#opened a tut for those clouds..

[moriki-ki]

joy of flight

[fanged-fanfics]

Ok, but what if next time shadow milk comes into the dough baby's room, we show off our artistic skills by doing makeup on him? Making him as pretty as ever!

.

(And then when he leaves, black sapphire is like 'what in the world happened to your face-?'.. 'Art, my dear minion, ART')

☆ Blue Hues of Trouble — Shadow Milk & Child!Reader ☆

Genre: Semi-Fluff, Platonic || they/them pronouns for reader || Warning for mild manipulative themes

A/N: Previous part for those who need it!

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You rummaged around in the box sitting beside you, taking out tools you honestly can't remember the name of. You knew dressing up your face was something adults did for fun, and hey, Shadow always did say you were his favorite little artist! The jester sat before you, hunced over so you could reach his face.

You applied what had to have been the third layer of blush, drawing shapes on his cheeks with eyeliner ink. He sat perfectly still, humming in contentment. While you were turned away, his eyes flicked over to the corner of your bed. The doll he'd given you was haphazardly tucked away, mismatched button eyes peeking out of the sheets. He couldn't help grinning to himself.

"Say, little one, did your papa say anything about our plush friend?" He asked, putting on the most innocent tone he could muster. You huffed, applying eye shadow to his right eyelid with a frown "No.. I gotta hide it. Papa would try to toss it away". "How cruel!" Shadow Milk gasped, his face the picture of childish hurt "All because your dear friend wanted to give you a little gift?"

You nodded sadly "Yeah... but he doesn't play with me anymore! He just talks about big stuff...". Shadow Milk shook his head, tutting as he pulled you into his arms "Poor little doll! All alone, with no one to play with" he sniffled. You couldn't help but giggle at his silly antics "Nuh-uh, I have you!". Shadow Milk grinned, but no kindness reached his eyes "That's right. You'll always have your dear friend Shadow Milk"

The doorknob clicked, and the strong hands cradling you were suddenly gone. You landed on the carpet of your room with a grunt, looking around in bewilderment. All traces of your blue and black friend had disappeared in a mere blink, as if he were never there. You felt yourself beginning to pout, but footsteps sounded of someone entering

"Little sunflower, are you here?" Pure Vanilla asked. When he saw you, his worry melted into a tiny smile. He strode over, makeup kit completely ignored as he lifted you onto your feet "I was looking all over for you. Are you alright?". "Yes, papa" you nodded. You couldn't help but notice lines on his face that hadn't been there before. Faint darkness under his eyes, circles wearing heavy on his kind face. Pure Vanilla's smile almost faltered seeing you looking at him in concern. He stood back up, patting your head "That's good. I've someone very important I'd like you to meet"

Just then, the door creaked open more. Dark Cacao was there, and right beside him stood someone new. A tall man with pale grey armor, iridescence shinning in his large sword. He placed the weapon to the side, intense gaze falling upon you. You scooted closer to Pure Vanilla, who held your hand as reassurance. This new stranger bent down, seemingly scanning every inch of your face. "May I have your hand, little one?" He asked, extending a gloved hand to you. You stepped back, looking up at Pure Vanilla. He nodded gently "Don't worry, this is a dear companion of mine. He won't hurt you. I wouldn't let him"

With some of your worries softened, you gave the stranger your hand. He closed his eyes, and a light emitted from him. The glow of it made you feel warm, and it seemed to circle your being. The stranger's brow furrowed, and he stood "I can sense it". Pure Vanilla suddenly looked afraid "You don't mean...?". The other nodded. "Their souljam has been touched by deceit. I can feel it, clouding the edge of their essence"

Dark Cacao's frown deepened, and Pure Vanilla gripped his sleeve "No.. no, no, this can't be. I've been so careful- I can't-" his breath hitched "Elder Faerie Cookie, you must help us". "Don't worry, I won't let any harm come to this doughling" Elder Faerie promised "I can watch them, in my kingdom"

"No!" You shouted, clinging to Pure Vanilla's robes. You hid your face in his stomach "Don't wanna!". With a deep frown, Pure Vanilla turned to the faerie "I think that would only harm them.. they're so young, they still need me". "But this is the safest way" Dark Cacao said "If that Beast is back, we don't know what others might have been freed. We must eliminate this problem quickly". "There has to be another way" Pure Vanilla plead, holding you close to him. He looked to Elder Faerie, who gave a conflicted sigh

"It is possible that I can send a guard from my kingdom, someone to watch over them. They won't be able to purge the influence, but hopefully it can stop the spread" he said. "Thank you, Elder Faerie" Pure Vanilla responded "For all your help. I'm more greatful than you can imagine". "I'll also be sending someone" Dark Cacao chimed in "This castle needs protection". "I couldn't ask that of you" Pure Vanilla said "You need someone to protect you as well, if this really means what we fear it does"

"You are one of my oldest and closest allies, Pure Vanilla Cookie" Dark Cacao responded "A threat to you is a threat to me. I know what it's like to lose yourself... to lose your child..." the Cacao king gave you a look, his sternness softened by reflection. Pure Vanilla nodded "Thank you, my dear friend. I very much appreciate it. Whenever you need, I will make sure to return this kindness"

After a long time of the three discussing their options, they were soon being seen out. You were much more relaxed, but still sticking to Pure Vanilla like glue. "You may expect Silverbell Cookie's arrival soon" Elder Faerie said, standing in the threshold of the castle doors "I have faith that he will guard this castle to the fullest extent possible". "I will send you Chocolate Bark Cookie" Dark Cacao said next "He is one of my oldest allies. You can rely on him, much like you rely on me". "I cannot thank you two enough" Pure Vanilla sighed "Please, be careful on your travels". "Don't worry about us" Elder Faerie said "We'll check in soon enough"

Once inside, you headed to the kitchen. It was still a little upsetting that Shadow Milk had left so suddenly, but now you were also confused. What did all this mean? Did you do something wrong? Why did everyone seem upset with you? As you mulled over the question, Pure Vanilla sat you in your favorite chair. "Care for some Fluffy Castella?" He asked, taking out a cooking pan. You grinned happily "Yes please! And a bit of Toffee jam". "Coming right up" Pure Vanilla chuckled "How about you help me mix it all together?". You slid off of your chair, padding over to excitedly peer at the counter "Yeah!! You can count on me!"

Lingering on the windowsill, a small inky black blob with a single blue eye observed you. It just as suddenly slunk back, rushing across the fields. Around the outskirts, where the trees covered the moon and the forest ground stayed dark, two Cookies leaned against the bark of the trees. The blob stopped before them, morphing and twisting. It grew in size until the gunk peeled away, revealing Shadow Milk Cookie. "Master Shadow Milk!" A pitchy voice squealed, the cookie with red apples in her hair jumping forwards to greet him. "That took hours" the Cookie in purple and black pointed out, sliding into view with smooth strides

"I needed information" Shadow Milk responded simply "It seems our target is getting reinforcements. They're trying to weed us out". "They caught on this quickly?" The purple one asked. "That Elder Faerie Cookie.. I just know he's planning to seal me in that cramped tree again" Shadow Milk mumbled. "Never!" The gal declared, squeezing Shadow Milk's arm in a crushing hug. "Don't worry, minions, your master won't go down that easily" Shadow Milk declared, bravado returning to his tone "With just a pinch of deceit, we'll plant the seeds of our brilliant takeover!"

"Is the... face paint a part of it?" The purple Cookie asked. Shadow Milk raised a hand, feeling the botched shapes and messy makeup that was still on his face. He put his hands on his hips with a scoff "This, Black Sapphire Cookie, is art. If you're jealous that I can pull it off, just say so". "Of course not, Master Shadow Milk" Black Sapphire replied, bowing deeply "How foolish of me". "You're forgiven. This time" Shadow Milk replied, beginning to step into the thick woods "Now we must prepare. Our next act is just a curtain call away!"

[barbiesmuse]

BETTER VERSION HEADCANONS ༘⋆₊˚ෆ

;ֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + reader

talia talks: i'm just going to leave this here. it's actually filthy and i probably won't be looking in the mirror for the next week. this was originally supposed to come out before the actual fic buuuut it didn't so enjoy my scraps while i finish "welcome to new york!!" ofc credits for the idea go to @ungodlybre. she's such a baddie!! okay, enjoy this filth! love you yesterday, today, and tomorrow! with all the love in my heart, natty. here's the link to better version.

