to his other thigh, he was a goner. He could practically feel his pulse through his dick and the fog had returned with a vengeance, blurring the world at the edges while he let go of the tension in his back. How could he possibly be stressed when Sirius was saying such pretty things? The warmth of lips on his thighs disappeared and he stretched his arms above his head, relishing in his own contentment and Sirius’ light laugh. “You’re lovely,” he mumbled. Really, it was the only appropriate word for the occasion.

There was a rustling sound next to him, but Remus didn’t bother paying attention to what it was—Sirius’ weight all around him was more than enough to occupy—

“Oh.” His eyes flashed open as a lube-slick finger pushed into him to the first knuckle. “Oh.”

“Were you listening?” Sirius sounded faintly amused. Remus smiled lazily; he must have missed a joke (or a warning) somewhere in the tumble of words from that lovely pout. He rocked his hips onto Sirius’ finger, stretching one leg out as the other remained bent and tilted away. It was only kept in place by Sirius’ free hand, but even the idea of being held sent a tingling feeling all the way to his toes.

“How many?” Remus asked, looping his arms under Sirius’ to pull him closer. He needed warmth, and the smooth familiarity of Sirius’s chest against his own. He needed the encompassing feeling of being covered, which had yet to fade, no matter how much more muscle he gained.

Sirius smiled into the side of his neck. “Two.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Are you still with me?”

“Sure.” The world zoomed back into 3D focus when Sirius’ fingers brushed his sweet spot and Remus gripped his shoulder blades with a hitch of breath—his free leg jerked inward at the sudden shift. “There. There, now.”

“I have other plans, sweetheart.”

“Now,” Remus insisted. He would give Sirius anything he wanted if it meant he could feel that thrill again. Their bedroom was dim, but the lights popping at the corners of his vision as Sirius closed a hand around his shaft and continued sliding two fingers into him were so very bright. Remus moved his hands down from Sirius’ shoulders to his hips, then lower to give him a hint. “Now?”

“I was going to do three—”

“Now,” Remus said, brooking no room for argument. He pushed Sirius’ chest until he rolled onto his back—bless the man for his quick thinking skills, because Remus’ new muscle still wasn’t enough to manhandle him properly—and settled himself into his previous position on Sirius’ lap.

A dark eyebrow arched, though his dilated pupils gave away Sirius’ true feelings. “Like this?”

“You said you wanted to look, didn’t you?” Thinking back, Remus couldn’t imagine how he could ever have been worried about this. He took a few deep breaths as he sank down, biting hard on his lip against the dizzy want prodding the edges of his mind. This needed to last. Sirius’ mouth was cherry red and wet when he glanced down, fully seated and feeling rather confident about the whole thing. “Then look.”

The first rock of his hips brought a whimper from plush lips and Remus grinned; he took Sirius’ hands and planted them on his thighs before bracing his own against the broad planes of his chest. Silky fabric parted under his palms and his smile widened into giddiness as he slid his hands beneath it to rest on warm skin. Sirius pushed the side of his face into the pillow with a huff of breath.

“No,” Remus panted as he continued to move, pulling Sirius’ chin back up. His hands were shaking when he cupped his face. “Look. L—look at me.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and his silver gaze flickered down to the garter belt; Remus let his head fall back as long fingers toyed with the straps, sometimes tugging gently, sometimes snapping fireworks through his legs. The power shift between them ebbed and flowed like the tide. He wanted a tsunami.

He worked the words around in his mouth for a moment, unsure of how to ask for what he wanted. One of Sirius’ hands traveled to his back and began moving in steady presses up and down his spine. “Fuck me,” Remus pleaded.

A synchronized roll of their hips made them both moan. “I am,” Sirius said breathlessly.

Remus licked his lips and made a valiant effort to get air back into his lungs. “Please.”

His expression must have made the message clear enough, because understanding rippled across the puzzlement on Sirius’ face in mere moments; with a firm squeeze, Remus’ hips stopped cold. Mistake, his brain thought immediately as Sirius’ dick rested directly on his prostate. Mistake, mistake, keep moving or you’re gonna—

“Remus.”

The whine that tore from his mouth would have been embarrassing if he had any self-conscious braincells left to spare. He bit his lip again, teetering on a knife’s edge while his thighs shook and his knees slid on the sheets.

“Deep breaths.”

One.

“One more for me.”

Two. He was wheezing slightly with the effort of keeping down his moans.

“Try again.”

A frustrated grumble built in his chest, but he obliged. Three. The air was warm and smelled like Sirius; it was intoxicating. His next breath was even deeper, and he let it fill him.

“Good job.”

Something in Remus perked its ears up and he managed a lopsided smile, blinking his eyes open to look down at Sirius. His face was still soft, but his eyes had a tarnished edge to them that sent a shiver down Remus’ spine and nearly undid all his hard work.

“Color?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Green.”

“Are you slipping?”

Slipping, slipped, gone for good, he thought. “Mhmm.”

Sirius laid him back down, catching himself from sliding out at the last second. Remus arched his back at the slow press in. “How do you want it?”

“I already told you twice,” he said, planting a kiss to Sirius’ upper lip. The warm touch around his thighs had not faltered yet. “Come on, Captain, you know what I want.”

Sirius positioned his legs to wrap around his waist and kissed him fully, stealing the breath from Remus’ body in one fell swoop as he began to move his hips again; the pace increased so steadily that Remus nearly lost himself in it. The lace of the garter belt no longer itched, but slid in a blissful rhythm instead. The bits of cold where the small buckles rubbed against his skin were a mind-melting contrast to the cocoon of warmth he sank into.

“M—” Remus didn’t even get the word out before Sirius gave him a hard thrust and pressed their tangled fingers further into the mattress. He muffled a shout into the dip of his shoulder and sucked a mark there between moans. “Oh, fuck, Sirius.”

His head was spinning with the mixture of sensations—he had been so focused on being full that he almost forgot about the hand still moving terribly slow along his shaft. One leg kicked out on its own accord and he twitched, one hip canting upward until Sirius held it back down without breaking stride. Remus’ breaths were little more than staccato moans; he knew bringing out Sirius’ dominant side was an easy switch to flip, but he hadn’t been expecting the change to be quite so sudden. Not that he was complaining, of course.

Sirius let go of his hand to drag his leg back up, fingertips digging in just below the garter as the new angle drew a desperate ‘holy shit’ from Remus and a squeak of protest from their bedsprings. He had forgotten how long it had been since Sirius truly railed his lights out—the tingling sensation racing through his thighs and up to his chest was a welcome companion.

And he began to laugh.

Breathless and practically hiccups, but a laugh all the same. He could see Sirius’ confusion in his mind’s eye despite the fact that he had given up on trying to keep his eyes open several thrusts prior. The movement slowed. “What?” Sirius asked. “What’s so funny?”

“I fucking love you,” Remus said between gasps.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know.” Something warm slid down his cheek. “It’s so good and I can’t—I don’t know. Keep moving, please, please.”

Sirius’ thumb swiped across his cheekbone and he picked up the pace again; Remus’ shocked laughter faded back into panting and babbling within a few seconds, but the pure elation didn’t slip until he felt his orgasm approaching and resorted to leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along the line of Sirius’ collarbone and neck. Sirius liked his mouth, liked feeling it on him, and Remus could tell that he was getting close by the heat building under his palms where he struggled to find a handhold.

“I l—I lo—I love you,” he managed, adding a love bite to his collection around a groan. They were both sweaty messes, but the salt on his lips was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, too.” Sirius’ voice was just as labored as his own, buzzing against every pleasure center Remus had.

“I lo—” He broke off with a strangled shout as Sirius squeezed the sensitive part of his thigh at the same time as a thrust. There was nowhere for his mouth to go. He bit down hard on instinct.

Sirius hissed in pain and Remus immediately pulled away, feeling frantic and worried and awful. “Ow.”

“ ‘m sorry,” he said, still a little wild as he covered Sirius’ cheek in apologetic kisses and searched for a hand to hold. “ ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius assured him, soothing his hands as they skimmed across his body. “Just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.” Horror tried to push in around the tangle of joy-want-need-more, but there simply wasn’t room. Remus settled for running his trembling fingers through Sirius’ hair and kissing him gently. He hoped it would be enough.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Sirius said against his lips, rubbing circles with his thumb in the crease of Remus’ hip and thigh. The whirlwind in his head calmed to tv static—the world tunneled to them and their bed. Remus buried his face in Sirius’ neck and slid deep under.

He registered the pressure of Sirius’ hands and the feeling of his own throat pouring out nonsense; he felt his muscles clench and the slide of satin on sweaty skin before balling his fists so tight in Sirius’ babydoll top that it nearly tore. He heard his own breaths become shallow, knew it was Sirius’ hand running along the crown of his dick, and finally, finally shuddered apart with a hitching whine.

“Re, honey.”

Remus sighed through his nose and held him close. He was beyond comfortable, if not a little sticky. Again, his body suggested.

No, his brain answered immediately.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

“I can’t,” Remus slurred.

Lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. “What can’t you do?”

“Go again.”

He felt laughter from the weight above him—Sirius, his brain supplied with a happy fizz down his back—and let his legs be pulled back down to the mattress. “Yeah, not a chance.”

The warmth inside him slipped away and he winced. “Put it back.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Cause we’re definitely done.” The laughter returned, bright as a summer day, and he rubbed his face in the hollow of angular collarbones where the vibration was strongest. “How are you feeling?”

“Noodle.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Remus closed his eyes and stifled a yawn; the world could wait until he was done with his nap.

“Hey.” Someone tapped his hip and he frowned. “No falling asleep yet.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, but we need water and a shower.”

Remus squirmed around until he could fix Sirius with a look. “Can’t stand up.”

“You hate sleeping while you’re sweaty.”

Fair point. Remus became suddenly and harshly aware of how sticky he was and pulled a face, flexing his fingers on Sirius’ back. The high was softening; he felt more settled in himself already. He nudged Sirius until he laid down, then curled into his ribs with an arm and a leg slung over his body. The aftershocks raced in pops of lightning down his legs. “Teddy bear.”

“Hmm?”

“Teddy bear,” he repeated. “ ’s all you are, at the end of the day. I love it. I love you.”

Sirius pulled him closer and kissed his temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He stretched all four limbs and felt his elbow pop, then relaxed. “Much better. Alright, I need to get this thing off.”

If trying to put the garter belt on had been difficult, it was nothing compared to forcing his unsteady and sweat-slick fingers to get it off. “Do you need some help?” Sirius asked, amused.

“No.”

He struggled for a moment longer, spoiling the sweetness of the drop with frustration, before Sirius’ hands replaced his own and carefully untied each strap so he could get it off properly. “There you go.”

Remus kicked it to the floor and glared balefully at it. “I love you, but I’m never wearing that again.”

“Never?”

“Maybe one more time,” he conceded. The confidence boost had been dizzying. “As long as you keep this.”

Sirius looked down at where Remus’ fingers were tugging with the hem of his slip. “I really like it, too.”

“The color’s nice.”

“C’mere.” Sirius wrapped his other arm around Remus’ shoulders and drew him in for a snuggle, rubbing his back with one hand. “Let me know when I can get us some water, okay?”

“You can go, if you need to.”

“Really?”

He hesitated, then moved his head to rest above Sirius’ heartbeat. “No.”

“D’accord.” Sirius kissed his forehead again.

Remus lasted three minutes before he couldn’t stand the tacky feeling of the lube any longer, but those three minutes were the coziest he could remember. Sirius was warm and traced patterns over his bare skin; his soft lips decorated Remus’ face, simultaneously lulling him and keeping him from falling asleep. With a sigh, he detached his arms. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Sirius promised. The room was darker without him—the bed stayed warm. Remus scooted over into the indent he left and basked in the memory, cataloguing his aches. Abs? Sore. Arms? Still good. Thighs? A bit chafed from lace, but alright. Neck? Scattered with love bites he couldn’t recall receiving, though that was a fairly common occurrence.

“That was quick,” he mumbled when the other side of the mattress dipped.

Sirius shrugged. The babydoll shift was tragically absent. “The usual two minutes, actually.”

“Must have zoned out,” he hummed, leaning into the cool washcloth on his face. A few tears always slipped out when they dipped into rougher territory, though he never felt sad. It was just…overwhelming, in the best way.

Sirius cleaned his thighs with the same careful touch as his face before handing him a cup of water. “Are you hungry?”

“Nope.” Remus downed the glass in two gulps and opened his arms. “Bedtime.”

“No pajamas?” Sirius asked with a laugh, though he obliged and let Remus laminate himself to his side.

“Unnecessary.”

“No shower?”

His instinctive response was god no, cuddles take precedence and I’m dead on my feet, but a shower did sound nice. Sirius washing his hair, scrubbing the last bits of shakiness and his drop away, going to bed clean…

“Alright,” he agreed grudgingly. “We’re probably going to need to change the sheets, too.”

“That can wait until we’re done.” And before he could even attempt to stand on his own, Sirius gathered him into his arms and hoisted him off the bed. If he wasn’t afraid he’d fall flat on his face without help, Remus would have protested. “Mon dieu, I forgot how muscly you are now.”

“Says the man who can’t stop ogling me whenever I take my shirt off,” Remus teased, then frowned when he saw the purpling bruise on Sirius’ neck. “Holy shit, my dentist could identify me with that thing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sirius paused in the bathroom doorway and kissed him hard, stirring the last dregs of arousal in Remus’ gut. “You have blanket permission to do that whenever you like.”

Remus gaped at him, speechless. “Well, that’s not fair,” he managed. “I’m tired.”

“Not a bad way to spend a Sunday night,” Sirius mused. His sneaky squeeze of Remus’ ass did not go unnoticed. “In my personal opinion, of course.”

“Of course,” Remus said drily. Maybe a shower wasn’t the worst idea after all. His knees weren’t nearly sore enough yet.

[wornoutmouse]

Dio x black reader (18+)

Honestly, this is just my headcanon of Dio experiencing black girl magic for the first time. And throughout re-reading it I can't tell if I'm supposed to be horny, moved, or amused. I think this is my longest one

Chav: White Trash/Low ClassLove

Divots: Love handles but I wanted to be fancy

You were a cop that loved your job no matter the hardships.

Walking the streets of England was risky business as both a woman and a person of color so you had experienced numerous close calls with criminals that didn't take your training seriously. Your co-workers were peaceful enough, but you didn't miss the lustful glazes you would receive as you walked through the office every morning. Your boss, on the other hand, was a menace. Ever since you denied his advances when you first arrived, he's been making it his mission in life to make your life miserable. 

He, of course, was the reason you were standing outside at 11:00 in the night shivering under a night post. "That bloody chav, just wait till I move up in ranks!" you growled wrapping your trenchcoat tightly around your body as a soft gust of wind blew against you. 

The wind howled past your ears and for once you were glad for wearing your nautural hair out today as it braced fiercely against the strong winter winds. The night was quiet as everyone in their right mind had headed inside for the night but you couldn't help but feel as though eyes were trained on you. "Must be my nerves acting up again." you muttered rubbing your gloved hands together. You huffed causing cool white air to form in front of you. 

"Meow."

Shifting where you stood, you look around with only your eyes, trying to find the source of what you hope to be a newfound friend. A few feet to your right stood a thin tom cat walking hesitantly towards you. You crouch lowly, opening your coat to the feline, "Join me oh furry one, let us share our life source with each other!" 

 You chuckle at your own foolishness but stop as you watch in amazement as the cat seemed to be convinced as it stalks towards you. The cat was within your very grasp but before you could grab it, it jerked its head to gaze behind you, hissing with its back arched before it scampered off. "Huh, that's funny." 

 You stand back up before yelping as you back into someone standing behind you. "Oh excuse me." you say stepping to the side. "No need for apologize woman." a deep voice responds to you. The man was tall and you had to crane your neck just to simply gaze up at him. 

 Blue eyes gazed down at you through golden locks that fell beautifully over his face. Even though he had shown no sign of hostility, you felt great unease by simply standing near him. "Your declaration of neutrality for the cat moved me deeply." the strange man declared, and you couldn't help but giggle awkwardly at the obvious joke. "Yeah well, during times of need it's best to set aside differences." The man raised his hand to his chin in thought. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

 The man had yet to leave as his gaze became even more unsettling. His eyes traveled down and settled on your curvacious hips. "Um, can I help you sir?" you ask backing up slightly only for the tall man to evade the space once again. Under his breath, you could hear the man mutter, "Yes, you are perfect." 

You look up at the man one more time as your eyesight begins to fades to black.  

 When you came to, you find yourself lying down on a bed that was not your own. You were dressed loosely in nothing but a silk slip and you could feel goosebumps along your skin from being exposed to the cool air. "Wha-what?" You jerk your head at the shift in movement to your right. At first glance, you couldn't see anything residing in the dark shadows of the room. But having years of experience with being in dark places, your eyes quickly adjusted as you noticed the unfamiliar ways the shadows blended together.

 You stare blankly into the darkness, positive that something resided within the cover of it. You suck in a breath as you feel a small shift in temperature move past your face and you quickly turn your face to the other side of the room.