“they call it the honeymoon phase.”

sweethusband!simon who was the sweetest man when you'd met him. it was hard to believe he killed men with how kind he was to you. he practically worshipped the ground you walked on.

sweethusband!simon who had made sure whenever he came home from work he stripped at the door in case he smelled of gunpowder. showering as quickly as possible so he could hold you in his arms.

sweethusband!simon who pressed soft kisses to your hair while he fingered you in your sleep the feeling of your warm walls comforting him. the smell of your shampoo clouded his senses, and his movements became staggered as his hard-on grew. But your pleasure always came before his.

sweethusband!simon would beg to wash your hair in the shower, he loved the feeling of his body against yours while the water pours down on the two of you. the sticky feeling casting a comforting warmth over him.

sweethusband!simon who felt himself falling more and more in love with you every day. if felt as if he was meeting you for the first time all over again. every time he woke up next to you, butterflies fluttered in his stomach. the beautiful sight of you sprawled in his bed, his cum stuffed inside of you from the night before.

sweethusband!simon who fucked you so so well before his first deployment since your wedding. your pretty pussy clenched on nothing for the next six days just at the thought of how he touched you that night. his hand gently embracing your neck as he fucks you in front of the mirror. his nose pressed behind your ear, his breath hot on your neck. sweethusband!simon who made you watch his fat cock plunge in and out of you, of course you didn't have to do any work. you just had to watch and keep those pretty eyes of yours open. even when you tried to help him, he pushed your hips down and muttered something about how “i wouldn't be a real man if i needed your help, b'sides s' good workout for me.”

sweethusband!simon who would whispered dirty things in your ear, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. every time those pretty eyes of yours closed he would pull back on your hair, force your mouth open, and spit in it. he'd push your head forehead and force your eyes open if he had to. if you wanted this you'd better watch. like his sweet girl would.

sweethusband!simon who would say things like, “fuck baby, she's squeezing me so tight. she missed me today didn't she?” and you would just nod in embarrassment, your cheeks flushed a soft pink. he would tut at you in disappointment before slapping your clit. the sudden stimulation making you whimper. “say it, tell me how much my sweet girls missed me. how bad they needed me. cause fuck sweetheart, i missed you both to pieces.

“then it'll turn to hell, just. like. that.”

assholehusband!simon who would treat you as a roommate, not on purpose you just simply became another being in his life. his love never faded, his sweet actions however did. if you asked him to help you he'd drop whatever task, but he wouldn't say a single word. and when you muttered a thank you she would give you a shrug.

assholehusband!simon simon who didn't strip at the door anymore. when you'd ask he'd simply grunt something about, “shit, forget it'll be fine.” and you'd simply let out a sigh. he'd just gotten back from deployment and you didn't want to push him. so each time you'd let it slide. the smell of gunpowder soon became an odd cologne.

assholehusband!simon who would still finger you in your sleep, the only time he truly felt comfortable with expressing his love for you. he'd have small conversations with you, it gave him comfort knowing that you still trusted him this way. “you're so damn perfect sweet girl, please don't leave.” and when you'd respond, he would pull his fingers out of your gushy pussy as quickly as possible. your orgasm snatched away from you. he'd stuff his fingers in your mouth and make you suck them yourself.

assholehusband!simon who would let you shower with him. he'd be just fine without you in the shower. he couldn't care less, and he made it known just by his actions. he wouldn't even touch touch you. the water was steaming hot, the steam clouds floating out of the shower as if they were trying to escape the awkwardness themselves. the water was hot but you felt cold.

assholehusband!simon who would trudge up the stairs if he got home late from deployment. his eyes immediately landing on the lingerie that adorned your body in such a gorgeous way. like you were a little present waiting for him to present. he loved how even though he treated you like a sleeve for his cum you still got all pretty just for him.

assholehusband!simon who watched his cum drip out of your sweet little pussy, his mark on you. he'd dreamt about your stomach becoming swollen with his kids. the thought of your beautiful tits only becoming larger. the thought of him fucking you, his veiny cock deep inside your cunt. his lips wrapped around your nipple, your sweet milk filing his mouth.

assholehusband!simon who would slap his cock on your tongue, your sweet eyes meeting his. he looked down at you as if you were his servant yet there was a small hint of guilt. yet it was clouded by a small look of love in his eyes. no matter what, you'd always be his sweet girl. always. “mm, suck so it can be all ready for my girls.” he'd whisper as his cock hits the back of your throat.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Good Behaviour 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

Note: :)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Once you return with the tea, you’re shut out. You’re thankful for the moment of isolation. More and more you enjoy the time when you are alone. When there is no expectation. 

When you were locked up, you always had to be on, always had to be ready. Either a guard was coming to flip your cell or someone else was scoping out what little you. As your mind wands, you can’t help but trace along the scar which marked a fight over your coveted commissary cupcakes.  

You exhale and scroll down the document on filing expenses. You’ll need that for all those transactions at the cafe. An airy sort of disbelief clouds you as you try to focus. How things have changed. Now you can simply go buy a dessert and walk out unscathed. To think you survived like that for so long makes you feel even smaller in this fancy office. 

You have to break that mind set. You have to move on. You can prove everyone right. Not again. Your family, your teachers, your friends. Now, Mr. Laufeyson too. You will not back slide. 

When the door opens, you flinch and glance over. Pine exits first, trailed by your boss. The blond glances over and dips his chin slightly, “it was a pleasure meeting you.” He drawls as he approaches the door. He pauses to peek back at Laufeyson, “about time you got some help. I might actually get my books balanced on time this year.” 

“Very nice seeing you, Jonathan,” Laufeyson shoos him with his long fingers. “Perhaps if you didn’t insist on meandering.” 

Pine snorts, “good luck to you, darling.” He gives a two-fingered salute and lets himself out. You look at the laptop and highlight a paragraph to add to the image of your concentration. 

“Well, you sure do put on quite the front, as your ilk might phrase it,” Laufeyson says as the door clicks shut. He turns and sits on the edge of your desk. 

“Sir, I’m doing my job,” you assure him and look up from the screen. “Is there anything else I should be doing?” 

Your hand rests on the mouse. His eyes scour the desk and he clucks. You wince as suddenly he reaches for you. You form a fist with your other hand as he seizes your wrist. He squints down at the rigid line across the back. 

“This looks like quite the accident,” he muses. 

“Sir,” you tug gently. Your heart pounds behind your ribs. Before, if someone touched you without warning, you’d crack them in the jaw. This isn’t then. This isn’t prison. 

He hums and lets you go, “oh yes, I’m sure you have been through a rather turbulent time. This must all be very dull to you.” 

“It’s calm,” you assure him and rescind your hand, hiding it in your other. 

“And you surprisingly so,” he stands and tuts. You watch him stride around the office. “There is one other meeting today. I expect the same courtesy.” 

“Yes, sir,” you reply. 

He sniffs and spins on his heel. He marches through his office door and your frown. It’s as if he’s taunting you, even baiting you, into misbehaving. But why? Doesn’t he need help? Is that not why he hired you? 

You go back to your review, switching to the inbox as a new inquiry dings in. As you draft your response, a knock interrupts you typing. You clear your throat and stand up. You open the door and your voice clogs in your throat as you reveal a familiar face. 

“Dina,” you blink at your parole officer. 

“Hiya,” she smiles at you. Her blush-laden cheeks and fake lashes are deceiving, along with her rose-coloured jacket and skirt set. “Look at you, dearie, all proper.” 

She squeezes your shoulder and you hold back a growl. People are so touchy outside. Inside, they know better. 

“What are you...” you crane to see the clock on the wall. “I’m not late.” 

“Oh, I’m not here for you. Well, I am but I’m not,” she waves off your worry. “I’m here to chat with Mr. Laufeyson. I find it helpful to review parole conditions with employers.” 

“Uh, right. Yes. I’ll get him,” you back up and welcome her in. She giggles as she steps inside, her eyes flicking up and down. 

“So good to see you trying, dearie.” 

Her cheerful tone grinds on your nerves. She puts on this octave that tweaks in your ears. A mask over her true self. Before you came back with your letter of offer, she was threatening to put you back into gen-pop. 

You go to Laufeyson’s door and tap gently, “sir, your next meeting.” 

There’s a lull before he appears. You back up as he steps through and he slithers toward the pink balloon of a woman floating around. He extends his hand. “Diana, was it?” 

“Dina,” she faces him and her eyes round. “Oh, my, aren’t you a specimen,” she trills and shakes his hand. 

“Dina, apologies, thank you for coming. Might I offer you a refreshment? Coffee? Tea?” He says. You fight not to roll your eyes as you foresee another trip to the cafe. 

“Oh, no, it’s afternoon, no caffeine for me,” she insists. “But thank you, Mr. Laufeyson, you are a gentleman.” She releases his hand. “And so tall. Look at you.” She fans herself and you cringe as you stand trapped against the wall opposite your desk. 

“Shall we?” He angles as he gestures to his office. 

“Oh, happily,” she bounces forward. You watch without a word. Laufeyson turns to follow, his smile falling into a rather derisive expression as he eyes her ringlets. They are a bit young for someone her age. 

He shuts the door after him as she makes some comment about the decor. You shuffle back to your desk and sit. You’re a bit peeved. He could have warned you it was Dina. No, that would be too considerate. 

You roll your chair to the desk and run your finger over the space bar. It would be far more prudent to have a machine, or at least a kettle in office. Perhaps that could be a project for you. You could draw up an estimate of the cost against the price of the repetitive cafe purchases. The initiative might just break through the ice of Laufeyson’s ego. 

💼

There was a routine in prison. Meal times, bed time, it was all the same; it was everything in between that was unpredictable. Would you be sleeping in your bunk or in solitary? 

The days turned thoroughly dull. You're not mad about it. You like the slowly building sense of security. That peace only punctured by vivid dreams and noisy neighbours. 

It's pay day. Your first. You expect a chunk to be missing due to the advance but you've budgeted it all out. As you do your time; all according to boldly defined borders. 

You get out of work and go straight home. Dina checks in to make sure you're not out without reason and she's sure to do so frequently. She keeps asking about Mr. Laufeyson, likely to determine if you're doing well. You think you are. 

You take the early bus. That way you get there with time to spare. You sit on the bench outside the building to eat your overnight oats. You have an earbud in as you listen to a podcast about an old reality show they always put on in prison. You didn't really like it but it became a pasttime anyhow. 

As you swallow the pasty oats, you ponder whether you should add more cinnamon or sugar. You try not to go overboard with the latter. You push your tongue through the mouthful as soles tap closer. The men in their suits and women in their cleancut dresses sift into the building with pricey briefcases and branded coffee cups. 

"Ahem," the pointed leather toes turn and stop before you. 

You look up and swallow. You hide your mouth as you lick your lips. "Mr. Laufeyson. Good morning," you greet. 

"Waiting on me?" He tilts his head. 

"Um, no. Just eating my breakfast." You stir the oats. 

"Outside?" 

"It's... a nice morning," you shrug. 

"Suppose," he mutters. "Well, if you would like to come inside..." 

"I'll be on time," you assure him. 

He narrows his eyes before he goes. You bite your cheek and eye the half-finished container. You feel guilty. You twist the lid on and wipe the spoon clean with a tissue and tuck it all in your bag. Your hunger evaporates. 

You take your travel mug in with you as you hitch up your bag. You slow before you get to the stairs. You suppose you could stop and make sure to appease him. 

The cafe is mostly empty and you put in the usual order. The woman at the counter smiles. A girl, really. Younger than you. She might be in school. When you were her age, not very long ago, you were already in orange. 

"Would you like to try our new light roast espresso?" She asks. 

"Oh, no, it's not for me," you say as you count out change for the tip jar. 

She nods and thanks you for the tip. 

"You mean you come here every day and it's not for you?" She asks. 

"My boss. He works upstairs." 

"Right," she smiles. "Well..." she moves behind the display and grabs a thin sheet of parchment. She plucks out one of the swirled cupcakes. "Cinnamon bun. Another new creation." She shoves it into a bag and puts it on the counter, "free of charge." 

"Oh, no, I can't--" 

"I won't tell anyone," she smiles. 

"Um, okay, thanks, but... why?" You ask. 

"I don't know. You're here all the time. Kind of a hassle to be running down here all the time when you're not even getting anything out of it." 

"I guess so. It's nice. Thanks." 

"Let me know if you like it. I had to get up early to bake." She says. 

"Sure." 

She makes the cortado and you take it with another thank you. You head up with the end of the paper bag scrunched against your travel mug. You approach the door and realise you are a bit short of hands. You knock on the door with your elbow. 

You wait. You try again. Finally, it opens. 

"At last," Laufeyson sneers. 

"Coffee," you offer him the cortado. 

He makes a noise. Almost as if he's surprised. He takes it and backs off. 

"Mr. Laufeyson," you cross to the desk and put your cup and muffin on the desk, your bag in the chair. "I had something I wanted to suggest." 

"Mm, and that would be?" 

"A coffee machine? Or kettle. I drew up a pricing analysis--" 

"Oh, is that your suggestion? What is it, then? Are your feet getting sore? Not used to hard work?" 

"Um," you shake your head. "No, sir. It would be more cost-efficient--" 

"I've no worry for finances. It is my specialty, darling," he retorts. Your lips part then snap shut. You nod. 

"Understood." 

"Besides, it hardly seems you mind so much. What is that you've stowed away?" He points to the paper bag. You look at it and swipe it up. 

"A muffin," you turn to him. "Want it?" 

"Want it? Do I want a sugar-laced mess? No, I do have some standards... despite hiring you." 

Your brows pop up and you blink. You drop the bag on your desk and grit your teeth. You have to make yourself turn away. You pry your fists open and tap the button on the laptop. 

"Something to say?" He prompts coyly. 

"No, sir, I'm only starting up for the day--" 

"Ah, then, you will remember to smile." You don't say anything as you move your bag out of your chair. As you bend to nestle it under your desk, you feel a tickle along the back of your skirt. "Perhaps you might invest in an iron with your first check." 

You snap up and spin, swiping away his hand with a swat. "I didn't give you permission to touch me." 

His green irises flash and he takes a smug sip of coffee, "oh," he shakes out his other hand. "Violence." 

You frown, "no, you... you touched me first." 

"Ah, yes," he holds out his ivory hand to examine, "see, it is already red." 

You shake your head, "you--" 

"I believe that is against your probationary arrangement," he tuts. "Dina did seem rather concerned for your propensity towards anger." 

"I'm not-- I didn't-- you--" 

"Tsk, tsk, and it was going so well." 

You stare at him, temples thumping as he backs away and twists on his heel. He struts into his office with a snicker. You fall into your chair and slump. You should've known it's all too good to be true. 

[iwannaleavemymind]

Hit it from the back she louder than two sold out nights!!

Plug!Sukuna x f!reader

‼️Minors dni‼️

Warnings; high sex, drug use- marijuana obviously, rough sex, degradation, backhanded praise🤭, reader called ‘slut’ and stuff like that, hair pulling, and yeah just general self indulgent smut.

It started out as just little back alley switches- a few 20 dollars here and a joint here and there but you’d be lying if you denied that fact you’d buy from him more because you had a little crush on him.

And you just happened to trip and fall onto his couch on what what supposed to be another deal?

your soaked pussy might know the answer for that!

“F-fuck stay still woman.” He groans above you, you poor abused cunt being pounded ruthlessly by the man above you staring right into your fucked out high expression of ecstasy.

But you can’t help squirming under him!! He’s just so fucking deep- so fucking good and reaching those sweet spots fucking perfectly.

“Please s’kuna hah- you’re s’deep ngh-“ your words slur a bit from the haziness of weed clouding your mind while being fucked out at the same times your mind a whirlwind of serotonin and lust.

His hands grip your thighs, forcing them open more, trembling and weak from holding yourself up, legs dangling in the air and your nails raking down his tatted back would turn anyone on and fucking crazy too- but hey he’s the one who’s quite literally balls deep inside you fucking you senseless.

“Cmon baby you can’t be this dumb already huh? Haven’t even let you cum yet.”

And fuck it was true- as soon as you’d almost cum all over him, he’s stop- teasing and edging you to the point of tears only would he then resume.

“Aw fuck I gotta give this sweet cunt what she wants though hm?”

Your incoherent babbling is quickly replaced with high pitched moans and screaming his name as he fucks himselfs deeper and deeper into you over and over, hitting your g spot just right making you squirt all over his cock

“You’re so messy girl- teach this sloppy pussy a lesson then hm?”

Famous last words.

He pulls out of your cunt with a wet pop! And flips your over ass up and face down into a pillow, spreading your legs wide with your slick still dripping down your cunt onto your inner thighs- so wet and perfect.

“Hah- fuck baby you’re so damn tight and wet- s’perfect f’me”

He positions himself at your entrance yet again, pushing into your sopping wet pussy and fucking your with reckless abandon earning squeals and whimpers to escape your lips, your face buried into the pillow moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Yea y’like that baby? When I fuck you like this?”

He grabs the fast of your ass with his strong hands, his fingers digging into the soft skin and fucks your pussy like it’d be his last day on earth if he didn’t- rough and fast like a damn animal.