"As I thought, you adjust quickly to your surroundings." a voice rumbled from the darkness and you could hear your heart thump in your ears as two bright red eyes peered at you from the end of the bed. You brought your legs to your chest as you felt the bed dip. You watched with fearful eyes as your assailant crawled towards you. From the darkness, a hand reaches out at lightning speed taking hold of your ankle, dragging you towards them. "What do you want?!"

As if oblivious to your agitation, a calloused hand takes hold of your thigh, gripping the large expanse of skin tightly. "While you are larger than preferred, I assume it is a given if I desire a woman with hips wide enough to effectively deliver me respectable offspring." You sputter as you feel your face warm, "Offspring?! What in the hell are you talking about you deviant!" You attempt to throw a punch only for your wrists to be taken captive by much larger ones. "This temper of yours may be a problem however." The man chuckled, "Though I supposed that too is a given due to your, 'ethnic' background." You glare through the darkness up at the deranged man, "You have some nerve." 

As if finally acknowledging you as a sentient being, he gazes up at you, eyebrows furrowed and red glowing eyes determined. "Young woman, fear not and rejoice for you have been chosen for the highest honor imaginable!" You tense as the man comes closer to your face, 'Damn it, it's always the pretty ones.' you silently think to yourself. Though there was a large shift in eye color, this was indeed the man you met outside.

 "You have been chosen personally by I Dio Brando! To become his queen in the new empire I shall forge in my own image!" 

 Many emotions flowed through your mind at that bold statement, but in the end, humor won out as you burst into laughter in the man, Dio's face. Dio tilted his head in slight confusion before moving on, dawning a triumphant face one again.

"I know not what you find amusing, but I am ready to implant my seed deep inside your womb!" At that, you suddenly realize the reality of the situation you were in, "You can't be serious, release me now!" Dio chuckled humorously, "It is okay to feel frightened, but I assure you, I will make this pleasurable for you as well." You open your mouth to retort, Dio, serges forward latching onto your lips with painful passion. You feel a shiver journey up your spine as Dio's larger hands hold your waist squeezing your love divots.

Dio releases you from his lip-lock with a loud smack as a thin strand of saliva connects the two of you. You blink; slightly dazed as you take in Dio's equally as flushed face, "What's the matter playboy? Cat got your tongue?" Dio frowned at your teasing as he shifted in place, "Have you somehow cast a spell on me? There is no other way to explain how someone with such prestige as me could possibly become undone by a simple kiss."

 Dio serges forward once again capturing your plump lips into his own with such fervor, you would think he was searching for something. You moan softly into the kiss as Dio's tongue explored your mouth, caressing every inch of it with purpose. Tugging your lower lip in between his teeth as he retreats. He looks at you for a while with visible confusion before speaking again, "The only other answer for this is obvious. You were bestowed onto me by the gods carved perfectly to aid me on my journey" 

 You quirked an eyebrow as you breathe shallowly, mind seemingly clouded with your newfound lust. "I don't know much about what your babbling on about, but I'll let you carry on." You fell back as you are folded over by Dio, legs propped high in the air. "Though I feel that cunnilingus isn't needed for the task at hand, I hold the desire to taste you." You roll your eyes as you listened to the monologue 'Dio' declared to himself.

Internally, you knew that this was a bad idea and only evil could follow you in being involved with this man but some unseen force was keeping you from resisting as you lied compliant under the larger man. Maybe he was right and 'the gods' placed you here for a purpose. Or maybe you were drugged. The most obvious answer, though you hate to admit, was the fact that you hadn't gotten laid in so long, you were willing to accept charity cases.

 

Dip looked down at you with an emotion that even I, the author am unable to describe. While I would love to say it was fondness, that just wasn't possible for how short of a time you've known each other. The only other word I can think out would maybe be admiration. 

 Dio was one to go above and beyond putting his heart into everything he did, but your simplicity aroused him so greatly it was rather concerning. Your attitude towards him ensured that you would be the perfect queen when he molded you accordingly. Your looks were only a bonus, slender legs heightening your perspective making you at least 6 feet in height though that was no novelty considering his large build. 

Plump lips with a curious sliver of pink covering the entrance of your bottom lip as they parted so beautifully. The taste of them sent his head spinning as if he was addicted, the best kind of addiction. Your skin though shrouded in darkness, shined so brightly in the moonlight that he would have thought you were glowing with an otherwordly power. Dio once again bows his head and captures your luscious lips within his to experience the euphoria once again.

 He may have said that you should be honored to be in his presence but at the moment he felt the greatest honor for being one of the few and one of the last men that would be allowed to bed you. The small whimpers you released as he explored your mouth tasted like the sweetest nectar. He released you and watched your breast heave from the passion he released. 

 He would never admit to these claims but at that moment Dio looked as if he had struck gold as he pulled up your slip and kissed into the crevices of your stomach. You shiver as more skin was exposed to the cool air and you would have sworn Dio was even colder. "If you would, please allow me to taste you." 

Your eyes widened for even you could tell that this manner of speaking was not the norm for Dio. His face was unusually flushed as his red eyes gazed up at you pleading for your permission. "Carry on." was all you said before he continued on his journey, kissing your inner thighs which to your horror, were bare as the day you were born. "Sir, may I ask where my undergarments reside?!" you ask thoroughly embarrassed causing Dio to dawn that shit-eating smirk he has carried since the moment you met.

 "I saw no point to them as I knew they would be off soon enough." You pouted as Dio peppered kisses on your navel before finally licking your clitoris with his rather rough tongue. Dio felt as though he reached Nirvana as he drank in your pleasured moans. The taste of you on his tongue was like the finest wine and he couldn't tell if it was from his carnivorous attributes or were you truly a diamond in the rough. 

 You grip the sheets below you as Dio used his tongue to caress your folds before delving deeper into your warm heat. Dio had long since grown used to the feeling of being cold but the way your warmth surrounded him made him miss the feeling. Internally he debated with himself if this is what love felt like or if this was just the effects of having your thick thighs clamped around his head. While feasting, Dio couldn't help by growl lowly as your nimble finger-combed through his hair only to clench as he made a peculiar lick to your upper walls.

 Feeling satisfied for now he sits up chuckling at your whine as you reached out for him. "I was not going to undress more than necessary for this but I feel as though you have earned it my pet." Dio removed his jacket and shirt exposing his impressive muscles. You salivate thinking of the power behind each pectoral that would now be used on you. 

Dio once again takes hold of your legs, but instead of positioning to enter you, he lifts you off the bed holding you in his arms. "I shall honor this experience by trying a position I have never done before."  You are slightly woozy from the shift in elevation as you wrap your arms around Dio's neck with such a force and normal man would have cried out. 

 (but not dio cause he isn't like other girls)

 Dio kisses you as he presses a hesitant finger inside of you. You moan as he trails kisses down your neck. He was extremely hesitant to even nibble you due to his fangs but the way your looked drowning in pleasure was too great to not take advantage of. You jump as you feel something sharp pierce your neck but not deep enough to draw blood. You spasm on his fingers as your first orgasm takes over you. "God yes!" Dio smirked at your blissed face as he once again takes your lower lip into his mouth.

 "Yes, thank your God for giving you such satisfa-" before he could finish, you lifted yourself and wrapped your legs around his neck, putting all your weight on him in order to cause him to fall back on the ground. "Don't ruin this please." You say looking down at him. 

Dio couldn't look more in love as he takes hold of your ass molding it in between his large hands. You scoot down to Dio's still clocked cock. Massaging it gently, before reaching in and pulling it out, you release a loud gasp at the sight. His cock was enormous, far bigger than any you had seen before. "Don't look so surprised my dear, from now on only expect the most of me." 

You gulp shallowly as you shyly lick the shaft trying to find a way to lube the monstrosity. Dio grits his teeth and closes his eyes as a way to truly feel the pleasure you were delivering to him. You knew you couldn't take him all the way in but damn it if you weren't going to try. As you sucked down, you felt a hand come to rest on your head pushing you forward as Dio grunted. "Take it pet, you can do it." 

You whimper as you feel the head of his cock touch the back of your throat and continuing down. You do your best to breathe out your nose since it was obvious that Dio wasn't letting you stop anytime soon. You had only a little left to go but you knew you wouldn't be able to so you tapped out. Dio smirked grabbing your waist and sitting you down on his cock. Briefly, you rock back and forth covering it in your fluids before you feel like your ready.

"Because you've been so good for me pet, I'll allow you this gift though I personally feel that simply being in my presence you should be wetter than the ocean!" in his had, there is a small box containing a flask. "Alcohol?" you asked sniffing lightly over the entrance. Before you can raise the drink to your lips, Dio snatches it away, "It's oils my dear." you laugh a little scratching the back of your head.

 Dio's face reddened from the sound of your laughter but he shook his self out of his stupor before you could notice. Taking the lube back, you pour a generous amount on your hand before massaging it along with Dio's cock which had now turned a bit pink from being unattended for so long. "How long is this thing?" you mutter silently to yourself making Dio smirk flicking his hair haughtily. "I don't think I should tell you for your mortal mind would not be able to comprehend its glor-" Dio choked on his words quickly reaching out to hold your plush thighs as you slid down a 5th of the way on his cock. 

"Sl-Slow down, pet, w-wouldn't want you to hurt yourself!" Dio moaned as you lightly bounced holding your thighs in a vice grip. Throughout the dark and empty room, you could the high moans you released as you slowly but surely impaled yourself further. "D-Dio, I'm tired!" you stuttered out taking time to catch your breath. "Good." was all Dio said before he began fucking up into you pushing the rest of his member inside of you. 

 Tear's welled up in your eyes as you felt as if you were being split into by his brute strength. You fell forward on Dio's chest having no strength left in your body to hold yourself up as his pelvis slammed into you rhythmically. "Feel me. Feel as your body molds itself perfectly for my cock!" Dio grabs your arms and yanks them back forcing you to sit up and bounce on his cock subsequently making him sheath deeper into you. "Christ!" you cried out as you felt his cock reach impossibly deep inside of you. Your walls trembled with each push of your cervix.

 You were dripping limitlessly on Dio's stomach as your fluids combined together in a swirl of emotion. An emotion so great, neither of you could deny what was there. The way that this otherwise complete stranger was enraptured with you as he watched you boil over with ecstasy was an emotion unmeasured by any science the world would ever be able to come up with. "I'm coming!" Dio declared as he slammed your hip down as he reached his peak, spilling his seed deep within you just as he promised. You shiver as you felt a new kind of warmth filling you to the brim. Dio bends towards you, once again taking your lips within his as he circles your clit bringing you to a satisfying orgasm.

[cyoza]

adrenaline; part two

there's a horniness in this chilis tonight

I'm slowly working myself up to multiple chapters and different energies in my writing so I'm going to try and do one more chapter that's a complete 180 from the rest of them. I'm also really trying to develop writing stuff that's like outside of my comfort zone, hence this sort of filler ~smutty~ chapter

NSFW ahead!! 

Thank you to those who read my work, its always appreciated!

part one 

part three 

part four 

part five 

part six 

******************************************************************************************

Kory had barely shut the door of the bedroom before Dick gripped her waist and thrust her forward into it, pressing himself against her back so she could feel every line of his body. If the sharp hitch of her breath and the way she pushed her hips back against his own was anything to go by, she more than liked the roughness of his actions. They’d done this enough times that he knew her likes and dislikes on a basic level. But tonight was different. Tonight, Dick wanted to push the boundaries. To open himself up in a way that he’d never done before. 

So he tested the waters further, sliding his hand from her waist up over her stomach to land at her throat, curling his fingers around it. There was a deepening in Kory’s breathing as she tilted her head back that filled him with a sense of power that elated him in a way he’d never felt before. The feeling sent a heated ripple of pleasure throughout his whole body, a particular stirring in his jeans catching his attention. 

He needed to move this along. ASAP. 

So he lifted the free arm by his side, winding it around the expanse of her thigh to slip into the black lace covering her most sensitive area. Dick delved deeper, his fingers finding her clit and stroking it gently, drawing out a low, gasping moan from Kory. It wasn’t long before her legs began to buckle, the only sound coming from her were short, whimpering pants. Dick used his thumb from the hand around her neck to tilt her head to the side, determined to look her in the eye as she came. But her eyes fluttered closed as she faced him, unable to keep them open. Which just wouldn’t do. 

‘Open your eyes. Look at me.’ He demanded, his voice stronger than his spirit. 

Even still, Kory swept her eyelashes upwards, her hooded gaze meeting his weakly. Dick continued with his movements, Kory putty in his hands. The clench of her thighs around his hand let him know that she was close so he sped up his fingers, tightening the hand around her throat. She could do nothing but clutch his arm as her knees gave out, swept over by the kaleidoscope of pleasure that erupted in her mind, almost falling to the floor if it wasn’t for Dick’s fast reflexes catching her shoulders and holding her up. 

He watched her intently as she leaned back against him, attempting to catch her breath. The blissful expression on her face had him sure he would burst at any minute. 

But Kory had other ideas; she was going to prolong this for as long as she could manage. 

So pulled herself up, using his arm as an anchor, standing tall before spinning on her heel to face Dick. She looked up at him, gliding her tongue across her bottom lip, her stare never wavering. She raised her arm to his chest, tracing a circle over his shirt before pushing him backwards.  The atmosphere had shifted - Dick was no longer in control here, and he knew it. 

‘Do you trust me?’ She asked in a low voice. 

‘Of course I do.’ He replied, equally husky as he continued to step back, guided by the hand on his chest. The back of his knees soon came into contact with the edge of the bed but she didn’t stop there, pushing him back until his head came into contact with the headboard. 

Kory swung her leg over his so she straddled him, the open shirt flurrying around her as she leaned forward to grab the cable of his phone charger. Dick’s heart leapt into his throat to think what she could possibly do with it. She was the one in the vulnerable position, wearing next to nothing against Dick being fully clothed yet somehow, she held all the power in this situation. She had him twisted around her little finger. 

But she knew him well enough to catch the flicker of trepidation so she asked again ‘Do you trust me? Do you want this?’ 

Again he reassured her with a firm ‘Yes.’ And he did trust her. More than anyone. And if tonight had proven anything, it was that she knew him better than anyone, seeing right through him on more than one occasion this evening alone. So he had faith that whatever ride she had planned, was one that he wanted to be on. 

‘Good.’ She sent him a soft smile of comfort. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now it’s time for me to have mine. Lift up your arms.’ She instructed. Her tone had his blood boiling and his pulse roaring in his ears. 

He did as she asked, pressing his hands against the wood above his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Kory clasped his wrists and looped the cord around them then through the gap between the planks of wood on the headboard. She made sure the knot was tight prior to leaning back to observe him, the smile on her face thoroughly menacing. He watched as she lifted herself up to slip the button up down her shoulders, her motions slow and deliberate. 

Eventually Kory sat above him without an iota of clothing. The gleam of the streetlight slipped through the gaps in the blinds and highlighted the dip of her stomach, the perk of her breasts. Dick wanted nothing more than to lift himself up and capture one in his but his attempt failed, the wire around his hands not allowing him to lift his torso any further than a few inches. His efforts were met with a devious chuckle from Kory as she leaned forward to place her lips by his ear. His arousal was so apparent at this point that there was no way she couldn’t feel it, especially from where she sat in his lap. 

‘I told you. It’s my turn.’ She whispered, pressing a kiss behind his earlobe. Dick didn’t know how long he would last if she kept this up, the exasperation of not being able to touch her heightened every sensation.

But still she continued, pressing gentle kisses wherever she went; down his neck, over his t shirt past his chest until she stopped, just above the waistline of his jeans. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, unfastening the button and Dick lifted his hips to help her remove them but she just pushed them back down. Instead she reached into his boxers, wrapping a hand around him and liberating him from his pants. His hips jerked upwards without his permission but the action only motivated her as she placed her mouth around the tip, extracting a low guttural groan from Dick. She was relentless as she took him deeper, the constraints exacerbating his frustration. He knew he could easily rip through them if he really wanted but he revelled in the intensity of just having to do nothing but feel. So that’s what he did, until he felt the familiar swirl of lightheadedness clouding his mind. 

Kory seemed to sense this and unexpectedly stopped, releasing him from her mouth and sitting back on her ankles in one swift move. He let out a moan of protest but could do nothing but watch her as she flashed him a mischievous smile.  

‘I’m not done with you just yet, Grayson.’ 

She travelled up his body back to her previous position in his lap. This time she lifted herself up before pushing him into her, purposefully and leisurely and Dick wasn’t sure how long he would last. Even still Kory sped up, leaving him at her mercy and trying to hold out until she got what she wanted. Soon enough Kory’s rhythm grew unstable and yet again her thighs began to tighten around him and Dick could be nothing but thankful, feeling the tension overtake his body, making him aware he wouldn’t last for more than a few moments longer. Sure enough, promptly, his mind tilted as he let himself go. Succumbing to sheer pleasure. 

Kory delivered one last roll of her hips before collapsing on top of him, her head in the crook of his neck as she quivered through her orgasm. Dick pulled through the dizzying haze of his own to turn his head and kiss her forehead, basking in his euphoria. However, it wasn’t long before he was reminded of his immobilisation. 

‘‘Hey, um, how 'bout you untie me now?’  

[nympsycho-ao3]

Dimessa Temporaneamente

Want to read on AO3? Click here! (please heed the tags!)

Three years after your escape from Cioccolata's enslavement, you've finally gotten used to the taste of freedom.

Unfortunately for you, Cioccolata knows better than to let you run free, and he's more vicious and vindictive than ever before. He has so much to show you, revealing his newfound pet and talents in the most visceral, repulsive way possible. After all, three years of disobedience can't go uncompensated.

Please heed the tags. Contains graphic depictions of torture, sexual, physical, and mental abuse, drug abuse/use, and major character death.

A sequel to "Mia Piccola Cagnolina", though it is not necessary to read before this one.

A commission fic.

 Escaping Cioccolata’s bondage was a formidable challenge, but just one lucky break was all you needed. You’d memorized his work schedule, his meal times, the sound of his heavy footsteps above you to map his routines. It all paid off; freedom is sweet, the smell of morning dew dotted with earth from last night’s rain.

 “Calm down, Rynke,” you murmur to yourself, sliding open the door for the plucky pug that toddles out onto the porch. He’s been attached to you at the hip since the day you picked him up from the shelter.

 You swear you can still hear       his     laugh, sadistic and deep.

 Luckily, the calls of birds drown it out, your eyes closing to enjoy the distraction. You bring the  mug of coffee to your lips and take a sip, a bit too hot to enjoy. Luckily, that’s just how you like it.

 His chuckle returns to your from the depths of your psyche, souring the coffee in the bottom of your mouth. You choke down bitterness as your brows furrow, your lip curling with disgust. Your wound pain is truly psychosomatic, flaring up every time you remember what was done to you.

 You’ve healed more than you thought you would in three years, though it definitely wasn’t easy.

 Rynke settles, plopping down onto the porch. It’s unusual for him to be quiet, but it’s even more unusual for him to growl as harshly as he does now. Your eyes open, only to be greeted by the serenity of nature as it always was, looking out for moose or lynx that might have alarmed him.

 There’s nothing but the rustling of the trees.

 Until suddenly, there’s      nothing    .

 And then there’s everything.

 Rynke barks ceaselessly as your vision is obstructed by what feels like a suffocating vice around your face. The fabric of it sucks into the gape of your mouth as you try to take in air, fear forcing air into your lungs with a gasp.

 Your coffee splashes from the mug and onto your chest with a sickening scorch before the ceramic shatters at your feet. You cry out, the noise muffled by the sudden clamping around your trachea. The stranglehold forces you into action, flailing your arms out desperately, only for them to be caught by something, or some      one    , stonelike and strong.

 You tremble profoundly as your arms are bent behind your back, fighting the pressure of a fist finding your hair through the sack around your head. Your entire being becomes dedicated to the surge of adrenaline that burns in your blood until another fist cracks against your cheekbone with a wicked punch, shutting you up and making you bite your tongue.

 You whimper pathetically, blood dripping from somewhere in your mouth and sloughing onto your chin, as your head is tilted back and to the side. Fear paralyzes you as someone heavy straddles your thighs, keeping you pinned in place; you can hear their breathing, the sound all too familiar and gut-wrenchingly disgusting.

 “My little escape artist…” his voice burns deep in your skull.

 “No…” you manage to whimper. “You son of a fucking…”

 You wince at the sensation of a long needle penetrating the vessels of your neck. You try to jerk yourself away to no avail, the richness of his chuckle masked by what sounds like a rabid beast’s breathing behind you.

 “I figured you’d be more of a cat person,” he continues, something cold stinging your vein as he plunges a syringe. It’s a feeling you’re come to know just from the bite of medicine, one that sickens you to the bone and nauseates you. “Dogs are so… needy.”

 The thing behind you, gripping your arms and hair too tightly for any semblance of mercy, barks a laugh.

 It’s the last thing you hear before the light shining through the meshed threads of the bag darkens into nothing.

--

 You awake to sniveling.

 Aside from the strange dribble of water that drips rhythmically onto the concrete floor, the pitiful noises of sniffling are all that you hear. You’re unable to verbalize yourself, still dazed from drugs and confusion.

 You manage to open your eyes just enough to spot the figure of what must be a young man, somehow suspended above you from the ceiling. Your vision unfogs slowly, catching brief details of the boy’s black hair adorned with what looks to be a strange, orange headband.

 Then, you notice that he’s staring right at you.

 He trembles, breathing heavily through his nose since his mouth is gagged and secured with duct tape. He’s heavily battered, his chest flailing with each breath, terrified and whimpering.

 “Long time no see, my pet.”

 Your eyes widen with the greeting, wondering if this was just another nightmare that Rynke would wake you up from any moment now. Your hope is squandered quickly with a sharp pain searing deep in your thigh, your neck rolling as you try to identify the source.

 You try to move something, anything, but you can only manage a languid roll of your hips. You turn your head to assess the macabre restraints securing your wrists and ankles to a grossly cold stainless steel operating table, digging into your skin.

 A feral, goblin-like chortle echoes from behind you; you’re not sure if the source is far away, or if your ears are still cotton-filled from sedation. Either way, the noise disgusts you, but it’s nothing compared to the slimy hand that snakes its way onto your abdomen.

 His fingers are slicked with blood, its origin horrifically unknown. You follow the trail that shiny, black-gloved fingers make along your stomach, your peripheral vision slowly returning with each hurried blink.

 “Much has changed,” he drawls, speaking just loudly enough to overcome the whines from above. “But I’ve always known you’d come back to me.”

 Your mouth is too dry to succeed in a swallow, your saliva soaked by the bite block stuffed between your teeth. You try to push it out with your tongue, only to find that it doesn’t budge, securely tied behind your head. Panic wracks your body, his voice spurring deep-seeded fear to root among your viscera.

 “Relax,” he insists, his entirety finally coming into view as if he were teasing you. His hair is longer, more erratic and messily styled into dreads. He maintains his signature psychopathy painted clearly on his features, taking in the fear that he obviously induces in you simply with his presence. He’s traded his navy blue scrubs for an eccentric outfit, his chest and abdomen exposed as he leans over you, framed with a cross-like visage and pointed with a wide lapel. Your eyes linger on what you figure must be the waist-strap of a thong that frames the crest of his hip, your brows furrowing at the ridiculousness of it.

 “You’ll have your turn,” he continues, snapping you out of disoriented thought.

 Your attention is returned to the wriggling mass above you, able to truly see the pain and terror in his eyes as Cioccolata looks up at him curiously. He cries, his tears dropping down onto you with sparse plops. The figure that’s haunted you every night for three years moves slowly as he crawls onto the table, returning his ardent gaze onto you. You eye the white shorts he wears, making way for the black, latex stockings that stretch up to his thighs.

 He straddles your hips, looking down at you with pinpoint pupils despite the dim lighting of the room. The weight of his body sickens you, the way he looks at you like a piece of meat nauseating. The green of his eyes returns you to a place you never thought you’d have to endure again, the nubs of your amputated fingers starting to ache; you’re not sure if it’s from the lack of circulation, or traumatic stress manifesting somatically.

 He trails your bare chest, marred with a second-degree burn from your coffee, with steady fingers as if he’s admiring an antique, the latex of his gloves catching on your sweat and squeaking horribly. He sighs, the wind of his breath trembling with excitement, before raising a fist and pounding it into your gut quicker than you can recoil from. You cough, the wind knocked from your lungs painfully, tears already flowing down your face from fear of what you know is waiting for you.

 Cioccolata leans in close to your face, the scent of expensive lipstick on his breath. He runs his tongue along the river of your tears, your cheek sliming with his spit. He pauses and appreciates the bouquet of your suffering like a fine wine, chuckling darkly to himself before rearing up and looking down at you victoriously.

 He climbs off of you, taking his time, and approaches the head of the table. The ogreish huffing noise continues, somehow less disturbing than Cioccolata’s hands on your shoulders. Suddenly, with a skull-wracking clap, your face is encased in two hands other than your captor’s. They feel gooey like mud, keeping your head in place and forcing you to look up at the blubbering mess of a boy above you.

 “After your… departure,” Cioccolata begins, crocodile-heartbreak saturating his tone, “I had no choice but to find another pet. I’ve also become acquainted with some interesting… new talents.”

 Your brows furrow as you watch the young man writhe against his restraints, his eyes following what must be Cioccolata’s path. A feral laugh, dotted with the sound of nasally spit, echoes behind you.

 Then, you see it.

 It hovers over your face with its own, back hunched with setting-sun eyes. You’re paralyized under its gaze, only its eyes exposed as the rest hides behind what looks to be a mask. The covering of its face sloughs with mud and dirt, and as it moves to reveal its mouth like some sort of living creature, dribbles of mess scatter onto your face.

 The dirt is much less disgusting than the gluey slobber that drips onto your forehead and cheeks, seeping from its horrible smile. You shiver, writhing against your restraints to no avail as it drips like exudate along the side of your face.

 “Relax, Secco,” Cioccolata drawls. “Soon.”

 You realize this thing must be named Secco. Not that it mattered.

 The boy above you starts to panic entirely, his eyes locked on something out of your view.

 “You’ve yet to witness the full scale of my power,” Cioccolata says softly, almost inaudible over the boy’s muffled screams. “Though, you cannot possibly comprehend it.”

 With the noise of a clattering chain, the boy suddenly plunges towards you. You flinch, expecting him to collide with you, but he’s merely suspended a few feet above you, violet eyes locked on yours before they start to roll into the back of his head.

 You’re utterly confused, left with no frame of reference that could possibly explain what you see next.

 The boy’s skin makes way for a gurgling, broiling sick that froths from deep inside his body, as if it were under pressure and suddenly released. Bubbles form under his skin, only to burst horrifically and empty fuzzy, green exudate onto your bare skin. He cries out until his throat is filled with what smells and looks like mold, seeping from the duct tape and flowing from his nose. With a final, excruciating buildup of pressure, his skull fractures and spills an amalgamation of brain matter and mold onto your face. His eyeballs dangle from what used to be his sockets, finally silenced and limp as the mold takes what’s left of his body.

 You’re rendered absolutely noiseless, shivering with fear and disgust, his eye dangling disturbingly close to yours.

 “Isn’t it beautiful?” Cioccolata laughs behind you. “I doubt you’d like to suffer the same fate as Mr. Ghirga, though.”

 You don’t recognize the name, but considering his sinew drips onto your body stinking of rot, it feels like you know him rather intimately. Cioccolata’s threat looms heavily over you, knowing that the stakes were even higher than before.

 The boy’s corpse is raised back towards the ceiling, its remnants still dripping as the mold consumes his bones.

 Cioccolata makes himself known to you once again with a flat palm against your cheek as he circles back towards your feet. He trails down your body and settles on the crook of your thigh, not dancing around his intentions. Secco releases your head as it follows him, almost out of view as it appears to crawl on all fours. You spot what looks to be a bolt sticking out of the back of its cranium, the suit meshing around its insertion.

 “You’re one troublesome puppy,” Cioccolata remarks as he adjusts something under the table, his other hand gripping your ankle with a squeak of his glove.

 You cry out pitifully as you’re moved into lithotomy position, the steel of the table rising to bite into stirrups behind the back of your knees painfully. He glares down at you as a wide smile grows across his face, his hand trailing onto your pussy without hesitation. Secco works to secure the restraints tighter, leather buckled straps insidiously tough.

 Secco huffs, obviously intrigued, his tongue lapping from between his lips to drape over his chin. You squirm and fight the position of your legs, grating the head of your femur within its joint painfully.

 “Stop squirming, pig,” Cioccolata spits before slapping the inside of your thigh. It burns as if every ounce of his vitriol embedded in your skin. He digs his fingers into it, pinning you into stillness.

 “Secco,” he starts, catching the animal’s attention. “Get the camera.”

 The camera?

 His assistant chortles as it does as it’s told with the sprawling of its limbs. Cioccolata’s unoccupied hand searches along a stainless steel tray by his side, prepped with a blue sterile dressing long before you woke up.

 “Unfortunately, three years of disobedience doesn’t afford you much in terms of choice,” Cioccolata growls, selecting a lead-fillet mallet from the side table. “But, here’s one. Right or left?”

 You look down at him with wide eyes, screaming noiselessly in confusion. He taps the head of the mallet against each of your toes as he waits for you to somehow answer with a gag stuffed in your mouth.

 “Hm, she’s indecisive. What do you think, Secco?”

 Secco holds the camera steadily at your feet, crouched atop the table for the perfect angle. Your eyes lock on to the rhythmic blinking of red light, frightening you deep to your core as you remember a similar one from your confinement.

 “Left! Left!” it barks, its chest heaving with excitement.

 “Hm,” Cioccolata ponders, twirling the mallet between his fingers. “Right it is, then.”

 You had no idea what he was talking about until you become horribly, lucidly aware.

 He puts all of his weight behind a swing of the mallet, throwing it onto your femur with a sickening pound. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you clench them shut, screaming from the pit of your throat at the incredible, mindblowing pain you hardly stay conscious to experience. You can feel the shards of your bone slosh around the movement of your muscles as it stays put in the restraint, though the portion most proximal to your hip sways with your movement. With two, three more swings, your femur is nearly obliterated into mush under your skin.

 “Stay still,” Cioccolata commands, dropping the mallet onto the table haphazardly as he snaps his hand onto your hip. “You’ll tear the blood vessels.”

 You can hardly hear him over the ringing in your ears, watching a gruesome hematoma form around the assured crumbles of your bone.

 “Well, more than you already have,” Cioccolata mentions casually, instigating the wound with his thumb. “That should keep you in your place, no?”

 You feel consciousness slipping away from you, only to be brought back with a swift capture of your throat into Secco’s hand. It squeezes hard as it sticks the camera in your face, its visible eye closed to view you through the lens.

 “My apologies for my assistant,” Cioccolata hums, rising unseen, “he has his fixations.”

 Secco pokes its thumb against your larynx before withdrawing, snarling a chuckle as it watches you cough from the crushing pressure. It claws at your breast instead, drooling onto your chest, its fingers feeling like sandpaper along the scalded skin.

 Secco becomes the least of your worries as Cioccolata pries his thumb inside your pussy, assessing the boundaries of it with a pull and glide along your pubis symphysis. He hums in approval, though the noise of it is drowned out by Secco’s beastly huff of breath as he eyes your chest.

 “Not yet,” Cioccolata gripes as he snaps his fingers, diverting his pet’s attention from you to await his command. “Here first.”

 You sigh with relief as he releases your breast, only to crawl towards his master. It’s as if it knows exactly what Cioccolata expects from it, setting the camera down to frame your vulva with its hands. It spreads you apart too quickly for comfort, its face hovering over your stomach to assess what it has to work with.

 It plunges both index fingers into you, grating against the tight, moistureless confines of your walls. The discomfort hardly compares to the aching of your broken leg, though the shame you feel wracks your mind in waves. Secco sloughs saliva from its bottom lip onto its fingers, making them slippery enough to jam its middle fingers inside as well. It snorts as its knuckles bottom out inside you, under Cioccolata’s scrutinizing approval.

 “Open.”

 Secco licks its lips as it abducts its hands, disregarding your boundaries completely and gaping your entrance open for Cioccolata’s analytical stare. You roll your hips as much as you can manage, Secco’s fingers scissoring you to stretch your muscle viciously.

 Cioccolata wordlessly commands his underling, nodding approvingly as Secco sends a glob of saliva from the tip of its tongue inside you. It concludes with a harsh spit, spattering drops in its wake that make you shiver.

 Cioccolata takes it upon himself to fill the void with three fingers, slicking your walls with Secco’s spit before jamming their fingers together inside you. You bite the guard between your teeth at the coldness of latex and the sudden invasion, closing your eye after a clump of mold falls onto it.

 “Good,” Cioccolata praises as he pats his accomplice’s head. It takes it as an invitation to withdraw, rearing up onto its knees to watch Cioccolata drive his fingers into the newfound tightness. Soon, that apparently bores it, finding your breasts again with a slurp of its tongue. Its suit shrinks under its chin, looking up at you to expose its teeth in a malicious grin.

 They’re metal.

 Your brows furrow at the sheen of them, textured and with exaggerated, elongated anatomy. Its inhuman tongue captures your attention away from the short bursts of Cioccolata’s fingers digging deep. It wriggles along the roundness of your breast before settling on your nipple.

 Cioccolata picks up the camera with his spare hand, chuckling darkly at whatever information he must know that you don’t. He points it directly at your face as Secco drives its canines into your breast, followed by its incisors, pinning you down onto the table with its weight. You scream, earning a grin from both of them.

 Secco laps at the blood at seeps from the bite, slapping your other breast with the flat of its fingers. Cioccolata curls his fingers inside you, pulling out just enough to force his pinkie in as well. Four fingers work to stretch and explore you, watching your expression of despair and pain through the camera’s lens.

 “Do you see how good he is?” Cioccolata murmurs, fighting the resistance that you give him. “He listens to everything I say.”

 Secco practically wags its tail at the praise, releasing its teeth from your tissue with a snap. Blood leaks from the punctures, dripping down your chest in stripes. With another wordless command, Secco swipes its fingers along the wounds, squeezing your breast to squelch more blood from it. It slaps its bloodied fingers adjacent to Cioccolata’s, lubing them up further. He nods, dismissing his servant and continuing to slam his fingers into you.