“Yesyesyes oh my god I’m gonna fuckin’ cum ahh!” You cry out, cock drunk and hazed and mind narrowing down to your own pleasure.

“Cum for me little slut, hear that? She fuckin loves me.” Your wet cunt sloppily cumming all over his dick and squelching and sloppy wet noises fill the room from your multiple orgasms at this point.

Not long after you, he bottoms out cumming deep inside your pussy with your back arched down just the way he likes it, the fat of your ass jiggling every time his hips meet yours. His seed fills your tight cunt, spilling out of you.

“Surely she can take it all cmon baby.”he tuts disapprovingly, his hips slapping against your ass fucking his cum back inside you.

“Just. thrust. Like. thrust. that.” His word punctuated by mean, slow, deep thrusts making you squeal and nails digging into the soft cushions below you.

Eyes rolling back and tears streaking your face, he keeps going, your poor abused pussy coming over and over again all over him, but you’re not complaining- it felt good. Addicting even.

“Hah- f-fuck I can’t anymore I hah- oh fuckkkk!” Your loud needy moans are met with a harsh slap on your ass, fucking the words out of you, making you a mindless little cockdrunk slut just how he likes it.

“Fuck baby you’re takin me s’well might have to keep you around forever huh?”

[schlobba]

⋆.ೃ࿔* :･ lasso.ᐟ ft. erwin smith

( 🗒️: love erwin smsmsm )

⋆.ೃ࿔*𐔌 synopsis゛ remorsefully, your fiancé makes up for trying your patience. reassuring you he has no intention of dodging the responsibility of marriage, in fact, he wants to practice consummation as many times as you allow.

⋆.ೃ࿔*𐔌 ♯: fem!readr; most lowercase intended; breedingg ofc; mating press; oral (f); country life; domestic/homestead; engaged; pet names: diamond, sugar ‎ ‎ ‎ ⓘ wrd count: 3.2k

ꉂ`⟡···· “y’know my dress might needa be a little bigger by then, right?” “’course, diamond… how else are we gonna fit that behind?”

➜ darby, montana

( 1898 ) 12:02 pm

fall sent whipping breezes throughout the acres of land erwin had so lovingly tended, the head of his horse emerging first from the thick tree ridge. your nape greeted him in place of that sweet as syrup smile he’d grown accustomed to. a ways down the hill divided by a dirt path, carving knife warm with your sweat cutting into an apple, nectar running down your wrists while taking pieces for yourself.

the herd stayed closely knitted, expecting ewes grazing peacefully under the territorial eye of your unruly ram byström who also spared glances at the hound dog. with such dense clouds above, the shifting trees surrounding your little washboard and seating provide an unneeded shade, branches supporting a sprawling line of linen above your head.

a wooden table shaved of any splinters supported your elbows, brown eyes taken with how autumn sweeped this ranch not even days after your engagement. tutting your lips in intellection, there wouldn’t possibly be any time to plan a ceremony with erwin making preparations for winter. it was as if snow already coated the ground, seeing as you’d all but noticed hooves heartily beating against gravel.

the rusted whine of the gated entrance finally caught your attention. schulz obediently follows the statuesque blonde, yankee blue eyes digesting you. from that shirred cotton embroidered in floral design to your bare feet — he would turn his trouser pockets inside out all over again.

“one of these days you’re gonna step on something,” he shouts all proper in passing while guiding the chestnut stallion to an open pasture. always speaking chaste yet possessing the unique ability to understand your nonsense.

“not with all these leaves,” one leg over the bench already – you sat the knife aside, “we needs a rake ‘fore snowfall.” you insisted. adjusting the hem of one’s gown, pulling it above your buxom and rushing over.

carefully shutting the enclosure he turned to your nosey expression, “I’ll pick it up with my sheers.” he assured. the man’s lips couldn’t help but curl as you were now inches away from him. though his affections were promptly rejected, “what?” erwin asked.

“ya’ talks about your sheers more than anything,” eyes rolling you ignored that knit forming in his thick brows.

“come on now…” the blonde’s voice faltered in the skin of your neck, pulling away just to see if anything changed.

“spring or summer then?” you scrutinized all but those things that tempted you to drop it like his cupid’s bow.

“elaborate.” his brows fell with an air of unamusement.

even upspoken he knew you were serious. your persiflage continued, “well d’you think white would look good on me in july heat?”

“I think it’s timeless on you.” he gushed against your cheek and settled for the corners of your mouth since you kept moving.

“well then - I just wants to know why you’re so nervous.” your forearms interrupted his rough, calloused hands sliding down your waist. in that moment you glared through him, truly trusting he’d answer accordingly.

“it’s been two months.” erwin stated. “I don’t wanna rush it, diamond.”

the fleeting gaze you unknowingly gave sent aches to his chest, his adam’s apple bobbing before you parted your lips, “why not? are you not excited?”

“please.” eyes cutting to the tip of your nose and pillowy lips, he scoffed. “I want to make sure everything is right before we start a family.”

you giddily flashed your crooked teeth. “who said anything about that?”

“we’re getting married,” he knocked his forehead against yours like a bull. “you’re having my babies.” grin across his face toward the end, finally planting a kiss more becoming than the last few.

analogous to a whirling current of wind gathering you up, erwin’s hands now firmly hoisted your weight in a candid fashion. a brief glimpse of concern lit in his pendulous eyes when your breath hitched in response to such suddenness, subsequently washing over as soon as your hand began blithely unbuttoning his blouse.

your lover’s snug embrace radiated a warmth, twirling with your nerves. for the first time during this lazy october afternoon you’re finally looking like you’ve lifted a finger throughout, erwin hungrily watching these beads of anticipation fall below your collarbone.

“do you wanna start practicing?” he fondly asked, words steady despite his haste. effortlessly carrying you toward the porch of his ancestral farmhouse, authentic leather boots sounding off creaks in the steps he feverly trekked.

“what’d you call it before?” you played with the strands of hair laid thick across his chest, ahead of sitting up in his arms to kiss along his jaw as he jangled the doorknob.

“extracurriculars—” a sharp air left his nose, earning your laughter. the blonde’s support altered to where his palms now held your behind, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly as to stick along for where he’d take you.

the house smelled of sweet spices and vegetables, thoroughly flavoring the meat you had been slow cooking for hours in hopes of a tender finish. its scent wafted through the foyer and pleasantly met erwin’s nostrils, surprisingly arousing him even more.

“christ, how’d I get so lucky...” he deeply spoke into your mouth amidst the hissing breaths and smothered noises you both let out without discipline. the tent in his pants growing larger under the white gold buckle of his cowboy belt, poking at your heat needily.

the blonde didn’t care for sheets or hide blankets, he marched straight into the dining room like one of them soldiers.

“what?” you broke the sloppy kisses to watch the hallway staircase grow distant, eventually out of sight once he passed the kitchen countertops. “y’wanna eat first?”

“mhm.” erwin answered. prompting his placement of you directly on the table yet to be set, hiking your frills up above your thighs. cotton panties gated with a bow, that of which haloed over a stain of longing just for him. a finger of his pressed against your wetness absent of novelty, exploring your folds and watching as they ate up the fabric, cloth roughing up against your more sensitive flesh.

the man had since kneeled, practically breathing into such supple skin whilst pressuring more against your clothed cunt with his thumb. he often caught himself wolfing down the spit collecting in his mouth, salivating at the thought of you on his tongue. it wouldn’t be the first time he considered himself at your mercy.

“yous gone let me take ‘em off all by myself?” you queried, looking down at him with an expectant stare. your fiancé’s gaze was more occupied by your other set of lips then, but he eventually adhered and reached his hands up your spread thighs.

he slid your pretty underwear down the skin of your legs, a hand helping you wriggle the rest of the way. your body tensed when he kissed one of your feet which were damn near filthy from chasing chickens, but erwin was just as ribalding. he simply won’t admit the times his languish left him cumming to only the scent of your worn panties. as if he really needed to, his expression outwardly famished at the sight of you dripping onto the polished oak, smooching up your inner thigh whilst holding a vehement glare.

a gratuitous groan rattles from your depths, enduring the waves of pleasure ensuing as his tongue greedily laps at your juices. those rigid palms of his subconsciously found themselves hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders, allowing himself to suckle at your intimacy more aggressively. your precious hums and squeezing legs encourage the blonde, his pronounced nose bumping up against your shorthairs, jaw slacked so his tongue could properly punch in and out of your twitching cunt.

erwin’s cock had been weeping between his legs, jumping at the sound of his spit bubbling against the bud of your cunnie. you didn’t think his tongue could reach any further but he soon required deeper conversation with such a talkative pussy, forcing you backward onto the sanded tabletop. his hairy forearms wrapped around your legs to urge them apart, fingers creating little indents in your thighs while his face buried itself snug between those soaking folds. the blonde loudly smacked and sucked like a bitch to a bone, licking stripes up and down your cunt interchangeably with tongue fucking you, bottom lip firmly pressed under your slit.

“that feel good?” he slobbered. your yelps and drawn out vowels were complimented by his attentive croons. he empathized with how starved your hole was for his girth, feeling it tighten around his saliva coated muscle in prayer for something shaped just like him to guzzle down.

amidst reply your chin bunched up under the downward look you gave him, reaching lower to spread yourself wider. “go up—“ you insisted breathlessly, heaving in and out while a ball of yarn unraveled inside your tummy.

spoiling you similarly to a debutante made it so erwin rarely put his needs first during sex. only when you began bucking into his face after around twenty minutes of nonstop devouring did he become the slightest impatient. still he chose to satisfy himself with your climax on his taste buds, ensuring his girl’s cunt drooled ahead of pounding it senseless. but even in this pussy-whipped daze the blonde’s cock kept him mindful. the man would never be devoid of any purpose, not when your plump pussy’s sitting all gorgeous, practically begging for his attention.

this time you didn’t have to yank his head of angel hair to shoo him in light of your overstimulation. he’d already stood on the soles of his boots, breathing through his mouth like an exasperated idiot, deftly undoing his belt to release some of the tension.

“diamond,” erwin murmured under his breath only to realize he’s called on you, “mnh, don’t eye me like that.” knitting his wild brows did he whisper. your lover boy could barely stroke his cock he was so close, and your repeatedly renewed expression of excitement at his length was incredibly rousing. “can I…?” words laced with perversion did he query, gently pushing his fat cockhead against your gushy cunt, a groan leaving him as his eyes ate away at your beautiful body.

your meek smile melted him with embarrassment, “hmph, I gots to say it?” you asked, lips forming to wince while you elevated up onto your elbows in search of a better listen.

“no, s’just—“ erwin’s voice rasped out, only when he discarded anything from his waist down and began climbing up onto the table did your face morph with curiosity. “let me lift your legs a bit.” he kindly requested, breath now clashing with yours.

your movement lasted little without his assistance, softly guiding you back to fold your legs. he was now looming over you with an ounce of uncertainty, analyzing the scrunch of your nose and wrinkle ridden strain. words of concern were promptly exchanged, initiating an adjustment beneath his large stature. now that the burning in your hamstring subsided, you had more room to experience this relatively new position, his pelvis hovering a ways above yours — sheer length of his manhood all but making up for the distance.

he grinded his stiffness in a specific motion, teasing himself with your slick while securely grasping the skin under your knees. your moans goaded him to pass the surface, heightening once a few inches actually did. in this state erwin felt he could thrust deeper than ever, sweat running down his hefty ballsack in temptation. all your devoted fiancé could think about was jerking his dick against the hugging walls beyond your entrance, desperate to fill up his barn cat of a woman.

after a few moments of torturously paced action, erwin finally honed how hard he’d let his shaft slap against the plush skin of your ass. grinding his forehead into yours while rhythmically thrusting into you, drinking up your adorable faces if he wasn’t occupied with blinking in that very second. his voice had periodically joined that of your own each time you gripped particularly tight, sucking him in a spoiled fashion each time he reared back. the plap plap plap of his dick made your brain rattle ’round, eyes half lidded and mouth wide with moans like a brothel girl. when words were coherent they implored he continued, begging like the submissive wife everyone expects of you.

the table rammed back and forth on its four legs, parallel to erwin’s ploughs that became harsher each time his cock plunged inside your saturated mess. you couldn’t recall exactly how your dress turned into a flimsy skirt around your waist, folded a dozen for erwin’s gawking. but it was his regards that centered you — his constant presence no matter how primitively he may have fucked into you. the blonde didn’t relent in his shower of love across your exposed skin, passionately kissing over your shut eyes and such when you’re much too engrossed to return said kisses. even minding his off white teeth against your breasts, pampering you delicately akin to a hand sculpted china doll. such precise movements yet the furniture beneath you still moved with exuberance, and you still frothed around him in melded bouts of ecstasy.

“feels nice, don’t it?” erwin exhaled, experiencing himself flex inside you sensitively. the heat of the kitchen spilling into the room, droplets on one’s skin illuminated by a warm rustic lighting. he wondered what you thought of him, pinning you down like that of a roman trying to win a brawl.

“god almighty…” your voice eased out between hiccups of enjoyment, “don’t stop!” you need not ask but he’d developed some liking for the nagging - the reassurance.

“gone have to wed in spring then,” the blonde happily reaffirmed his position with blue collar arms, “seeing as you’ll be a mama by tonight.” he lovingly said before weighing into you more, damn near flattening your thighs onto the table just to allow more room for his shaft to grind against your swollen bundle of nerves.

your reply was written roughly, forcing your tongue past his supple lips and somehow pulling him in closer, imagining your hands cradling his head like this under sunlight stained by fancy colored glass. neither of you let up for air — breathing between this salivating exchange in an animalistic intensity, daydreaming of one another, comfortably naive.

“you’re squeezing me so tight.” he spoke into your loose lips, watching you break away with pitiful squeals once his dick began repeatedly bullying a certain spot near your cervix. erwin relished in your expression, all gobsmacked like an innocent southern belle, only to be broken in by some rugged stud. those beady brown eyes grew wide, and he could only buck at the thought of you cumming around his girth. “what’s that sugar? can’t take no more?” he nibbled at your chin.

“mphhm—“ you hum and swore all at once, subtly nodding while a pressure built up just below the surface of your abdomen, brows knitting almost painfully.

your fiancé struck hard opposed to fast now, letting his pelvis slam against yours with every coo and comment. “y’ain’t bailing on me now, are you? not when y’got me all worked up…” he muttered, his lovely blue eyes sitting drunk on a determined expression. “…not when I got so much to give you, hm?”

it was erwin’s actions that were more demanding compared to his words, usually. but the tone he’s giving you more than beckons you let him hammer you til’ the next harvest moon. his breath hit against your face in wild pants like some dog in heat, and you more than obliged with your digits digging into his shoulders. nose brushing against yours, he continued rutting inside your squelching cunt until your voice was giving out, grasping behind your knees tighter than ever before just to keep his soon-to-be wife still for his thick ropes of cum.

“m’not, mmm’not,” you slurred incoherently. “y’just gonna get me knocked uuuup!” how cute it was to watch your lip quiver with restraint. erwin wondered if you measured your affect on him. certainly not — not when you walk around here asking to be barefoot and pregnant.

sounding like a babbling fool, your trembling legs fought the urge to lock around his defined back, toes curling so hard a knuckle or two may have popped. the blonde’s baritone voice encouraged you almost frantically, pacing his breaths in hopes you would follow said motions, thoroughly guiding your unruly reactions beneath him. all while pumping back and forth, ruts getting sloppy and short as to keep any semblance of your alluring warmth and maintain the perfect environment for his seed.

his ears perked to your groans of relief, listening as you came undone around him with an expression only he got to see. ‘twas a matter of time before your cunt made way for his gluttonously dense amounts of cum, weakly throbbing with each tense of his balls against your gaping hole, pussy lips impressively parted by his sheer mass alone. erwin intrinsically held you under the grip of his large farm-hands, placidly shuttering in response to the tranquil lull your body provided. he was no longer overladen with energy as you more than sucked every bit of it out of him, all your love could do was slowly flutter his lashes back open, witnessing your edible expression stare back into his own unexplainable countenance.

“did y’mean it?” you ask, voice labored with exhaustion and knees still surrounding your pretty lil’ head.

his grapple became lazy and slick with mixing sweat, “huh?” erwin grew perplexed at such a persistent thing like you. though accompanied by how persuasive you are, he learned to love it years ago. pet name on his tongue, he inwardly hushed himself and filled the silence with a considerate gaze.

“‘bout me being a mama ‘n stuff.” you tried to avert your eyes but not only was he still brooding over you, he followed the turn of your head so he never left your field of view, all to kiss you once more.

“a million times over—” erwin muffled into the plump skin of your cheek, marking you from your forehead to your chin with good loving. “you know that.”

“and the wedding?” another familiar question soaked with insecurity left your nectar flavored lips, those of which erwin often had to ignore just to hear you clear.

“hmph…” he freed your legs at last, sitting up but not slipping out just yet. “may. when the sun lasts longer and you won’t need sleeves.” erwin said thoughtfully. the blonde’s sentence narrated the image he envisioned, his wife amidst fields of green dawning victorian lace and warm silver.