 “Hopefully I don’t have to take out half of your brain like him, though…”

 Secco takes the camera and shuffles towards your head, eyeing you hungrily. It kneels down to your level, taking your hair into its fist and forcing your chin down towards your chest. The leather strap keeping your bite block in place loosens, and soon it tugs and wriggles it from between your teeth. You fill your lungs with fetid air, tasting mold and blood as you take a deep breath.

 You’re not given much of an opportunity for a breath, your lips enclosed by Secco’s with a flash. Cioccolata lets out a hearty laugh, his lips curling over his teeth at the sight of Secco forcing its tongue down your throat. You try to cough it out, fighting the kneading of your lips, revolted by the movement of it as it explores your esophagus. Its metal teeth click against yours as it shoves itself as deep as it can go.

 “He’s taken a liking to you, it seems,” Cioccolata murmurs, lining up his thumb with your entrance. “Keep her quiet, Secco.”

 You gag on its tongue as Cioccolata drives all five of his fingers inside, stretching your limits beyond anything he’s put you through before. He grins sadistically as you’re forced to swallow Secco’s spit, his fingers curling into a fist as he forces the knob of his wrist inside. He pulls out entirely just long enough to assess his work, slapping you across your clit before drilling his fist back inside you. You writhe and cry, tears streaming down your face as the rhythm of his fisting jostles your body with each thrust.

 Secco’s tongue wriggles from your throat animatedly as it pulls back, spitting on your face with stunning accuracy. Its fingers find your mouth, prying your jaw open as you’re finally free to gasp breaths and groan with the pumping of Cioccolata’s fist deep inside you.

 “You’re actually quite like me, now that I get a good look at you…” Cioccolata murmurs as you try to form words, pushing Secco’s spit from the back of your throat. You can’t see what Cioccolata does next, but deep down, you know; the familiar sound of buttons coming undone stuns you into silence, stilled from many lessons that Cioccolata had taught you so long ago.

 “How does that make you feel?” Cioccolata asks as he lines up the tip of his cock with the stretched muscle of your entrance. Your eyes widen at the thought of his cock fitting in there with the girth of his hand and wrist, though he seems to spare you unexpectedly.

 Instead, he slides it down to your ass. He was merely slicking it in an apparent act of negligible mercy.

 Secco must’ve picked up on another wordless que, slapping your face roughly to snap you out of the traumatic haze you found yourself in.

 “I asked you a question,” Cioccolata spits, stilling his fist to focus on coercing the head of his cock inside the first ring of muscle of your ass. You squeal and grit your teeth into the fingers stuffed between them, your eyes finding Secco’s in an asinine plea.

 His words echo in your head as he drives himself in, earning an agonal cry from deep within your battered lungs. Cioccolata smiles, the true sound of pain and anguish only making him harder, driving his hips forward. You cry with the burning sting of his cock forcing its way past the unlubricated catch of your virgin hole. Through the many months of torture at his hands, he’d never hurt you this way; before, his punishments carried a lesson or experiment behind them. Now, though, he seemed to be doing anything to instigate guttural, agonizing cries from deep within your soul. He writhes his hips in the most gruesome way before pounding into you over and over again, rubbing his cock against the side of his fist through the stretched tissue between your holes.

     I asked you a question.  

 Just as he drives himself fully into you, he pulls back, plunging his hips deep and rotating his fist for better access. Your squeaky cries barely make it past your lips, holding your breath with what little conviction you have left to try and push him out of you. He finds this quite amusing, groping your thigh with his free hand. The crackles of your bone repulse you almost as much as it pains you, reminding you once more that every ounce of disassociation you’ve allowed yourself to sink into can be just as quickly rescinded.

     I asked you a question.  

 Much to Cioccolata’s curiosity, your cries hollow out into barely-there gasps, hardly enough to fill your lungs. You feel yourself losing the very essence of your consciousness, pain making way for delicious numbness. It’s enough to settle you, relax you fully into taking Cioccolata’s penetration, loosening you despite gallons of adrenaline urging you to do anything but that.

 “Hm…” Cioccolata muses, pounding his hips into you once, twice, three times in an attempt to get a rise from you. Instead, your eyes roll into the back of your head and your tongue lolls around Secco’s fingers, your wrists falling limp and your vision dimming around the periphery.

 Finally…

 There’s nothing.

 --

 The feeling of a needle messily leaving your skin is what spurs you from your haze.

 Then, it’s as if every muscle in your body is electrified, seizing uncontrollably and rousing you from shock like whiplash. Like naloxone to morphine, every sensation your body has tried to block out rushes back to you at once.

 “Ah, too much…” Cioccolata scowls as he tosses the syringe to the ground, not bothering to apply pressure to your vein to stop the bleeding from the puncture site. “No matter.”

 Secco practically hops with excitement, pointing the camera too close to your face. You’re jumping out of your skin, pain and overstimulation shooting through every nerve in your body and making you dizzy.

 “I didn’t want you to miss this,” Cioccolata seethes as you realize that he’s pounding into you; it’s like you’ve picked up where you left off from in a nightmare, the past feeling hazy and surreal compared to the horrific awareness you’re enduring right now. “It would be a shame, truly.”

 You feel every touch and thrust more potently than the last, drool seeping from your agape mouth like a rabid dog. You can hardly keep your focus on the meeting of your bodies, your irises forced into nystagmus from the overwhelming effects of the drug.

 “W-why…” you manage to utter, your blood spurred with newfound energy.

 “Why?” Cioccolata laughs, spreading his fingers inside you. You give way easily despite the trembling of your muscles, your head slamming back onto the metal table with the surge of acute stimulation that pops like bubbles through your gut.

 He keeps his fist clenched as he rends it from your pussy, exposing the black latex of his glove, covered in milky, bloody fluid. He’s strangely wordless, as if he’s knocked speechless at the sight of your opening welcoming him with pink tissue rubbed raw.

 “You really are stupider than I thought,” he retorts, grasping the base of his cock with his sullied hand as he pulls out from your ass. Secco howls deliriously, pointing the camera between your legs as it straddles your abdomen with the entirety of its weight. You shudder with the sensation of emptiness, only for two of Secco’s fingers to plunge into your pussy and stretch you open wide. “Maybe half of your brain is already gone.”

 Your eyes burn from dryness, wide and unable to blink. Cioccolata’s lips curl into a perverse smile, only needing to insert the head of his cock into your pussy before cumming in spurts. Secco keeps you still as heat and lightning surge through you, the feeling of his cum curling your toes and digging your fingernails into your palms.

 Cioccolata grunts with relief, finishing himself with a few languid strokes of his cock. “Did you get that, Secco?”

 It nods voraciously, the red light on the camera blinking incessantly as if in confirmation. Your breath is too hot; in fact, your entire body burns hot as if it’s on fire. Through it all though, you’ve come a startling, loathsome realization.

     You need more.  

 Secco crawls over you like an insect, falling to the ground at Cioccolata’s feet to shove its face between your legs. You can only watch as its tongue unfurls from between its lips to lap at your weakened entrance, spooning cum onto the hollow of it. Cioccolata rubs the top of its head, cum and slobber dripping down Secco’s chin as its eyes glaze over with appreciation.

 You lick your lips, parched and sore, as it crawls back over you and meets you face to face. It dips its lips down onto yours, swirling Cioccolata’s cum around your tongue and down your throat. The taste of it rolls your eyes into the back of your head, your hips bucking into Cioccolata’s firm grip of your thigh to the rhythm of his laugh. You hate every cell of your body for finding a modicum of pleasure in this.

 Secco pulls back with a lap of your teeth, running the tip along the upper row. You spot from behind its head an unusual sight: Cioccolata rolling down the sheath of his glove to expose his forearm, bringing a needled syringe to the crook of his elbow. His eyes gleam in a way you’ve never seen them do so before, scanning your body maliciously.

 “Secco, down.”

 His servant obeys, hopping to the ground and bracing his weight onto his knuckles. He withdraws the needle with a hiss, his eyes rolling and his balance wobbling before he quickly collects himself. You swallow the gluey cum that sloshes around your mouth, your lids heavy and your body responding viscerally from the pleasure of it.

 Cioccolata bends down close to you, unscrewing the needle from the tip of the syringe. He holds it close to your face, rolling it between his fingers as your eyes cross to look at it.

 “You’ve been given a mixture of gamma hydroxybutyrate, amphetamine, and  dextroamphetamine,” he slurs, his breathing quickening after each word as if he were exhausted. “Well,      we     have.”

 Your brows furrow, not knowing what that sting of words meant.

 You’d learn soon enough.

 Cioccolata leans his weight onto your chest, taking one of your breasts into his sticky hand. He never breaks eye contact with you, bringing the tip of the needle to your achingly hard nipple before spinning it provokingly.

 “You’re hardly worth the effort of surgery,” he jeers, pressing the bevel into the hardened tissue slowly, agonizingly. You squeal a pained groan, your jaw falling slack, trying to roll your hips despite the sickening mashing of your femur under your skin. “Drugs will have to do for now.”

 You drool, unable to swallow through your screams, as the needle penetrates clean through the other side. You can see Cioccolata’s heartbeat through the rhythmic trembling of his fingers, rapid and fluttering. He laughs heartily, the noise foreign, though it brings a groggy smile to your face for reasons unknown.

 You can’t hide the flushing of your face or the throbbing of your abdominal muscles, completely forgetting about the corpse dangling above you. You’re absorbed in the static that spreads from your nipple to your gut, finally forcing yourself to blink.

 Cioccolata rests his head on the softness of your belly, the green of his eyes surrounded by white. He’s almost domestic, flicking the needle with amusement and grinning widely. Secco gets a wide angle shot as Cioccolata trails his tongue into the crux of your rib cage, licking the sweat that buds from the mixture of the drugs and the pleasure that starts to drive you crazy. Your pussy aches with strange urgency, pulsing with the feeling of cum dribbling from it.

 “Secco,” Cioccolata exhorts, “get the box. A sugar cube is in it for you.”

 At the mention of a sugar cube, Secco bares its metallic teeth in an animalistic grin. It starts to bang its head back and forth like there’s no other way that it could release his excitement, halting abruptly after it bonks its forehead against the table. Cioccolata rolls his eyes and waits patiently for his gimp to do as he’s told.

 Secco drags a heavy box from somewhere unseen, grunting with heaving breaths. It practically fumbles over itself to unlatch the lid and throw it open. You tremble incessantly, your fingers twitching erratically, as Cioccolata reaches into the inside of his top to retrieve a perfectly formed sugarcube. Secco whines and whimpers as it pounds its knuckles into the concrete floor, losing its mind over the sugarcube’s appearance. It holds its tongue out, allowing you to notice the physiology behind its length: it’s merely many tongues stitched together, scars of long-passed surgeries suturing them together.

 Cioccolata flicks open a pill bottle, sending the lid toppling onto the floor. He tosses two or three onto his palm, his hands too shaky to be exact, before lobbing the cocktail into the air towards his assistant. Secco’s tongue darts around the projectiles with surprising precision, swallowing them down after gnashing them between his teeth. It reminds you of obscuring a pill in a hunk of meat to get a dog to eat it.

 “Hope you don’t think I’m playing favorites,” Cioccolata says a tad too quickly for sobriety. “He’s just on blood thinners, is all…”

 Secco laps up the last of the powders before digging through the box. Your teeth clatter from the electricity flowing through your jaw, pupils blown wide as you fixate on the toy that it retrieves triumphantly.

 Cioccolata claps his hands together, the noise ringing in your ears and making you jump. Every sensation and experience is amplified by the thousands, your muscles recoiling with each touch of Cioccolata’s fingers.

 “Excellent choice, good, good, good…” Cioccolata murmurs to himself, swiping the Hitachi wand from his pet’s hand with a clatter of the wire. You struggle to stop yourself from hyperventilating, feeling dizzy from the rapid breaths your diaphragm forces you to take.

 He holds it in front of your face, spinning it to make sure you’ve gotten a good look. His eyes are nearly black from wide pupils, the head of his cock blushed red as blood surges through it. Secco practically vibrates, rushing to plug it in as slobber flows past its teeth and across its lip.

 Cioccolata tosses the wand its way. It scrambles to catch it, its hand previously occupied with groping the surprisingly large bulge between its legs, tenting the strange suit that encapsulates its body.

 “Three sugar cubes,” Cioccolata proposes, dangling the promise in front of Secco’s face, “if you make her forget all about this escaping business.”

 Secco leaps into action, flicking the vibrator on with a drag of its thumb. It settles between your legs, eyes locked on your pussy as it presses the bulbous head of the vibrator against your thigh.

 It’s almost enough to make you cum right then. If it held it there for just a moment longer, you’re sure you would have had the most powerful orgasm of your life.

 Instead, it hovers it over your clit, dotting the bud with the unpredictable, shaky movements of its hand. Cioccolata laughs to himself at the way your hips bob and jerk from the stimulation, making a mental note to himself to throw Secco an extra sugar cube. He cradles your head with his forearms, his hands gripping the sore meat of your breasts as he looks down at you. His finger flicks the needle still embedded in your nipple, smiling grotesquely at your pathetic reaction.

 He keeps your shoulders pinned to the table as Secco presses the head of the wand directly onto your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. It’s almost enough to blur the debilitating pain, but in a sick betrayal of your body, the pain began to mix with pleasure like ink in water.

     Good, good, good…  

 Cioccolata’s voice repeats like waves in your head, your unfeigned moans turning to screams as you fight the resistance of his hold on you. He runs his tongue along your upper lip, hunched over you like a beast, taking in the sweetness of your cries.

 Something comes over you, a primal need that every ounce of your logic screams against indulging in.

 You do anyway.

 Cioccolata’s eyes widen as you lurch your lips onto his, taking them into your best attempt at a kiss. He scapes his teeth against yours, taking back what’s his with a suck of your bottom lip. You bang your wrists against the restraints, the clatter of metal only adding to the cacophony of frantic moans and cries.

 Cioccolata sinks his teeth into your lip with a shuddering moan, swallowing your heightened cries and the taste of your blood with thorough enjoyment. He abrases your lower lip as he pulls back from the kiss, distinctive marks rubbing your skin raw. His hand claps onto your forehead, tangling your hair between his fingers, as he rubs your head excitedly. His laugh echoes through you, amplifying the intense building of pressure deep within your pelvis.

 Saliva and blood seep from your lips, agape in glorious, breathless dismay, your eyes locked on his. He tosses your head around like a ragdoll as you cum hard and fast, tears flowing down your cheeks. Your muscles contract as strongly as they can, only for orgasmic relief to follow; normally, you’d be given a break before the next one, but neither Cioccolata nor Secco plan to give you the kindness.

 Instead, Secco twists its wrist with force, angling the head of the wand at your entrance. You squirm from the movement of the stimulation, gritting your teeth as it jams the bulk of the toy inside you, plunging it in aggravation when you offer resistance.

 “Yes…” Cioccolata looks on approvingly, slamming the back of your head into the table with a forceful pound. You start to groan with the penetration, only for your whine to be cut off into a yipping cry as Cioccolata sinks his fist clean against your cheekbone. You gasp for breath, your efforts fruitless as his knuckles crack the bones of your sinuses into splintering shards. You try to turn your head, only for a barrage of fists to follow, his grunts of effort matching the ringing in your ears. He pauses, breathing heavily, watching you sputter blood from your nostrils.

 “Secco, stop.”

 As if the entire world stopped turning, the last beacon of pleasure that was the vibrations deep inside you cease. Secco looks up at its master with wide, confused eyes; even it wasn’t privy to whatever diabolical thoughts mused through Cioccolata’s head. Secco lets out a goading whimper, shaking the handle until Cioccolata snaps at it to stop.

 Cioccolata leans in close, clearing blood from your ear so you can hear his whispers. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

 You shake your head wearily, your skull feeling heavy.

 He bashes his fist against your temple, making your ears ring. “It’s just like you, daring to lie right to my face.”

 You shudder a breath, your hearing starting to fade from your right side, as he pushes your head to wobble around your neck. He strides to your feet, shouldering Secco out of the way to grip the handle in its place.

 He switches it back on.

 You spray blood from your nose and mouth as you puff a breath, the toes of your left foot curling now that you lost the ability to move your right.

 “You fucking love this,” Cioccolata laughs, the smile in his voice loud enough to hear over the buzzing of the wand.

 You’re forced to face that fact yourself, the beginnings of orgasm rippling through your gut mercilessly. He angles it just perfectly, more precise and purposeful than Secco, prodding your most sensitive spots as if in spite.

 “Tell me, you worthless pig,” he spits, pressing the heel of his hand onto your mons pubis to keep you in place.

 When all you have to offer is a half-hearted gurgle, he switches the vibrator off again and takes in the involuntary whine of petulance that spurts from your swollen lips. He thuds the heel of his hand against your mons, the impact settling deep in your gut.

 “You want more?” Cioccolata sneers as he holds the wand painfully still. You feel the crushing weight of your diaphragm as you cough, though you’re not sure if it’s in protest or confirmation.

 Cioccolata scoffs, giving you just enough stimulation with the vibrator’s head to start toppling you over the cliff of hopeless acceptance. When he switches the vibrator on again, your resolve shatters, unable to stop yourself from shuddering a groan as orgasm finds itself a mere pinprick away.