“y’know my dress might needa be a little bigger by then, right?” you said cautiously. a hand of yours grazed your belly, heavy with implication and overall fatigue.

“’course, diamond…” you could hear his toothy smile before cutting your eyes to him, both his palms now encapsulating the waist they fit so perfectly around. “how else are we gonna fit that behind?”

ᯓᡣ𐭩

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!Reader

Chapter 3

Marcus tries to ruin your relationship with Nikolai

cw: cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, physical abuse, cunnilingus, violence, extremly violent chapter but not towards reader, vomiting

Masterpost

It was Tuesday and you were scared. Marcus hadn’t fucked you but he was still determined to piss of Nikolai, spending the day torturing you, making sure you were freshly bruised and battered for Nikolai. He’d dragged you into his ‘office’ and smacked you across the face, yelling about how you were a whore. 

You were angry you just laid there and took his abuse. What else could you do? He was bigger. He could kill you and get away with it. They would just send Nikolai another girl, he wouldn’t even question it. 

You had this little thing. A little piece of hope. A horrible man that was occasionally kind and regularly generous. Marcus just had to ruin it, ruin you. You’d stumbled to the door, having to re enter the code three times before getting it right and being let in.

You stood in that little locked room. A white gift box sat waiting. You knew he was watching. He could already see your hair was a mess and your makeup was only half done. You winced as you shrugged your coat off. At one point you thought Marcus was going to dislocate your arm just for the fun of it.  You chewed on your lip till it bled, what was another injury?

You held the bottom of your shirt but couldn’t bring yourself to pull it up and over your head. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you collapsed to your knees. The first time he met you he said he liked that you could follow instructions. You couldn’t do that anymore. 

You knew so little of this man. You hugged yourself, ready for his rage. He’d grab you by the hair and drag you down the hall, strip you himself and force himself inside you. The lines of grout between the tile distorted as tears clouded your eyes. 

The door opened and you let out a sob, shaking uncontrollably. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered to his shoes, too terrified to look up. You were a dog at his feet. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“What happened, Kotenok?” He knelt down in front of you. “Did Arno hurt you?”

You flinched when he touched you. Waiting for pain was almost always worse than the actual pain, just the anticipation of what was going to happen to you made you nauseous. 

“I just want to see.” He tilted your chin up and tutted at the bruises and swelling. “Come here. I’ll clean you up.”

He wrapped an arm around your middle and hurried you upstairs to his bathroom. You whimpered out apologies the whole way. 

“Did Arno do this?” He made you look at him, his expression conveying that he wouldn’t ask again.

“No. Marcus did. He…he was my boyfriend and he’s the reason I…that I’m here.” You don’t know why you tried to hide your situation from yourself. He’s the reason you were trafficked, raped, beaten and all other horrid things that had happened to you. You could never find the ability to say those words out loud, especially not to a man who had helped facilitate it. 

“He work for Arno?”

You nodded, trying not to break into sobs again. 

“I’m going to take your clothes off. You’re going to take a bath. I will handle the rest.” He helped you take off your clothes and ran the water for a bath. The tub was large and deep so the water came up to your collarbones easily. It was hot and the bubbles smelled like lavender. He ran a hand over the top of your head,  “I’ll be back.”

You heard him yelling in the other room. You were glad Arno was getting an earful but Nikolai’s words did little to make you feel safe overall.

“Waste my fucking money!” 

“I won’t fuck her like this!”

“I’m not paying!” 

“Make it right.”

You were something he paid for, damaged goods. You could count your lucky stars that he hadn’t thrown you back out but he wouldn’t take mercy on you. You’d still end up spreading your legs for him, letting him take what he pleased. Marcus not fucking you was the only reason Nikolai still would. 

You rested your head on the edge of the tub, the ceramic was cool against your face. The bathroom door reopened and Nikolai walked in, stripping as he approached.

“He won’t touch you again. Not like this.” He said, light up a cigar.  He got into the tub behind you, water sloshing everywhere. The irritation was palpable in his voice, muttering, “I pay too much for you to show up at my door like this.”

He pulled you into his lap and blew his smoke above your head. You were afraid to relax into him. The heat radiating off him felt angry. You were a very small creature, resting between the teeth of a monster. 

“Kotenok, I need you to be honest with me.” The smell from his cigar was already making you woozy. He laid a hand at the base of your throat and pushed you back against him, “Did you tell them anything about me?”

“No, sir.”

“Kotenok…” He squeezed your neck, metal from his rings fitting between muscles and veins. 

“I promise! He…Marcus gets jealous still.” Your words came out hurried, stumbling over each other.  “Arno embarrassed him so he took it out on me. They were mad about the twenty four hour thing. Marcus wanted to ignore it. He…”

Nikolai released your neck and moved his hand to your forehead. 

“Kotenok, I believe you.” You breathed out slowly. All you could think about was how easily he could push your head under the water and hold you there. “You did good. We need to establish a rule though.”

“Okay.”

“I need to know I can trust you. I know you’re a smart girl. You know I’m not a saint.” You nodded along with his words. “But I take care of those who show me loyalty. Pussy of a man can't stand the girl he turned into a whore is now a whore so he beats her, it happens. A man’s favorite whore gets taken, beaten, raped, tortured, it can happen.” It felt like your whole body must have been vibrating with how hard your heart was beating. “Now if my favorite whore is loyal, I’ll take care of her in the end. Lick her wounds, buy her Hermes, eat her out. Whatever she wants. But if I find out she told them anything. Where I live, who I talk to on the phone, my favorite football team or even the taste of my spend. I will hurt her more than they ever could. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir,” You shuddered out, new tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. He turned your head to force your gaze on him. “I can be good.”

“I know. You were good. So tonight I’ll take care of you.” He tapped his finger against the tip of your nose. 

He had you hold his cigar as he washed your body, gently pulling  a washcloth along your arms and over your back. Bubbles and smoke clouded your vision till you started to slip around in the water, holding onto thighs and arms for support.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Let’s get you something to eat, yes?” 

He dried you off and put you in the same plush robe as last time before laying you on the bed with a promise he would be back soon. You stared up at the mirror on the ceiling. With the robe undone you could see all the marks across your body. All the places your blood vessels were broken, all the swollen parts of you. You examined yourself, fingers pressing against each spot, testing how much it hurt. You found yourself slowly drifting off. The sheets smelled like him. Musk, oud and tobacco. They weren’t clean like the first time you came over. You grabbed his pillow and pulled it to your face, burying your nose in it. 

Last week he asked if you were afraid of him. You were afraid of all clients in the same way you were afraid of stray dogs. Fear was what you ran on. It kept you that pretty sweet thing that knew when to show her belly in submission. Nikolai was an unknown beast. You now knew there was a fine line separating you and his violence. You could still feel his hold on your neck. You stared at the ceiling and thought about watching yourself get fucked again. Would he ever call for you again? You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear you crying. Pathetically you wanted him to hear. Offer a sliver of comfort by holding you, kissing you, dripping sweet words into your head. 

You missed comfort more than you feared him. Missed feeling cared for. Marcus never bathed you even before he betrayed you. Never carried you to bed. You wanted to scream and cry. Throw a tantrum because you didn’t deserve this. You had much better hopes for yourself at one point. Better plans and dreams. You told Marcus once about how you wanted to travel, that felt like a lifetime ago. 

“You can sleep after you’ve eaten.” He tapped your cheek gently. You’d started to doze off. 

Nikolai had a box of pizza and a bottle of wine. He propped you up on the pillows, setting the pizza out between the two of you. With an arm around your shoulders, he played with a remote till one the paintings across from the bed moved to reveal a television. He flipped through the channels till he found a movie he liked.

“Eat.” He looked at you with disapproval when you reached for the wine first. You folded your slice in half and ate quietly. The hand on your shoulder played with your hair absentmindedly. Every other bite he’d offer you the bottle of wine, no glasses this time, and tilt the bottle to your lips till you drank. 

The pizza gone and the bottle empty, he climbed on top of you, muscular calves straddling your legs. 

“Did he fuck you?” His words echoed around your head, bobbing around like waves. You shook your head weakly.

“No, no one did. I…I…for you.” Words refused to connect in your brain

“Good.” His knuckles grazed your cheek, you leaned into it like a cat. His Kotenok. “I haven’t eaten a good pussy in weeks.”

He moved down your body before hooking your legs over his shoulders. There was an unease in your stomach as his fingers split open your centre. His breath was hot on your clit. Your muscles ached too much to even try and  lift your head but you could feel his eyes on you, just staring, examining you like a specimen. He was spreading your folds open, watching you drip onto the robe. 

He mumbled something in Russian and before you could ask what, his mouth was on you, licking around your entrance. Your thighs clamped down around his head. He was laughing, forcing your legs apart again.

“Pull my hair if you want but don’t stop me,” he growled. 

He ate with a selfishness, caring more about getting as much of you into his mouth as possible rather than giving any pleasure. He kept his mouth and tongue at your entrance with his nose bumping against your clit. You pulled his hair whenever his tongue flicked your clit, a silent plea for him to continue.

“Greedy,” he chuckled. You gasped loudly as he took your clit between his lips and sucked. He had two fingers inside you with his other hand holding both of yours flush against your stomach. Anytime you squirmed too much he’d nip the skin connecting your thigh and core. It was only after cumming that the wine took hold, letting you slip into a more relaxed state. He made you cum once more on his tongue, wiping his mouth on your stomach.

He pulled your arms out of your sleeves and rolled you onto your stomach.

“Don’t tell Arno I fucked you. Want my refund.” He grabbed your hips and lifted them up before shoving a pillow between you and the bed. His cock was pressing against your entrance. 

“Mmhmm.” you agreed, wine and exhaustion pulling your eyes closed. 

“Good girl. Just take it.”

You woke up alone. Your clothes laid out on the arm chair. There was no tea, just two pills and a glass of water on the nightstand. You dressed and took your medicine. Your body was stiff and there was an ache between your legs. 

Some half-remembered feeling of his body on top of yours, the slap of his hips against your ass. 

You wobbled your way downstairs, following the smell of coffee and toast. Nikolai was sitting at the head of the dining table, staring at his laptop with a mug in his hand. He was dressed. A steel grey dress shirt, black suit coat and pants. 

“Sit, eat. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” He motioned towards the seat beside him. He’d made you your own toast, no coffee. 

You ate quickly. The rage you’d seen last night was pumping beneath his skin, flooding his veins. You could see it just from how tightly he gripped his mug. You kept one hand clamped between your thighs to hide the shaking. There was a frayed rope somewhere and you had no idea if it was the one holding you up or not. You couldn’t even begin to untangle it from the rest without risk of it snapping. What did he mean by we?

Where would he take you?

“Don’t fight.” He came up behind you and dropped a black hood over your head. You caught your scream in your throat, forcing it to soften into a pathetic whimper. He guided you out of your chair and down the hall. You walked downstairs, a car door opened and you were helped inside, a step up. 

The seats were leather. You reached forward and felt the dashboard in front of you. He buckled you in. 

“Kotenok?” His mouth was by your ear, lips almost touching the fabric. 

“Yes, sir?” Could he hear how scared you were?

“Were you honest with me about this ex boyfriend of yours?” In your lack of vision you pictured his teeth as knives, waiting to dig into you.

“Yes, sir. All of it. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

“Good girl.” The car door slammed shut.

You couldn’t make sense of where he was taking you. You knew it wasn’t the club. He turned left instead of right at the end of the road. You were headed further into the industrial district, filled with no descript warehouses. 

He parked eventually. You listened to him get out and talk to someone outside the car in Russian. Your door opened and he helped you out.

“You just sit and look pretty, okay? Just some business and I’ll send you home.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and held you close as he led you into the building. 

You were sat in a metal fold out chair and again reminded to stay quiet. He stood behind you, hand under the hood as he played with your hair. 

“Nikolai, what the fuck is this?” Arno yelled, a metal door slamming open. You jumped as metal chair legs dragged against the floor across from you, pained moans coming from the darkness. Nik held the back of your neck firmly. 

“Do I look like a woman, Arno?” Nik asked. 

“What?” Arno sounded drunk, he always did but he wasn’t hiding it well this time.

“Do I look like a woman?” There was a calmness in his voice that was betrayed by his rings digging into your throat. 

“No. You don’t.”

“Then why do you try to fuck me? I don’t like to be fucked.”

“I didn’t try to fuck you.”

“No, your friend did and you let him. Dima, take the hood off Arno’s friend.” Footsteps and then gagged yelling. Nik pulled the hood off your head. Marcus sat three metres across, naked, gagged, and handcuffed to a chair. His nose had been broken and there was a cut by his eyebrow. His face was bloodied and bruised, all fresh wounds. Your toes curled in your shoes while goosebumps raced up your arms and back. “Do you think I look like a woman?”

Marcus shook his head violently. The tears forming in his eyes didn’t make you feel as good as you would have thought. The air in the building smelled like piss, mildew and harsh chemicals. It made your stomach churn, toast climbing its way back up. 

“Nikolai. I…I told you I was sorry. I didn’t know he tossed her around before… if I had known.” Arno pleaded.

“You should have never sent me damaged product. Look at her. I don’t want to fuck that!” He pulled your head back till you cried out in pain. “If I wanted her weeping and bloody I would have done it myself.”

“I… I didn’t know.”

“Because you’re a shit business man. Can’t keep track of your drink, can’t keep track of your girls, can’t keep track of this pedik!” He spat at Marcus. “I pay good money to have a pretty girl sent over to suck my cock. I’ve never tried to swindle you so why do you think you can fuck me over like this?”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch her. Your money is being sent back. Two days at most. I swear.”

“And what about my time? I don’t get many days off. Instead of fucking I had to listen to her cry. Is he going to suck my cock?” He motioned towards Marcus who shook his head again. 

“Next time is on the house…next two times. We appreciate your business Nik.”

“We’re not friends. You don’t call me Nik.”

“Mr. Andreev, we appreciate your business. I don’t…I don’t even fucking like him.” Marcus looked up in fear, cursing through the gag. “You can do whatever you want. Torture, fuck, kill. He’s yours. He’s a cunt.”

“Fine.” Nik’s hand left your neck. There was a click and the barrel of a handgun brushed against your cheek. Marcus started screaming. “Cover your ears, Kotenok.”

You clamped your hands over your ears. You wanted to close your eyes but the way Nik looked down at you knew he wanted you to watch. Nik took three steps and fired.

Marcus screamed as the bullet landed between his legs. There was too much blood to see where the bullet entered but it was gory viscera. You threw up your toast onto the floor between your feet. Nik tutted at you and pushed you back into the chair. You felt a deep shame in your weakness. Arno was cursing. The man you guessed was Dima, looked bored. 

Nik gave Dima a nod and he pulled Marcus’s gag off.

“You fucking cunt! I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you.” Marcus screamed. Nik laughed. 

“No, you won’t. You can’t even piss properly anymore.”

Marcus lifted his head to glare at you. You leaned back in your chair, the metal scraping the floor as you tried to inch away. 

“You fucking cunt! You stupid fucking bitch! I should have killed you years ago! You spoiled little whore” His blood was pooling around his feet and his skin grew grey yet he still had time and wherewithal to threaten you. “I hope he fucking kills you. He will! You think you’re safe snitching on me? He’ll do worse than I ever could.”

Nik moved back to stand behind you, resting his free hand on your shoulder. Arno was hissing for Marcus to shut up. Vomit still burnt your tongue. 

“I respected you once! Now you pay for pussy. I don’t pay for pussy! If I want to fuck my girlfriend, I’ll just fuck her. How much do you pay for her? Stupid cunt!”

Nik chuckled. 

“I don’t want your fucking respect, chmo.” Nik put his gun back into the holster on his hip. “Respect from pigs does little when they get hungry. You are a pig. Dima, gag him again.”

He turned towards Arno, who was still standing slack jawed at the scene in front of him.

“Arno? Does your father know you have pigs working for you? Does he know how you run his business?”

“Wh…what?”

“Does he know you’re too high to find your own fucking feet?”

“No..No… he doesn't.” Arno looked at his feet like a little boy. It disgusted you. 

“You want it to stay that way, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Kill him.” Nik nodded towards Marcus. Marcus started yelling through the gag again. 

“I…I…No. I won’t do that. You can’t-”

“I can do whatever I want. You do it or I do.” There was a roaring in your ears. Stomach bile was climbing up your throat to join your toast on the floor. Arno was arguing with Nik who was calm as ever. Nik’s hand left your shoulder and you found yourself rising out of your chair and running. Nik clicked his tongue and before you could make it to the door, Dima had his arms around your waist. He was bigger than Nik. Your fists hit against his arms as you screamed and cried. “Have to do everything myself. Hold her in her fucking seat!”

Dima dropped you back in the chair and held you still. Nik had pulled two brass knuckles out of his pockets. He was walking towards you. 

“Please Kolya! Don’t! Please!” Snot and spit mixed together on your face. 