 Cioccolata takes even the last morsel of anticipation that you have, switching the vibrator off just as you’re at the tipping point of orgasm. He scowls at your fervent whine and rolling of your hips, pounding the side of his fist into your gut.

 “You want more, then tell me!” Cioccolata yells, dotting his words with another irritated punch. The volume and vitriol behind his voice catches both you and Secco off guard.

 You manage to part your swollen lips enough to allow air to pass through.

 “Please…”

 Cioccolata grins, knowing from the sound of fluid in your lungs that you were simply unable to say more. “Stupid pig…”

 He indulges you, turning the vibrator on again and putting all of his weight into prodding your gspot with the rounded head. You grit your teeth and cry, unsure if you feel relief or self-hatred more potently. Either way, your body convulses with the need for release, trying to ignore Secco’s snarling breathing.

 Through the gurgling of your breath within the muck of blood and spit, you cum again. The intensity of the vibrations against your abused g-spot was simply too much to handle, the sensation curling your toes as you spurt cum onto the handle of the wand and the pair’s faces. You can’t see Secco’s confused expression, your eye sockets swelled with fluid from the assured fractures. Cioccolata makes his approval known with an amicable pat on your belly, letting the wand protrude from you, anchored only by the squeeze of your muscles. He approaches the head of the table once more to look down at his handiwork.

 Contusions already pool around the impact points of his punches, spreading like a bullseye. Cioccolata’s heaving breaths linger on your skin, effectively blinded despite your best efforts to meet the gaze that surely bore onto your face.

 “Good pet…” he murmurs, almost too soft to hear.

 He grunts as he slaps the meat of his cock against your battered face, hissing at the sensation of broken, bloodied flesh and shards of bone crunching beneath the weight of it. He cums almost instantly, needing only three unscrupulous thrusts before he sends seed to embed in your wounds. You cough out blood that flows from your sinuses, the salt of his cum stinging deep under your skin. It seeps through the hair-breadth slit of your puffed eye socket, singeing your eye and making you grimace.

 “C-Cioccolata…now…?” the gremlin huffs. It’s the first time it’s formed a coherent request, and if the sounds you hear are anything worth trusting, it must be stroking his its cock fervently.

 “Not yet,” Cioccolata manages to respond through bated breaths, apparently becoming disinterested with your face and stumbling away from you into nowhere. You’re powerless to do anything but whine pathetically as the wand’s head is yanked from your pussy, catching on your pubis symphysis horribly before tumbling to the ground. Secco snorts more than it breathes, watching over you as something cold and hard prods against the hole left gaping from the wand.

 You snivel pathetically as a stainless steel speculum twists its way inside, much to the pair’s amusement. They chuckle as Cioccolata twists the speculum wide open, exposing you and blocking off any chance of pleasure you could feel from insertion. You whine, the cold making you shiver, your face painfully sore from the battering.

 “In here, only,” Cioccolata mutters, obviously to his protege. It howls excitedly, using the disjointed, pensile remnant of your thigh to pleasure itself. It thrusts his hips wildly, fucking the sinew and baggy flesh until it’s at its limit.

 It rears back and unleashes its load inside your pussy, so      generously     laid out as if just for its own personal use. Cioccolata apparently pats it on the back as it grunts and squabbles, cum sloughing to pool against your cervix.

 Secco jams its fingers inside, spreading its cum around like a fascinated child. Cioccolata pushes it aside with a huff, clapping his fingers greedily over the stretched viscera of your clit.

 “It’s such a shame you made me do this to you,” Cioccolata seethes, rustling through the utensils on the side table sloppily. “You had such a pretty face.”

 You listen to Secco scramble to the head of the table, its fingers toying with the needle through your nipple. With a gut-churning splice, it tugs the needle free from its place. You yelp through the fog of delirium and hyperawareness, spit frothing from between your gritted teeth as Cioccolata begins to circle your clit with his latexed thumb.

 “You’re sort of beautiful like this, though,” Cioccolata shrugs, rolling the unhooded bud between his fingers. You squeal and pant, bucking your hips into the stimulation, shameless and unrepentant. “If only you weren’t so… disgusting.”

 Cioccolata holds something cold and sharp to the inside of your thigh as he angles his cock back into your ass, forced into accepting it due to your desperate need for something, anything other than crippling pain. You used to think that his cock, engorged artificially from drugs and the incredible sight of seeing you in pain, stuffed in your ass was entirely too unpleasant to earn any modicum of pleasure.

 Now, though, as your leg, breasts, and face singe red-hot in pain, Cioccolata’s rabid fucking is a mere mercy.

 “Secco.”

 That catches its attention, just as it always did.

 “Teeth.”

 Secco hoots, hollering excitedly. You can’t fight the way it pries your jaw open, the tendons hardly attached to the broken bones of your mandible. Secco’s pinkie digs into the previously-healed sockets of your top canine teeth, removed from an act of defiance many years ago. You drool all over its fingers, feeling another orgasm tug on your exhaustion that the drugs won’t let you confront.

 The skin of the inside of your thigh parts ways with the slice of a scalpel, sending fresh blood gushing onto the table. You don’t have any fight left in you, instead losing yourself to tracing the path of the scalpel. Are you falling further into insanity, or is he carving... letters?

     F…  

 He pounds himself into you as Secco fumbles with something else, dropping what sounds like bullets to the floor with a frustrated groan. The thought of imminent death, a swift bullet to the brain, comforts you more than you expected it would.

 Cioccolata has much more planned for you, though.

 The rolling of his thumb is too much, sending you over the edge again with a clamp of your muscles. You nearly push the speculum out, but Cioccolata shoves it back in with the palm of his hand.

     U… C…  

 Secco holds your weakened jaw open and bends your head backward. You open one eye as much as you can manage to see its shaky fingers dangling a metallic fang in front of your face before sinking it into the sheath of your mouth.

     K…  

 You manage a throaty cry as it starts to screw the tooth into your gum, the socket milling into thready sinew. Cioccolata giggles to himself, amused at the way you gurgle bubbles of fresh blood out of your mouth.

     M…  

 The pain in your thighs is quickly overshadowed by the invasion of slow, tortuous metal drilling into the misplaced bones of your skull. All you can do is cry, thankful when Secco lets your head go, only to be dragged back into dread as it prepares the other socket.

     E… A…  

 The scalpel slips, digging deeper than Cioccolata intends. He scorns himself for being so sloppy, though he can hardly keep himself together, his balls aching with the promise of another release.

 Your tongue explores the newfound implants as best as it can, the taste of metal not nearly as off-putting as the iron in blood. They’re too big for your mouth, jutting across your lower row of teeth.

     T  

 Cioccolata grunts, pulling out of your ass to cum into the waiting hole of your pussy. It almost hurts to cum again, but the delightful sight before him spurs him on. His cum, combined with Secco’s and a tinge of blood, drips from the speculum’s border and onto the roundness of your ass.

 “Good, Secco,” Cioccolata says between panting breaths, dropping the scalpel onto the ground triumphantly.

 “N-now?” Secco begs, grinding his cock against your skull, sullying your hair further in addition to the blood, spit, and mold.

 “One more thing,” Cioccolata bargains, slapping your broken thigh before approaching the box. “I’m sure you don’t want this to end anytime soon, right?”

 You’re not sure which answer bubbles from your psyche first.

 Secco strokes its cock as it licks its fingers, clearing the suit of spumy muck. Cioccolata tosses something large and heavy its way, praising him when he catches it.

 “My pet,” Cioccolata whispers, holding something behind his back as he places a kiss to your forehead. “Those fresh new teeth of yours hold a little… secret.”

 Secco giggles exaltedly as it manages to ignite the flame of a butane torch clumsily, a bit too close to your hair. The fire melts a small portion of it into bundled twine, burning your face just from the proximity. You hardly care, your eyes locked on the cross-shaped iron that Cioccolata bares freely from behind his back. Secco hops in place excitedly, pointing the flame to the design of the iron as well as it can manage. You watch as the iron grows fluorescent yellow-orange, releasing bouts of smoke with the impressive heat.

 “At my command, at any time, and for any reason,” Cioccolata says smugly, admiring the opulent design of the iron, “I can release this same drug you’re surely hating now. In an instant, you will be right back here, and I’ll have to increase the severity of your punishments. No matter where you go, I will always have control.”

 Cioccolata hovers the red-hot iron inches above your breast, the heat of it making you writhe. You shake your head weakly, begging without the words stuck painfully in your throat.

 “You will      never     forget that you’re mine again,” Cioccolata growls, tightening his grip on the handle of the iron.

 You force air in and out of your battered lungs, preparing yourself.

 There’s nothing that could have possibly prepared you for this.

 Cioccolata plunges the hot iron above your nipple, smoke bursting forth from burning skin and sinew. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Cioccolata says something you don’t hear, the sound of blood rushing past your ears all you can focus on aside from the excruciating pain and the stench of burning flesh and hair.

 Cioccolata rolls the cross across your skin to ensure even coverage before pulling back and tossing it to the ground. Threads of burned skin drape over your side, eschar and granulated tissue marking the cross like a signature. You’re barely conscious enough to feel Secco release another load of cum into your pussy, hot and sticky.

 It’s nearly silent, the only noises being your stridor and Secco’s feral wheezing. After a moment of horrible nothingness, wondering what could possibly await you in the tension of quiet, you’re startled back into the present.

 The clattering of the leather straps on your ankles resonates within the walls of your confinement. You think you might be going crazy, truly, until your left leg is released and sent tumbling onto the edge of the table. You’re dead weight, dizzy from blood loss and trauma, unable to give resistance even if you wanted to as your wrists are freed without a word.

 As your right leg is freed, you scowl and wince from the pendulous swinging of it from the edge of the table. You pry your eyes open to see Cioccolata hovering over you from behind, heaving your weight onto his support with a scoop of his arms under your shoulders.

 You wheeze, your chest crushing under your weight as you’re rolled off the table and onto the floor. The speculum topples onto the concrete next to you. You snivel and lay there in the heap that Cioccolata left you in, staring at Secco’s shins.

 He kicks you in the back with the heel of his boot, catching your attention and turning you on your axis.

 “You want more?” Cioccolata hums, digging the sole into the protuberance of your shoulder blades. It’s like he knows the answer already, his tone confident and assured.

 He leaves you there as he moves to lean against the wall, crossing his arms and looking down at the pitiful lump before him. Secco joins him, shuffling on his knuckles to lean against Cioccolata’s leg.

 Your muscles ache, but that’s no matter. Something spurs you from all semblance of logic, urging you into action. You haul the entirety of your weight up by your palms, your head hanging loosely on your neck.

 Slowly but surely, you start to forget anything else but the feeling of their cum seeping from your abused hole and the sound of molded corpse plopping onto the floor. Cioccolata chuckles lowly as you shuffle towards him, dragging your bunk leg behind you as you claw the concrete with dedicated crawls.

 You finally settle at his feet, collapsing from the massive amount of energy you poured into hauling yourself just a few feet. Cioccolata grabs the knots of your hair and forces your face towards the ceiling. You’re met with the sight of their hardened cocks bearing down at you.

 “Good, pet,” Cioccolata mewls, taking your wrist into his grasp. It stings from the abrasions there, rubbed raw from the restraints. He fixates your limp fist around the shaft of his cock, sticky from blood and sex. Secco harrumphs persistently until Cioccolata mirrors the action onto its cock, rolling his eyes like a father to a petulant child. It starts pumping immediately, the movement sparking new pain through your thigh as you rely on your stable leg to hold your weight.

 Cioccolata takes a different approach, coaxing your hand into stroking his length languidly. He smiles widely as you catch on, moving your fist on your own, your knee aching with the pressure of your weight.

 “That’s right,” Cioccolata hisses, already close thanks to the endurance and hair-trigger nature that the drug affords him. “Keep going like I know you want to.”

 You drool from puffed lips, fighting the swelling of your eyes, whimpering doggedly. The noises and your newfound devotion finishes him off thoroughly, ropes of cum spilling into your face and dripping onto your chest. Cioccolata keeps you steady with the grip on your hair, just long enough for Secco to fuck your hand to the hilt, murky cum spattering onto your hair and the contusions of your face.

 They rub their cocks on your face, thoroughly ensuring that nearly every inch of your face was covered in a milky combination of cum, blood, and spit. The sight is enough to sate Cioccolata.

 For now.

  --

 The warmth of the bubble bath is exquisite, though it compares not to the tingling on your scalp from his kneading fingers. The shampoo smells sweet, like violets and vanilla, as he works it though the tangled mess of your hair.

 Secco works at your leg, keeping it suspended above the water to keep the cast dry. You smile lazily, though you’re urged back into stoicism from the pulling of the bandages across your face.

 Cioccolata kneels in close, rinsing your hair with warm water that cascades down your chest.

 “We can do this every morning,      tesorina    ,” he crones, stroking your upper arms authoritatively. “Well, so long as you behave.”

 “Yes, Master,” you mumble through the bandages.

 He helps you out of the bath, calling on Secco to dry you with the plushness of a towel. You think to yourself how strange he looks unadorned by his usual makeup and outfit, favoring a bathrobe and slicked-back hair.

 Just as Secco finishes drying you, the familiar pitter-patter of ebullient nails clacking against hardwood brings a smile to your face. You watch as Rynke praddles into the bedroom, sitting at your feet, not minding the water pooling there. You give him a brief pat, unable to bend too much at the hips for now.

 You’re desperate for affirmation, waiting for the opportune moment to collect the palette of makeup from its place on the vanity. He turns towards you, his gaze warmer than usual, and chuckles when he realizes what you must be planning.

 “You want to help?” he smiles, sitting at the vanity.

 You nod twice, the movement hurting the sore muscles of your neck. Cioccolata finds the request to be delightfully endearing, facing you and closing his eyes.

 You try your best, angling the brush across his forehead and cheeks carefully. The green paint-like makeup edges easily into sharp lines, framing his face perfectly. His black lipstick goes on smoothly, following the curvature of his lips as he pouts for you.

 He opens his eyes to assess your work, scanning his face in the mirror across from him. You await impatiently, bouncing on your good leg.

     Crack.  

 You stare ahead at nothing, looking down at the floor. The wounds of your face burn from his vicious bare-handed slap, bringing tears to your eyes. Rynke whimpers behind you.

 “Do it again,” Cioccolata scathes. “Wash it off and do it      again    . Better this time.”

 You sniff to clear your nose, scrambling to retrieve a washcloth. “Yes, Master. Sorry, Master.”

 Cioccolata glares at you upon your return. It would be easier to wash his face in the sink, but then you couldn’t learn your lesson. Instead, he stares daggers at you until you’ve cleared his face of your mistakes, your hands trembling in fear. Really, truly, through it all, you’re more disgusted with yourself for failing than you are afraid of punishment. After all, you      would     deserve it.

 Finally, his face is dried and prepped for your second attempt. You try to keep your hand steady as he wordlessly grants you permission to continue, dabbing the brush in the makeup more cautiously than before.

 Cioccolata grins, as if he knows the exact spot his makeup should be just from touch. His gaze relaxes, taking in the fear and apprehension on your face like fine wine.

 You set the brush back down onto the vanity quietly, hardly tacking it against the counter. Cioccolata sighs before assessing your work once more, taking his time to study his reflection.

 Much to your relief and delight, he approves. It’s as if your life has meaning again, elevated from your depression in an instant with the brightness of his smile.

 “Good,” he says simply, brushing wet hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “You can help me with this every morning, then.”

 You smile widely despite the agony of your face, revealing the exaggerated metallic fangs that glisten there. He pats your head before rising, shuffling past you and Rynke towards his wardrobe. He spits out a vague insult at the dog, labeling him      patatino     before urging him from his path with the side of his foot.

 “Come now, pets,” he beseeches, dropping his robe to the floor. “We have much,      much    business to attend to.

Tags:

              Explicit Sexual Content

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Character Death

Abduction

Non-Consensual Drug Use

Aphrodisiacs

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Violence

Abuse

Strangulation

Choking

Blood

Injury

Gore

Medical Torture

Bondage

Rape

Psychological Torture

Sexual Abuse

Burns

mold

Death

Body Horror

Broken Bones

Needles

gaping

Vaginal Fisting

Painful Sex

painful anal

Spit Kink

Blood As Lube

Teeth

Biting

Vaginal Fingering

Praise Kink

Forced Orgasm

Non-Consensual Kissing

Slapping

Face Punching

Face Slapping

Punching

Mind Rape

Multiple Orgasms

Creampie

Threesome - F/M/M

Stimulants

Video Cameras

Come Sharing

Nipple Torture

Vibrators

Speculums

Blood Loss

Object Insertion

Orgasm Delay/Denial

Squirting

Marking

Knifeplay

Branding

Domestic Violence

Bukkake

Master/Pet

Fear

Ownership

Secco is literally called "it" through the whole thing

Lobotomy

POV Second Person

The dog is okay

[thefandomlesbian]

Could you do a Hotgomery short?... Something smutty?, there isn't a lot of that parring. ❤❤

Hotgomery NSFW smut!! Yikes this was hard ngl

...

“You want me to put my mouth where?” Nora asked, eyes widening in incredulity. “Billie Dean Howard, that is obscene!” Beside her, the scantily clad psychic laughed, cheeks flushed red as an ashamed teenager's. “Honestly, I don't know what to make of you! Suggesting such a thing! Have you no tact? You’re foul, Billie Dean, absolutely foul!”

Billie Dean swatted her on the upper arm. “Oh, please. You’re the one who brought it up.” She stretched out, her simple white bra and panties clinging to her where Nora had gotten her halfway into a state of undress. “Women do it differently. How did you think it happened?”

“I didn’t know! That’s why I asked!” Nora huffed with frustration. “I just--I don’t quite understand the concept. Why you would want to put your mouth… there.”

Teasing her fingertips over the coarse blue fabric of Nora’s dress, Billie Dean blew a patient sigh from her nose. “I don’t know. Smells good. Tastes good.” Nora retched. “And it feels good! You want to do things to your partner that make her feel good, don’t you? That’s the whole point of making love.”

Nora’s face turned. “In my time,” she said quite frostily, “we made love to make children. Not for any strange ulterior motives. I think your whole idea is perverted.” Still, she pinched her legs together and wriggled with discomfort. Billie Dean’s suggestion had planted something inside her head which she couldn’t shake.

Billie Dean combed her fingers delicately through Nora’s curls, careful not to disturb the wound on the back of her skull. Kissing her always brought that old, metallic flavor into her mouth, like Nora carried the remnants of the lead inside her throat nearly a century later. “I don’t want you to do anything. I was just telling you, since you asked. Alright?” Nora cast her gaze aside. “Aw, sweetie, are we blushing?”

Hissing with distaste, Nora curled her lip. “That would require me to have blood, you imbecile.”

“Love you, too, darling.” Billie Dean rolled over on the luxurious but dusty bed, perching on her forearms to peer over Nora’s long body. “Can we pick up where we left off, or should I get my blouse before someone else sees me like this?” She lifted one elegant bare leg, holding it above her back and twisting her ankle in the air.

A frown pursed its way onto Nora’s lips. “I think I prefer you in this state.” She touched a frigid hand to Billie Dean’s cheek. At one time, the zap of cold electricity would have made her flinch, but now, she relished in it. “You bring me warmth,” Nora breathed as Billie Dean crawled nearer, pressing her body against Nora’s. “I do wonder, though, do you aim to have me undressed by the end of this encounter?”

Grinning, Billie Dean caught her head in her hand, propped up on her elbow. “I don’t know.” Her other hand shifted up Nora’s abdomen, between her breasts, toward her throat, fingers moving like the legs of a creeping spider, until batted it away, catching it in her own hand. “If you’re willing, then I can think of no greater pleasure.”

“And if I’m not?”

Billie Dean laughed. “Then I’ll be half-naked for your enjoyment.” She coiled her fingers around Nora’s hand. “Is that agreeable for you?”

“It is.”

They kissed again. Fingers like icicles curled into Billie Dean’s caramel hair and pulled it back, holding it taut. Billie Dean slid on top of Nora, bracing herself above her partner. The unique, misty flavor of Nora’s breath filled Billie Dean’s brain with a fog, smothering her, so she severed with a gasp only to reattach without a hiccup in her movement. Nora’s smooth pink lips ground against hers with a certain slow clumsiness. In her life, she had never learned how to kiss, and now she gained the skill with practice.

When Billie Dean needed air again, she slipped from Nora’s mouth and landed on her jawline. She hesitated, waiting for a sign of approval. Nora tilted her head back. “Please, Billie Dean.” The politeness, the request, didn’t come from her haughty partner often, and she knew it represented a true desperation. Biting her lower lip, she paused before she drank in the flavor of the Nora’s pale skin. She grazed the cartilage and bones of her neck. At the place where she would have expected to feel a pulse, the flesh held perfectly still. She sank her teeth harder into that place. Nora gasped. Her legs folded up, and her skirt fell up around her waist, exposing the smooth expanses of her ivory legs and the white cotton of her underwear. Billie Dean arranged her body between Nora’s raised legs to keep from disturbing her. As their pelvises met, Nora lifted her hips. “Don’t stop!”

Billie Dean chuckled. She grazed Nora’s lower thigh with her fingertips. “Poor dear. Have I got you bothered?” Nora wriggled. “Maybe we should slow down.” Nora lifted her legs and squeezed around Billie Dean’s hips. “You said you didn’t want anything else,” Billie Dean said, losing the teasing brand of her voice.

“I changed my mind!” Nora began to unbutton the top of her dress. Billie Dean’s hands worked below hers, undoing the string of buttons and spreading it open to reveal the slip underneath. Nora sat up so Billie Dean could peel it off of her. Beneath it, Nora wore a corset, the spiral laces giving Billie Dean trouble. It pushed her breasts up, ivory pillows supported by the tight waist-holder.  “Good heavens, who ever decided I should wear so many clothes?”

“Calm down, take it easy,” Billie Dean soothed. “Show me how to take it off.” Nora unlaced the top bow and released the strings, demonstrating how to loosen it. Billie Dean followed suit and lifted it from Nora’s body. Her breasts eased with their exposure, pink blots staining where the corset had pinched her pale flesh for far too long. Billie Dean arched her back so Nora could remove her brassiere. “Better now?”

A slight hum rose from Nora, but she scrambled to draw up the covers, hastily blotting herself out from Billie Dean’s sight. Billie Dean slipped under the blankets with her. She pressed close, both eyes on Nora’s face, but she didn’t prompt for an answer, waiting patiently for Nora to tell her things. “I--I feel very strange,” Nora admitted in a heavy breath. She pinched her legs together and exhaled, grounding herself. “I think I would like to kiss you again.”

Billie Dean touched her knee. She lifted it into her palm and spread her legs when Billie Dean teased her inner thigh. “Is that all you would like?”

Nora huffed, her vexed face twisting with distress. “You know what I want--please--”

“Tell me.”

She screwed up her face and balled her hands into fists in the sheets. “I would like you to put your mouth--on my--” She sputtered a few times before, unable to decide on an appropriate term, she cut herself off and gave Billie Dean a pleading look. “Please,” she said again, and a thin layer of moisture reflected on her cerulean eyes.

Billie Dean smiled. “Can I pull the covers back?” she asked. Nora bit her lower lip, but she nodded, and Billie Dean pulled them back down and left them in a heap at the foot of the bed. She peppered a string of kisses from the base of Nora’s throat to her sternum, plushness on either side of her face. Nora had gone silent. The embarrassment hadn’t left her. “Relax,” Billie Dean whispered. Gathering the soft fat of one breast into her mouth, she drew nearer to her nipple by nibbling in circles, licking the ridges of her areola before she finally wrapped her tongue around her nipple. Nora arched her back, thrusting her chest into Billie Dean’s mouth. She began with quiet gasps, but her soft moans grew into louder grunts and groans and barely intelligible pleas for more.

When she had sucked enough of Nora’s cold breasts to sate herself, she traveled down her partner’s smooth stomach, taking bites into her soft abdomen and licking her navel, which made Nora squirm and cry out. Her hands dipped lower, stroking the inside of Nora’s thighs, grabbing onto the hem of her panties and releasing again when Nora lifted her hips in encouragement.

Billie Dean dropped lower and hooked her fingers into the top hem of Nora’s underwear, discarding them with a few smooth jerks. The hot, acidic scent of woman assaulted her senses. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes, Billie Dean, please--” Nora cut herself off with a yelp of surprise as Billie Dean burrowed her face into the reddish, wiry pubic hair, holding her legs apart with a thigh in each hand to make enough room for her mouth on the hairy vulva. “Oh, heavens!” Billie Dean licked up one salty, moist lip and down the other. She spread Nora’s outer labia. Light shed on the sensitive, pink inner parts. Billie Dean blew a cool stream of air on her exposed clitoris. Nora squirmed and moaned a desperate, high-pitched sound.

She delivered her first few laps hesitantly, sparingly, but the more Nora encouraged her, the more force she used, burying her face deep into her vulva, the louder Nora grew. “Oh, yes, don’t stop! Good heavens, don’t stop!” Billie Dean sucked on her clitoris with a certain desperation. “Oh--oh--” Her hips ground in the air, knees hooked on Billie Dean’s shoulders. “Oh, I need you!” With a tiny nibble and a hard suck, thick wetness spilled out of Nora’s body, her discharge white in places and flavored sour and salty. “Oh, Billie Dean!” Her pink rosebud nipples hardened into little knots on her chest. Nora gasped for breath, fighting to relax while her lover’s mouth focused on lapping up all of the products of her orgasm.

Billie Dean sat up, sliding back up Nora with a haughty smirk. “You want me to put my mouth where?” she repeated, eyes wide in feigned aghastness.

Nora opened a narrowed eye at her. “Shut up.” She rolled over. “Hold me?”

“Of course.” Billie Dean dipped down for a kiss.

Nora caught her by the shoulder. “Not until you brush your teeth.”

The house shook with Billie Dean’s laughter.

[anodyne-sunflower]

Badflower (Negan's wives oneshot)

Pairing: YouxSherry, some Negan.

Rating: M!!

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon, youxsherry. Gotta have some girl on girl! Lol

Enjoy!!!

Master list _______________________________________________

Your head was lying back against the sofa in exhaustion, and you knew the other women in this harem looked at you as if you didn’t belong here. Truth is, you weren’t as experienced as most of them. All the women here had a couple of years on you, and at the age of 23 you were Negan’s youngest wife.

“You ok, honey?”

You looked up to see Sherry coming towards you, her lips curled into a smile around her cigarette. She was the only one who treated you kindly, and welcomed you with open arms into this harem.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s a lie.”

She read right through your facade, and you sighed deeply as you sunk into the couch.

“It’s a lie…”

“Then tell me what’s wrong.”

Sherry took a seat next to you, brushing strands of your hair from your face as she awaited your response.

“I haven’t had sex with Negan yet. Sherry, I’ve had sex with one man in my whole life. Literally, a week later shit hit the fan and he died…we had sex twice!”

She smiled at your statement, and you could tell she wanted to laugh just a little at your predicament. But, the older woman just rolled her eyes and took a drag of her cigarette.

“Honey, you got a pussy. Negan isn’t gonna complain about anything so long as you open your legs for him.”

“Even with all these women? I mean, I’m sure most of them know how to…pleasure a man.”

She scoffed, and took you by the hand, leading you into her bedroom and closing the door.

“What are we doing?”

Sherry put her cigarette out in the nearby ashtray, turning to look at you as she sat on her bed and patted it.

“I’m going to teach you a thing or two. If I can at least ease your stressing, all the better. The less freaked out you are, the easier it’ll be to have the confidence to please our dear husband.”

She said that last part with a hint of annoyance, and it was very obvious she had a certain hate/love relationship with Negan. But, you were more interested in her offer, and in all honesty being with a woman was always a curiosity of yours. You just never acted on your attraction to them, call it nerves.

“Honey, you in or out?”

You blushed at her question, because suddenly you were feeling oddly aroused and frightened. But, something in your gut was pulling you towards the older woman. You took a seat next to her, heart beating wildly against your chest as she turned her body so she was facing you.

“You sure?”

With a shaky breath, you nodded at her, biting down on your lip as she brought a hand up to brush your cheek.

“Just calm down, ok?”

Sherry smiled sweetly at you, leaning forward until her lips brushed across yours, making your skin crawl with excitement. You were far too nervous to respond at first, but she cupped your cheek and deepened the kiss that you just melted into it, letting your lips part so she could slip her warm tongue in.

She tasted like vodka and tobacco, but it was such a unique mix that it made your blood boil with arousal.

You moaned into her mouth, arching into her when she bit at your bottom lip, smirking against you.

“There we go, honey. Just enjoy it.”

Sherry whispered, pulling away for a second to remove her halter top. With one pinch of the string it fell from her neck, settling at her small waist and revealing her perky breasts. They were perfect in your eyes, and you felt your mouth practically water at the sight. Your curiosity got the best of you, and you lifted a trembling hand towards them.

She was giggling at your eagerness, and she tilted her head to slip her hair away from them, giving you all the access you wanted. You swallowed the saliva that built up in your mouth, giving her a quick nervous glance before cupping her breast in your palm. It was heavy against your hand, but it felt so good the way it fit perfectly in it.

“Mm, how’s that feel? You like it don’t you? Now…”

She placed her hand over your own, squeezing it tightly until it made yours grip her breast roughly. She threw her head back, moaning out at the pressure you put on her breast.

“Now just have fun with it, honey. Just like you will with Negan.”

Sherry eyed you through heavy lidded eyes, her sassy little grin egging you on. Whatever she was doing though, it was working. Because, you could feel the stress you had earlier slowly dissipating. You licked at your lips, scooting closer to the older woman as you continued playing with her soft chest. With a soft brush of your fingertip, you ran it over her hardening nipple enjoying the way she moaned out your name when you did.

“That a girl, honey.”

A smile made its way to your lips, and you let her breast go so you could remove your own black top. You tossed the article casually to the side, baring your own naked chest to her hungry eyes.

Sherry sank bank into the bed, red hair flowing over the silken pillows as she pulled you with her. You straddled her hips, leaning down as you went in for a kiss. Your tongues battled for dominance, none of you really caring who won because you were both to focused on the feel of your chests caressing each other. The rough brush of your hard nipples against each other made you moan out, your hips coming to grind against hers. If you had known being with a woman felt this good, you would’ve done this years ago.

Sherry tangled her manicured fingers into your hair, pulling it roughly until your neck was exposed to her. She sat up and bit down on the skin of your throat, sucking down on it until she elicited a loud cry from you.

Negan was no doubt going to be curios on who left that mark on you, but you were more than sure he’d have no problem once he’d find out it was Sherry. He’d probably end up thanking her for it.

“That feels…so good.” You gasped out, whining when she stopped her administrations and sank back against the bed again. She raised an eyebrow at you, her lips rising into a grin.

“You ever have someone go down on you?”

A blush crept onto your cheeks, and you shook your head as you gazed down between her legs. Her skirt was so short you could see it riding up and showing off the black lace panties she was wearing.

“No…no ones ever you know..”

She laughed at your shy nature, her hand coming up to shove at your shoulder as she flipped you onto your back. She settled herself between your legs, hands gliding up your thighs until she grabbed at your skirt. With one quick movement she pulled it off, leaving you in just a pair of lace panties before her.

“You’re so cute, honey. You got a lot to work with here. I wouldn’t worry about Negan, or the other women.”

She caressed your knee, hazel eyes staring down at you with arousal. She wasn’t rushing anything with you, and it was so different from the man you had been with years ago. Aside from her being a woman, she actually seemed to care for your pleasure unlike your ex boyfriend did.

“So when you’re with Negan, tease the hell out of him. Make him work for his supper? You understand?”

A laugh was all you could respond with, knowing Negan would go crazy if you did that. From what all the other wives had said, it sounded like he loved taking charge in the bedroom, but Sherry did seem like his favorite. So she had to know what she was talking about.

“So, remember. Tease him.”

She winked down at you, gripping the hem of your panties and slowly pulling them over your thighs until they were a bundled mess on one ankle. It felt odd being so naked in front of another person again, and yet with her it seemed somewhat natural. You didn’t even mind the fact that your pussy was bare for her to see.

Sherry leaned down, kissing you softly on the lips, tracing your bottom one with her tongue and sliding it down to your neck. She kissed over the hickey she left, smiling against your skin when you arched into her. Her warm pout dragged over your collarbones, planting kisses along their path until they stopped just above your left breast. Her tongue came out to lick over your peak, making you gasp in pleasure at the feeling. She was driving you mad already with her attention, but you wanted something more. Something that would make you uncoil that tight spring in your lower abdomen.

“Sherry…”

Her name left your lips in a whine, making her laugh at your eagerness to continue.

“You see, honey? Teasing works wonders.”

She blew against your wet nipple, causing the skin to rise into goosebumps. With every touch you could feel your center tightening with need, and you wanted so badly just to shove her head lower until she was lapping at your sex. But, she’d get there eventually you guessed, because she was currently sucking on your other breast , her hand sliding down your taut stomach and stopping just above your aching clit.

“Sherry, please.”

You begged rather pathetically, lifting your hips up just enough for her fingers to slip down lower. She let go of your nipple with a wet pop, smiling up at you before giving in to your request. She trailed her lips down your abdomen, leaving wet kisses here and there until she got to her destination. Her hands came to rest on your hips, holding you down as she gave your swollen clit an experimental lick.

The contact made you cry out, and it was such a strange but inviting feeling. Like a soft burn that made you ache for more.

Sherry hooked one of her arms around your thigh, her fingers spreading your folds so she could have more access to your most intimate area. She didn’t give you a chance to recover from the first touch of her tongue, and with a moan she clasped her lips down around you, sucking gently. But, it was enough to have you gripping at the bedsheets and moaning like a goddamn virgin.

“Fuck!”

You cried out, mouth hanging open in pleasure as she ran her tongue up the length of your glistening folds. She was working you like magic, and she sank her tongue as deep as she could into your entrance, thrusting it in and out until you clamped your thighs around her head.

It was almost sad that you were already close, or perhaps it was a testament to her skills because god she was doing wonders.

“Come on, honey.”

Her tempting voice called out, tongue lapping quickly across your clit as she pushed a finger into you. She curled it against your walls, searching for that spot that would make you scream out. And she found it, because as soon as you felt her finger brush across it you threw your head back into the pillows. The combination of the tip of her tongue flicking across your clit, and fingers pushing in and out of you was bringing you so close to the edge, and it was taking all your willpower not to give in to it. But, it was too much to handle and as she pumped you fast and hard, you felt your walls clenching around her fingers, lower back bending off the bed as your orgasm hit you hard.

“Uhnnn, fuck!”

Sherry watched you with a glint of amusement, her smile widening when she pulled her fingers out and saw as your pussy spasmed from pleasure. She slipped her tongue between your folds one last time, lapping up the juices that were flowing from your entrance. You whined deeply in your throat, pushing down into her lips as she cleaned you up. If only you could keep her there forever between your legs.

She looked down at you as she wiped her arm across her lips, a smirk quickly forming on her face.

“I think it’s safe to say you are no longer nervous.”

“N-no…no.” You laughed out, shifting in the bed as you wiped some sweat from your forehead.

“Told you, honey. In the moment you could care less about all those nerves.”

She was right, you hardly remembered what you were even scared of amidst all the pleasure she was giving you. Maybe the other wives did have more experience than you, but either way you had no doubt now that Negan wouldn’t be turning you away.

Sherry got off the bed, removing her skirt and panties before crawling in next to you. She lied down on her back, spreading her legs just enough before curling her finger at you.

“Want to test what you’ve learned?”

You sat up and moved yourself between her open legs, eyes detailing her figure as you gave her the same treatment she did you. Sherry just gasped when your tongue shyly licked at the tip of her clit, her entrance already wet with need from your earlier actions. But, just like before your own need to please her willed away your nerves and you quickly became content with lapping at her cunt.

“Well, holy shit!”

You stopped licking at her clit, long enough to look behind you to see Negan standing at the door. He leaned casually against it, smirking over at both of you.

“If I had known this is what the fuck you all do while I’m away, I’d come in here more often.”

“Don’t you know how to knock?”

Sherry said with a hint of annoyance at her husband, her hand still tangled in your hair as she held you firmly in place at her wet center. You were having far too much fun to stop though, and you could care less if your husband stood there watching. Because, judging by the bulge in his pants he was enjoying the sight.

“Sweetheart, I own this fucking place. If I want to walk in here without goddamn knocking, you bet your gorgeous ass I will.”

[neverendingmoon]

Title: Ephemeral

Written By: Admin Rei

Fandom: Free! Haru x Reader

Angst/Smut

 {Hey guys! This is something I wrote a while back and thought I’d share it with you! If anyone is interested in reading some multi-chaptered fanfiction written by yours truly, private message me on my personal blog (Sapphirestorm) and I’ll direct you! ^.^ NSFW! Enjoy!}

 -Admin Rei

It wasn’t love. It was simply attraction. It was lust in its purest form. He knew she felt nothing but sinful desire for him and that it would never change. Though he’d never admit it aloud, and especially not to her; his feelings were different for the woman who was currently unzipping her short, black dress in front of him.

He was wholly and fully in love with you, though you’ll never know it. In your mind, this was just a game between the two of you; a never-ending game that always left the both of you only physically satisfied.

 He didn’t know why he continued to let it happen, he couldn’t help the fact that he went running when you called. He was completely enamored with you and you had absolutely no idea. You thought that you both held similar feelings of lust for one another and nothing more

“Haru…” the way his name rolled off your tongue in that breathy tone sent shivers down his back and he was instantly on his feet and pushing the straps of your dress off your smooth shoulders, exposing your bare upper body to his hungry eyes.

Your eyes were closed and your head tilted back as his breath fanned over the skin of your neck. Your hands grasped the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in between your fingers. He knew what that silent request meant. So, hesitantly, he pulled back from you and pulled off his light blue t-shirt and threw it off to the side in the room somewhere.

Your eyes trailed along the muscled chest of the swimmer and your tongue slipped out to wet your lips before you looked up into his cerulean eyes.

Haru wasted no time cupping your face and smashing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. Your hands wrapped around his wrists as you pressed against him, returning the kiss with just as much desperation.

Your mouths molded against one another in pure need. His lips devoured yours to the point of bruising them and you weren’t complaining. He grunted softly when he felt your hands leave his wrists and flutter down to undo the button and zipper of his jeans.

You purred and slipped your eyes closed as his lips left yours and kissed across your jaw, down your neck and over your chest. His large hands swiped up your sides, memorizing every curve and bump on their way up towards their destination. You groaned and bit your bottom lip as his hands cupped and squeezed your bare breasts while his lips trailed along the skin of your chest.

This thing between the two of you had started a long time ago-back in high school to be exact. It was addicting and neither of you could stop yourselves when you were alone. Haruka never had the courage to word his silent question: ‘Why do we do this?’

Although he knew your answer would probably be because he was an amazing lover and that was it, he didn’t want to hear it. No, he wanted you to tell him it was because you loved him and wanted to be with him wholly and completely.

 He had given up on that hope a long time ago because here you were now in your mid-20’s, still at it, and not offering him a hint of why you only wanted him in a physical way.

It had been something that he wondered about all the time, until recently. Recently, he discovered that it would be best he never reveal his true feelings to you lest it make things even messier than they already were.

He didn’t know if this thing between the two of you would ever stop, and to be honest, he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t think he’d be able to see you every day and know he could never have you in any way. At least this way, he at least got some part of you- even if it was just meaningless sex.

“H-Haru…” your pleading voice snapped him back to reality and he groaned as he pressed your back against the wall of his bedroom as his jeans slid off his slim waist and plopped onto the ground around his ankles.

He pressed his lips against yours to swallow a moan as he kicked his jeans to the side and used his hands to slip the rest of your dress off. He was pleasantly surprised to find you weren’t wearing any panties and his hand immediately went to cup your wet, hot, throbbing core.

The feeling of your wetness never ceased to make him groan in satisfaction. He briefly wondered if anyone else made you feel as wet as he did. The thought was killed immediately as he focused on providing you the pleasure you so wanted.

The room was filled with your panting and breathy moans as Haru’s fingers slipped in and out of you, pumping at a quick, hard pace. It didn’t take long for you to unravel and cry his name out as your fluids covered his fingers and hand. The dark-haired free-styler licked his fingers clean in an erotic fashion and you felt yourself become wet once again at the sight.

He whispered your name before smashing his lips against yours and pinning your nude body to the wall with his own. You kissed him with passion, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. You ignored the taste as your hands stealthily slipped his boxers off and you grinned at the shiver that shook his body against yours.

Your arms wound themselves around his neck and you groaned when his thick, hard erection pressed against your inner thigh, nudging your legs apart slightly. You felt him glide his tongue against yours and you responded to the gesture by pulling him even closer to you.

Here, in this moment, Haru pushed away all thoughts of everything and everyone and it was only you and him. You were his and he yours and you were showing him just how much you loved him. Truthfully, it was the only way to keep himself from breaking whenever you two had the meaningless but oh-so-good sex.

 His lips worked against yours and kept the lip-lock going as his hands glided down the curves of your sides and one of his hands slipped under your thigh to lift it up and hook your leg on his hip and around his waist.

 Once your leg was tightly wound around him, his hands slowly and sensually traveled up the front of your body, touching and feeling every part before they parted to meet your own hands and intertwine his fingers with your own; ignoring the feel of the warm metal on your left ring finger as his own digit traveled over it.

A pleasurable purr left your lips when you felt his fingers tangle with yours and your arms being spread apart before being lifted and held up above your head against the wall. His fingers never left yours as he pressed himself further against you before he rolled his hips upwards and sheathed himself inside you in one quick movement.

A muffled cry was swallowed by him as he continued to kiss you lovingly. Your mind was clouded with nothing but the pleasure that instantly coursed through you at having him fully inside you at last.

No words were exchanged as he pulled his hips back and away from yours before they met once again and elicited another cry from you and a grunt from him.

 No words, only breathy moans, pants, and grunts of pleasure filled the dark room as the blue-eyed swimmer poured his emotions into his actions.

His glistening forehead pressed against yours and his eyes were closed tightly as he savored the feeling of being inside you; the pleasure that filled his being making him lose control slowly. Heavy pants escaped his slightly parted and dry lips as his movements became shorter and quicker upon feeling you start to clench around him.

He loved you. He loved you. He loved you.

There have been many times where he almost slipped up and spoke the three words that would destroy everything you both knew and loved. So, he would always catch himself before the words tumbled out of his mouth and instead he would say: ‘I had a good time.’ You would usually nod, grin and tell him you did too before pulling your clothes back on and leaving.

 It never failed.

 Every time you left he found himself cursing himself for letting it happen again and allowing you to break him in this way. He just couldn’t say no to you. He needed you in some way and he would take anything. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen to him should you ever tell him you didn’t want to do this anymore- which was inevitable.

 “H-Haru!” Your breathless cry of his name pushed away any and all coherent thoughts as it sent him over the edge as well, his seed shooting inside you and filling you with a warmth you’ve felt many times before.

The two of you stood there, foreheads resting against one another as you attempted to catch your breaths. Cobalt eyes clashed with your own glazed over ones as a stare-down ensued, each one of you silently speaking to one another; his eyes telling you of the pure love he’d held for you since day one, and yours telling him that this could possibly be the last time if the new ring on your finger was any indication.

Once his breathing evened out, Haru’s eyes glanced down at your left ring finger and he felt the guilt start to settle in his gut. He whispered your name and you looked up at him through your lashes, sending his heart racing and his mind clouding with incoherent thoughts. He couldn’t bear it anymore.

“I…” he bit his tongue and thought of the consequences. “I…l…” a small smile parted your lips and you leaned up and pressed your lips to his in a short kiss.

“Me too, Haru…” the whisper against his lips caused his eyes to widen slightly. Did you think he was going to tell you he had a good time again or did you know he was trying to reveal his feelings? What were you agreeing to?

Haru didn’t have a chance to question you as you deepened the kiss and pulled him against you for another round.

The freestyler had one fleeting thought before he lost himself in you completely,

What would Makoto say if he ever found out that his childhood friend was sleeping with and in love with his future wife?

[bradbdormanus]

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Leggings Style Guide

Leggings are one of the most comfortable items you can wear, but this go-to wardrobe staple has its detractors. It can be challenging to decipher at times how to wear leggings and what to wear with leggings. I love leggings, and I’m here to help you style this much-loved staple into stylish leggings outfits for fall, winter, and spring.

Leggings have been around for centuries; they have been made of various materials and used for different purposes. They have been adapted, updated, and transformed into a closet staple and are still holding steady. They may change material and colors from season to season, but you can wear classic black leggings every year.

So if you have been hesitant to try leggings, criticized for wearing leggings, or want to update your style for cooler weather, make sure you read this entire post. I’ll show you what to wear with leggings so you can put together cute leggings outfits that will take you almost anywhere you want to go.

What Are Leggings?

Before we get into what to wear with leggings, I want to clarify what I mean by leggings. I am not referring to workout leggings that you’re trying to pass off as everyday casual wear. The leggings I am talking about in this style guide are the black, sometimes black leather, or dark gray leggings that end at the ankle. These leggings are made from thicker fabric and do not extend to cover your feet.

In other blog posts, leggings are also sometimes confused with tights. Tights go from your waist to your toes and come in absolute opaque, opaque, and sheer. Tights are also more commonly worn in crazy colors, prints, and textures.

Shopping for Women’s Leggings

When shopping for leggings look for dressy leggings made of thick material, you don’t want anything that is see-through. Make sure they are soft, so they are comfortable to wear. They need to be form-fitting, so they flatter your legs and hold you together. If you purchase leggings that are too thin, you run the risk of feeling unsupported, and in turn, you will feel very uncomfortable.

Lastly, a great legging is versatile and can be worn to work, a dressy night out, or for a casual weekend with a long cardigan or tunic. Good quality leggings might cost more and you might see it as an investment but they are worth it if they fit you correctly and you can wear them for various occasions throughout the year.

Most of the time I prefer black leggings, a black legging is what I wear most of the time and what I would invest in adding to my wardrobe. Don’t drop more than $100 on leggings that you don’t know how often you will wear or that are not classic black. They are not worth it.

I own a pair of black leggings that I love, and they were only $50 from LOFT. They are the Leggings In Ponte, as of writing this they have 179 reviews with an average of 4.7 stars! Worth the price! If you want to try on a variety of leggings in one stop, I recommend going to Nordstrom.

My last shopping tip, make sure you try them on! I know it, ugh! I have to go to the store, select a handful of leggings, go to the fitting room, try each of them on! So much work, blah, blah, blah. I hear it all the time, I’ll just buy them and try them on at home, and if I don’t like them I’ll return them. NO! That never happens, you end of wasting money and with no black leggings. Try them on at the store, ask for shopping assistance! The Nordstrom department assistants are more than happy to help you put together outfits. They help you see what works and what doesn’t and what to wear with leggings.

How to Wear Leggings

I want to review some of the Do’s when it comes to wearing leggings. These style tips are general tips to follow. Sometimes when the outfit looks very nice, these style tips can be broken. (As you’ll see in the winter leggings outfits example below). Use these as guidelines; they are meant to help you decide on the types of leggings to wear, and how to wear them, so you look and feel your best.

Again, these are style tips that I use because I always want to look stylish you don’t HAVE to follow them, but it’s advisable.

1. DO wear proper-fitting leggings 2. DO stick to dark colored leggings. 3. DO stick to solid colors. 4. DO keep it classy, not sexy—unless you are going for sexy, of course. (Read this post on how to dress classy) 5. DO wear long tops or sweaters that cover your derriere. 6. DO wear the right underwear with leggings. 7. DO layer your tops to achieve balance. 8. DO wear leggings with the right shoes. 9. DO make sure your leggings are the right length. 10. DO make sure they are comfortable!

How Not to Wear Leggings

Along with the Do’s, there are Dont’s. These are the things you should avoid when wearing leggings. Again, these are some general guidelines.

11. DON’T wear crazy patterned leggings. 12. DON’T wear bright neon-colored leggings. 13. DON’T wear shiny spandex leggings 14. DON’T wear faded leggings, in any color. 15. DON’T wear leggings that are too loose or stretched out. 16. DON’T wear leggings that are too thin or see-through. 17. DON’T wear leggings to the office unless you dress them up. 18. DON’T wear leggings with holes, rips, or loose seams. 19. DON’T wear leggings with only a tight top 20. DON’T ever wear white leggings unless you’re wearing a long shirt, tunic or dress with them.

Above all, make sure you feel comfortable in leggings, or don’t wear them at all. Confidence is key!

What to Wear With Leggings

Now that you know what leggings are, the best leggings to shop, and some leggings style tips let’s review several stylish ways you can wear leggings.

Besides being comfortable, leggings are pretty versatile. You can wear leggings with a long tunic in the spring, with a cardigan for the fall and a coat for the winter. Switch up the shoes you wear with leggings from flats to heels and they go from casual to dressy. Let’s go over what shirts, sweaters, dresses, and shoes to wear with leggings.

Shirts to Wear With Leggings

The best shirts to wear with leggings are long ones. They cover your behind and make your outfit a little more presentable and elegant. Like mentioned in the style tips above, avoid shirts that are too tight, too short, or too sexy.

A button down, slightly longer shirt is an excellent example of a shirt you can pair with leggings to create a cute outfit for spring. Like the polka dot shirt, I’m wearing in the outfit below.

In the springtime, the best shirts to wear with leggings are light flowy shirts. They create a great balance between the form-fitting leggings and a lightweight shirt. (Do you want to learn more about what I mean by “balance” read How to Look Stylish Everyday – Your 5 Step Checklist). Look for long shirts made from silk, 100% polyester, or rayon fabrics. Also, since most likely you are wearing black leggings, add color, patterns, and dimension to your leggings outfit with the shirt! Have fun and pair your leggings with a with paisley, floral, striped or polka dot shirt.

For a dressy or business casual outfit wear a long shirt with black leggings. This is an example of a slightly long shirt you can wear with leggings. The black polka dots add some pattern and fun to this leggings outfit. I added a thick black belt to accentuate my waist because the shirt was too loose and flowy without the belt. A pair or burgundy pumps and forest green bag complete this outfit. This is an example of how you can dress up a pair of leggings to look chic.

For casual days or a road trip, you could wear leggings with a chambray shirt, and a comfortable boyfriend tee. Complete this casual leggings outfit with a pair of flats, booties or boots, and you are good to go. This combination is my preferred outfit for looking stylish on a road trip. Leggings are the most comfortable and stylish option for long hours of sitting. The layers allow me to peel off or add to, depending on the temperature in the car or outside.

Another popular combination is pairing a tunic with leggings. I don’t prefer this combination for me because it looks bulky and the tunic just takes over the outfit. I’ve seen plenty of tunic and leggings outfits and most of the time they look sloppy and too big. It might be because the tunic ends at mid-thigh, which is the thickest part of your leg, so the tunic only accentuates that.

Long Sweaters to Wear with Leggings

Long sweaters and leggings are one of my favorite combinations! This is not only an easy outfit combination but a stylish one too! Pair your black leggings with a gray, white, colored or even off white patterned cardigan like in the outfit example below.

A few style tips to keep in mind when putting together this outfit combination. For the shirt you wear under your long sweater have fun and play with colors and patterns. Since you are adding a long sweater over your shirt, you can wear a form fitting or shorter shirt. You don’t want the shirt you wear under your sweater be the same length as your sweater, that will look too bulky and out of balance. Wear a shirt that is shorter, maybe ending at your hips or slightly higher.

When pairing your leggings with a long sweater wear a simple shirt, meaning no button downs or anything with too much texture. The simplicity of the style of the shirt keeps your leggings outfit from being too much or too bulky. Think clean lines and correct proportions.

Pairing leggings with an oversized cardigan and high boots are classic for fall, not to mention warm and comfy. The bulk of the sweater offsets the narrowness of the leggings. I opted for a patterned cardigan that brought the eye up and paired it with a mustard tee to add a splash of color. This outfit is stylish, cozy, and my favorite way to wear leggings in the colder months.

Dress with Leggings

A dress with leggings is very different from a dress with tights. I love pairing a dress with tights in the fall and winter. Just imagine, a forest green sweater dress with black tights and knee boots. I love it!! But I don’t wear a dress with leggings.

Remember the distinction I made above between tights and leggings; they are different. If you are considering wearing leggings with a dress, depending on the entire outfit and the occasion I would recommend to switch them out for tights and see what you think.

Shoes to Wear With Leggings

Leggings are, first and foremost, casual wear, so that means that you can stick to more casual shoe options: flats, sneakers, converse, low ankle boots and the like.

In the spring, a beautiful flat is a good casual option to wear with leggings. The falts can be a point or round toe, embellished or patterned (gotta love a good leopard print!). But do not wear flats that have an ankle strap or multiple straps that wind up the ankle. The strap will wrap around the end of your leggings creating a weird, clumsy look.

Boots and booties pair perfectly with leggings for cold weather, rain, and snow. The boots you wear with leggings can be flat, wedged, or heeled. If you are going to the snow, you can wear snow boots with your leggings outfit. And as you can see in the outfit example in this post, you can wear black leggings with brown boots!

If you need to dress up your leggings pair them with heels! A leggings outfit for a night out or work call for pumps. Black pointy toe black heels work for both day and night and create a classic outfit.

Best Leggings for Work

As you can guess by now the best leggings for work, are high quality, thick black ones! I know, you’re probably thinking enough with the black tights I get it, but especially under this topic, I should reiterate it one last time. Black leggings are the best leggings for work!

A solid black pair of high-quality leggings can mimic a skinny pant and be appropriate for work with the right fitted blazer. In this outfit, I kept a black-and-white theme. I paired black leggings with a white blazer and a large white scarf. This is an example of a no-nonsense outfit; I kept it classy and stylish to make it work appropriate.

Pairing your leggings with a button-down is one of the simplest ways to pull them off. This look can go casual or slightly dressy, depending on the shirt, shoes, and accessories. Make sure that the shirt is long enough to cover your behind, and you can belt it to keep your shape as I did in this photo. Since a button-down is a classic shirt, keep the leggings classic as well and stick with black, chocolate brown or a dark navy, especially if you are wearing them to work.

When putting together a leggings outfit for work your shirt can be solid in a light color, or you can go with a print like this black-and-white polka dot. Note: If you are going to wear a patterned blouse, make sure that it’s a subtle and classic pattern that matches the outfit. You could also opt to wear a long-sleeve printed button-down shirt with your leggings and add a blazer and pumps for a stylish work outfit.

Create Your Own Cute Outfits with Leggings

I hope this leggings style guide has answered many of your what to wear with leggings questions. You are now armed with the style tips to put together your own cute outfits with leggings.

If you have any questions or need specific outfit advice, please leave me a comment below!

Stay Stylish, -V

Shop Leggings

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The post What to Wear With Leggings & 20 Style Tips on How to Wear Them appeared first on Stylishlyme | Personal Fashion Blog.

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[anoldwound]

Hello, Hello - Adam/Elle [Heroes]

Title: Hello, Hello Characters/Pairings: Adam/Elle Rating: NC-17 Spoilers/Warnings: Explicit sexual content; spoilers for season 2 and the graphic novels. Word Count: 2741 Summary: “I’ve been watching you,” Elle continued, her right hand resting on his chest as her other hand ran its fingers through his hair. “You’re lonely.” Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. A/N: Thanks to skypipe for the beta. “Hey there!” The young Elle Bishop came bounding into Adam’s cell, an eager grin on her face. Adam flinched away reflexively, remembering what had happened the last time she had been in here - she’d nearly fried his skin off. Not exactly a welcome memory. “Hello.” “Are you scared of me?” She seemed to become elated by the prospect of having frightened him, and her shoulders straightened importantly. “No, I was just startled. What is it that you want?” She sagged a little bit. “Oh. Well - I was bored. I wanted someone to talk to.” “I thank you for gracing me with your company,” Adam said, letting only a hint of sarcasm seep through his syllables, “but I’m rather busy at the moment, little one.” “Don’t call me little.” Her hand started glowing. “I’m ten.” “Terribly sorry.” He couldn’t fight the smirk taking over his face. “Calm down, now. Don’t want to hurt anyone with those bolts of yours, do you?” “Maybe I do. You can’t get hurt, though.” The glow faded away, but she still looked surly. “You’re not busy, either. You just sit there all day. You never do anything.” “Not much to do, is there?” He picked at his fingernails idly. “Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes and plopped next to him on the bed, legs swinging. “They keep me in here all day. I never get to leave.” “You and I have that in common, at least.” “We have more in common than that!” She sounded offended. “Such as?” He looked back at her, still smirking. “We both… have blonde hair… and we’re both special.” He nodded, his smirk deepening. “Ah, but you’re a rather different sort of special, I’d say.” Elle seemed to take this as a compliment - she beamed and her eyes lit up. “I like you!” “Why, thank you.” “No one ever talks to me here. They all just tell me to go away or to play with my dolls. But I don’t want to play with dolls.” She pursed her lips. “So I just zap my dolls and then I go around and I zap some people in these rooms because it’s fun. Then I get in trouble, though. Do you want to get married?” Adam blinked. “Sorry?” “My daddy says when two people like each other they get married. Do you like me?” “Of course.” There was no harm in humoring her, he supposed, if it would get her out of here. She clapped her hands in delight. “Cool! Now I just gotta give you a ring and we’ll be married!” She pulled something out of her pocket - it was a golden wedding band, engraved with curlicues. “Where did you get that?” Adam murmured, looking at the ring closely. “It was my daddy’s, from before my mommy died. He doesn’t wear it anymore, so he won’t be needing it. Now it’s yours!” She extended her palm expectantly. Adam gingerly took the ring out of her hand and placed it on his finger. “Happy now?” “Yep! Oh, wait - ” She dug into her pocket again and put on a diamond wedding ring. The ring was too large for her, and the diamond looked comically huge on her small finger. “Now we’re married!” “Huzzah.” She furrowed her brows. “What does that mean?” “It means, essentially, ‘hurray’,” he explained, and she grinned again. “Cool! Okay, now there’s just the honeymoon.” Her brows furrowed again. “I don’t know what happens then, though. I think we’re supposed to go to Hawaii or something.” “We can save that for later,” Adam assured her. “Okay!” She gave him a quick hug, said “Bye!” and bounded out of the room, hair swinging behind her. Adam watched her go, then took the ring off of his finger. He inspected it for a couple moments - then took his wedding necklace out from under his shirt and put the band with the rest. ---- “It’s my birthday,” said a chirpy voice from the doorway. Adam looked up; Elle was leaning against the doorjamb, wearing an impossibly short skirt and a rather revealing shirt that dipped well below the neckline. Adam couldn’t help but glance quickly - her breasts looked soft, round, supple, and he would’ve gotten hard right then had he not have already learned to control that particularly jumpy member around this one. “Happy birthday,” he said, and a teasing smile curled up her face. “It’s my eighteenth,” she said significantly. “What a coincidence. It’ll be my three hundred and fifty-second in a few months.” She giggled like an insipid child, Adam thought in annoyance to himself as Elle laughed and stepped seductively into the room. “Always had a thing for older men,” she said. “Hmm, I’ll bet you have.” He looked her up and down - oh, for God’s sake, he was human, wasn’t he? It really wasn’t fair how attractive she was, considering that she was Bob’s daughter, of all people. Elle seemed to relish in the look that he was giving her body - her face was turning slightly pink, and her eyes sparked. “Like what you see?” He made a noncommittal noise and turned his head away slightly. “Sorry I don’t have a present for you. I wasn’t aware of the occasion.” “Oh, you didn’t need to get me anything.” She climbed onto his bed and rubbed her ankle against his leg. “I want to give you something instead.” “Really? And what might that be?” He peered at her out of the corner of his eye. Elle shifted herself closer, so that her lips were just grazing his ear. She breathed, “My virginity.” Adam let out a puff of air. “And why would you want to give me that?” “Because.” She shimmied herself even closer, fingers gently stroking his chest, his face, his arms. “I like you.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ve liked you for a while.” “Have you.” It wasn’t a question - he’d suspected as much, from the constant lusty looks she’d been giving him over the past several years. “I’ve been watching you,” Elle continued, her right hand resting on his chest as her other hand ran its fingers through his hair. “You’re lonely.” He turned his head back to her, an eyebrow raised. She was more observant than he’d given her credit for. “A bit hard not to be, considering I’ve been in this cell for almost thirty years,” he replied. “It’s more than that.” She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re just… lonely.” He gulped, despite himself. “It’s okay, though.” A huge grin took over her face, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I am, too. So now we won’t be lonely anymore. Besides…” She laughed and waved her hand in front of his face - she was wearing that wedding ring from years ago. “We haven’t had our honeymoon yet!” “You’re incredibly naïve,” Adam said quietly. “You should go.” Elle pouted, and enclosed her arms more tightly around him. “No.” Her breasts were pressed flush and hot against him, and he held back the moan that threatened to escape from his mouth. “Your father won’t like this.” “Daddy doesn’t like anything. Might as well have some fun, huh?” She nibbled gently on his ear, and he bit his lip so hard he could taste blood, then felt the wound heal itself. Elle’s hand slid down to his pants, and Adam couldn’t stop the groan that was slowly pulled out of him as Elle’s fingers rubbed his balls through the soft fabric. She giggled again. “You do like it!” She sounded very proud of herself. “Oh, damn it all,” he mumbled to himself, and abruptly grabbed Elle’s forearms and pushed her flat-backed on the bed. She looked stunned. “Know that I’m only doing this because I haven’t had sex in years,” he told her. “Also know that I feel absolutely no amount of affection for you whatsoever, and that, in fact, I am rather contemptuous of you. Do you still want to do this?” She bit her lip and hesitated, but nodded. “Fine.” He yanked down his pants unceremoniously, and started un-buttoning her shirt. She squirmed a little under his touch, and he ignored the jolt of annoyance that went through him. He could not, however, ignore the actual jolt that Elle suddenly sent coursing through his nerves. A strange, choked gasp fell out of his mouth - it was painful, yes, but the pain was nothing compared to the adrenaline rush. She gazed up at him with an eager look in her eyes, still biting her lip. “Well,” he finally said after a few moments, “that was different.” Elle let out a breath. “Good,” she said, and wrapped her arms around him. “Now fuck me.” “Happy to oblige.” Adam finished un-buttoning her shirt, then hitched her skirt up above her thighs. Elle moaned faintly as he pulled down her lace panties and laid himself on top of her, gently biting her neck. She twitched as his cock rubbed up against her crotch, and her nails dug into the soft flesh just above his ass. “Oh my God…” she muttered as Adam started kissing downwards until he reached her breasts, rubbing a nipple with his thumb. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his hips, and Adam almost cried out at the contact. Elle shocked him again, and watched in fascination as the black burn on his chest quickly faded away. He panted. “Right. Let’s get on with it.” She was a little wet, but not really, and he knew he should make her come in order to make it less painful for her, but he couldn’t be bothered. He slipped inside of her, and the strange noise dropped out of him again as he felt how tight she was - so tight, and warm - Elle let out a little whine of pain, and she clenched around him. “Aah…” Her face pinched as Adam thrust, and her nails dug in harder. “Ow… ugh, goddammit…” The pleasure came through in large waves that wracked his entire body, made him shudder and shake inside of her, and after a few minutes, with a final thrust, he came, and he groaned in satisfaction into the air. He rolled off of her, breathing heavily. Elle’s face was still pinched, but she was breathing heavily also. “So,” she said, “that’s what everyone’s been talking about.” She sounded a little confused. “That hurt.” Adam made a mock-sympathetic noise, but didn’t say anything. “Did I bleed?” Elle sounded shocked as she looked down and saw the bit of blood on the white sheets. “It happens. Nothing to worry about.” “Oh.” They both lay there silently for a while, until Elle pulled up her underwear, pulled down her skirt, and stood up. “I guess I’ll - ” she started, when suddenly she looked horrified. “What?” Adam sat up and turned to see what she was looking at - Bob was standing in front of the large window, looking absolutely furious. “Oh, fuck,” Elle said, and Adam had to agree with this sentiment. “What is going on in here?!” Bob yelled, and angrily stormed into the cell. “Elle, what did he do to you?!” Elle appeared at a loss for words for a couple seconds… then tears started to fill her eyes, and her lower lip trembled. “Oh, Daddy… he… he…” She began to sob, and Bob’s face turned a livid shade of red. “You - you - !” Bob sputtered at Adam, spit flying out of his mouth. Then he punched Adam in the face. Adam fell back against the wall and rubbed his cheek. “I didn’t do anything to her!” “You hurt my little girl!” Bob went over to hug the crying Elle, and glared at Adam so intensely that it was rather a surprise that beams weren’t shooting out of his eyes.  “You are going to pay for this; mark my words.” Bob quickly ushered Elle out of the room, and Elle winked at Adam before the door closed shut behind them. Adam pounded his pillow furiously. That bloody bitch, he thought. ---- “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Adam’s eyes flickered open. Elle was standing over him, running her fingers through his hair. “Hey,” she said softly. “What do you want?” he asked irritably. He tugged at his pillow. “I just wanted to talk.” “I highly doubt that,” Adam said, and turned to the wall. “I’m trying to sleep.” “It’s noon.” She sat carefully on the edge of his bed, still petting his hair. “Most people are up by now.” “Well, I’m not most people, am I?” He paused. “Please go away.” Elle sighed in exasperation, like she was dealing with a small child. “Is this about that thing from a couple years ago? You can really hold a grudge, can’t you?” Adam stifled a chuckle. “They haven’t fed me since that day, you know, not to mention the various torturous devices your father ‘experimented’ with on me. Forgive me if I’m not inclined to like you very much at the moment.” Elle didn’t say anything for several seconds, then Adam felt her lie down next to him. Her fingers entwined with his and she breathed on his neck. “Please,” she whispered. “You’re the only one who gets me.” He didn’t respond. “Adam?” She squeezed his hand. “Get out,” he said quietly. She seemed to turn into stone next to him - and with one swift movement, she was gone. (But not before she sent a particularly nasty bolt his way and threw their “wedding” ring at him.) ---- “You disappointed me, Peter… and just when I thought we were getting to know each other…” said Elle’s voice from behind them. Shit. “There’s a warehouse in Montreal,” Adam said quickly to Peter. “121 Rue Saint-Jacques. Meet there.” They separated, Adam running back for the door - when Elle sent a large stream of electricity at him, flinging him against the wall. She then sent one at Peter, yelled at the Haitian to go after him, and Adam started running again. He turned the corner, Elle hot on his heels, firing bolt after bolt at him. He dodged most of them, until finally one caught him right in the back and he fell to the ground with a shout. “Hello, Adam,” Elle said, voice dripping with false sweetness, as Adam groaned and slowly rolled face-up on the ground. She bent over him, smiling. “Daddy’s gonna be so proud of me when I bring you back in…” Dammit, gotta think of a plan gotta do something - He did the only thing he could think of - he kissed her hungrily on the mouth, her gasp of surprise fluttering down his throat. “I’m so sorry, Elle,” he whispered, pulling away. “For everything.” She blinked rapidly at him, her chest heaving up and down. “You were right, you know,” he continued, trying to make his voice as smooth and silky as he possibly could. “We do have a lot in common. I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize it, but… you are everything I’ve ever needed.” “I don’t believe you.” Her voice shook slightly, betraying her. “I’ll prove it.” He reached down his shirt and pulled out his wedding necklace. Elle’s eyes widened slightly at all of the rings hanging off of it. “Do you see your ring here?” He unclasped the necklace and slid the ring off. “I kept it here, with all of the others. But it’s yours.” Elle said nothing, just stared. “We’ll get married for real, soon. After I’ve taken care of a few things. But I need to know if I can trust you. Can I, Elle? Can I trust you to help me?” She gulped, but nodded. “You have to promise.” “I promise,” she said, so low he could barely hear her. He slipped the ring on her finger, then grabbed her arm and stood up. “I love you, Elle.” His stomach dropped. She couldn’t possibly believe him - it had sounded fake even to himself… But clearly she had, because she looked up at him so adoringly that it was rather sickening. “I’ll see you soon,” he added, quickly kissed her on the cheek, and ran. Ah, well. It was always good to have a back-up plan, should Peter get into a spot of trouble and suddenly become unavailable.