“You were being so good.” He rubbed the metal against your cheek, smirking when you shrinked away. “Now watch me.”

Dima held your head forward as Nik stalked over to Marcus. Arno was sitting on the floor, arms resting on his knees, no light in his eyes. There was no shame in his face, no regret for getting his friend killed, just a child’s disappointment that he’d been caught. 

You gasped as Nik’s fist collided with Marcus' jaw. His gag knocked loose followed by a spray of teeth and blood. Nik used him as a punching bag. You flinched at every crack of bone and scream of pain. He punched and punched till Marcus was coughing up blood and his chin rested on his chest. 

Nik pulled him up by the hair and whispered something with a chuckle. He punched Marcus in the nose and then again and again and again and again and again. His face caved in. Nik punched till there was no face, just a bloody clump of flesh and teeth and bone. To your horror, it moved as Marcus’s last breaths came out. Nik kicked his chair over. 

“Send me a new girl. Red head. Need to fuck something now.” He looked at you and shook his head. You’d thrown up again, it was covering your front. Snot was dried down to your chin. You never looked away. 

Dima let go of you and followed Nik out of the building. 

“Fuuuuuuucccccckkkkkk.” Arno sighed, hands in head. “My dad is going to fucking kill me.”

[bombuni]

contains: mean dom jongho x sub reader, kinda humiliation, kinda voyeurism, name-calling, guys i need him to yell and be mean to me so bad

minors dni

“You never listen.”

You attempt to scoot closer to Jongho as you kneel in front of him, his cologne still infiltrating your senses and clouding your thoughts. Even as he berates you for being a brat and annoying him to no end, he’s elegant. He holds your head up by your hair to make sure your eyes are focused on him, tugging every time he sees your eyes wander to his lap in front of you.

As much as he complains and punishes you, he likes your brattiness. He thinks it’s fun how you try to win again and again, even though you know exactly how it’ll end every time. With you crying and begging for mercy, asking for whatever punishment he sees fit. Your desperate pleas are so cute to him.

Jongho sighs as if his patience is at an end and lets go do your hair, “Take off my belt.”

You look up at him with a dumb look on your face and he challenges you with a raised brow, “Did you hear me? Take ‘em off, cockslut.”

Your eyes well up with tears at his words, but your hands still ache to grab him and make him feel good. The flurry of emotions is frustrating, “D-don’t call me that…”

He smirks down at you, alluring and intimidating but still your Jongho, “It’s what you are, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been sending me all those videos while I was at work. Cause you’re a cockslut.”

Jongho unbuckles his belt before bringing his pants down. He’s stiff and so fucking picturesque as pre-cum drips down the front of his boxers. The bulge in front of your eyes is already making you soak the carpet below you, but he grabs his cock and starts palming himself, excited by the sight of your pretty eyes leaking tears just for him.

“Shit…you wanna suck this cock, don’t you?”

You nod dumbly, hands twitching and moving towards him. You’re surprised when he tuts at you, bringing you to a stop as he removes his boxers and lets his cock spring free. It’s so pretty and chubby, leaking all over itself and you’re practically salivating at the sight before you.

He grabs his cock, firmly gripping the base before he starts jerking off right in front of you. The pre-cum makes it so easy for his hand to glide over himself as he keeps his hand moving with his eyes focused on you. Jongho grasps your chin, pulling your mouth open roughly and pushing onto your tongue with his thumb. He plans to keep you open and waiting for him.

He grunts through his motions, “You’re gonna sit there until I finish. Then you can show me how bad you want this cock, do you understand?”

Your bratty attitude breaks free at the sound of this, whiny voice calling out, “Jongho, no…”

Jongho drags his hand down to your tit, pulling it out of your tank top and tugging at your nipple as a deep groan reverberates through him, “Shut up. Keep your mouth open.”

You do as you’re told for once, satiated by the feeling of his hand toying with you as you can do nothing but sit there and let him. You enjoy being his little doll, to be used as he pleases. He keeps going, his hand moving faster as you play with your tits for him. Your mouth still hangs open in wait for him.

You know the tell-tale signs and sounds when he reaches his climax, you know everything about Jongho. It’s your job. As his groans become louder and deeper and his hand starts stuttering, you lean down and close your eyes as you feel his cum splatter onto your tongue, the salty taste satiating the smallest of tinges in your stomach. You feel a belonging and a pleasure fill you when he reminds you who you belong to.

Jongho drips his last remnants into your mouth with a flushed face and panting breaths, “You look pretty with my cum in your mouth,” you swallow when he finishes, bringing your tongue out again to show him and he smiles sadistically, “You just look pretty being my slut.”

Jongho leans down to press a kiss to your lips, fighting his tongue inside you to remind you who’s in charge. In case you forgot.

bom note: hi..im still here.. still thinking about freaky jongho. recently rewatched my fav movie (secretary 2002 pls watch if u want a good version of 50 shades of grey) and got inspired

[too-deviant]

MDNI 🃏 — W/ PATRICK ZWEIG

when patrick zweig fucks, he fucks hard.

his mind clouds over almost the second you give him those eyes, slide a hand up his leg. his mouth is salivating before you can even suggest going up to your room, or say that it’ll be okay if you’re a few minutes late.

he doesn’t think about much else but you, and where his hands will go on you this time round. he’s a serial tit grabber, but sometimes he’ll pay extra close attention to the plush of your thighs — especially when they’re resting on either side of his face.

he isn’t afraid to bite. he’ll nip at your collarbones, your nipples, your legs. his hands will roam every inch of you before he can even think about going near where you want him the most — but when he finally does?

he is insatiable. always, even when it comes to tennis. he will stop at little. his determination is what makes you go back to him time and time again. even when you shouldn’t.

he’ll eat you out like a crazed lunatic — huffing and grunting into your pussy, hands squeezing your legs as they wrap tighter around him. he’ll pull back, rest his forehead on your lower stomach, and catch his breath before diving right back in. he will leave you a mess — panting and sweating — but he won’t take even a moment before he’s pulling his cock out.

and my god, is it big.

he gives you very little warning before bottoming himself out — he pays minimal attention to anything but your pleasure, only zoning in if he hears a mutter of your allocated safe word.

sometimes, on slower days, he’ll talk to you. from grunting sweet praises into your neck to asking you about your day while you’re spread open for him — it’s rare, but sometimes he just needs to hear your voice.

he peppers your cheeks with kisses, throws your legs over his shoulders, and pistons into you like a well oiled machine that won’t let up until it’s done it’s job.

and he does his job. every single time.

and then, after fucking you senseless, he’ll stroke your shaking legs and watch you come down with those lidded eyes of his that just make you want to jump his bones once more.

oh, he will see that look in your eyes, too. and then he’ll tut, give you that sick sick smirk of his, and say, “don’t be overzealous, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”

[kachowden]

ruthless, bloodthirsty yandere Pirate Captain X Prince/ss!Reader, either kidnapped or accidentally ended up on the ship nad now cannot leave

The rope dug into the soft skin of your wrists, leaving angry red trails with each thrash and and strive. Your teeth grit painfully, aching against each other as the sounds of water smashed against the wall behind you.

Salt invaded your senses, your eyes burning from the water that dripped from your head. You sneezed at either the smell of the deep, dark ocean, or the cold of your frozen clothes stuck to your skin.

Your brain fogged over what happened, and your body ached with exhaust, though you hardly halted in yours struggles, not till the heavy steps of boots approached the finely crafted door. A slow rasp of knuckles against the door. Then his god awful voice spoke through.

“Knock, Knock.” You could practically hear his foul smile, before the door was swung open far too aggressively. You winced as it smacked against the wall, shoulders tensing as you bared your teeth.

“You have a lot of nerve.” A weak willed threat to hide the fear that guzzled down your windpipes.

The man cared little, as a hoarse and deep laugh roared from his throat. His accessories, likely stolen, dangled with each step, while he approached.

“You’re a yappy little thing arent ya? Could ‘ere you half way to the port.”

“…We’re docked?” The news visibly shocked you, you hadn’t been on the ship for that long, or so you believed. It surely didn’t feel that long. Was there a port near to your kingdom? One you didn’t know about? Or maybe, this cocky pirate had parked on the other side of the island, believing he had time to get away.

“We haven’t even left yet, doll.” You wanted to spit on him. You hoped he understood that he was the muck on your shoe as you stepped past the pig pens.

“Then you are far more foolish and arrogant then I was originally led to believe. The guards will find me any second! I’ll relish in seeing you hauled to guillotines.”

He tutted, a knowing smile that made your skin crawl and throat go dry, as he stepped passed you, slowly. “I wouldn’t be so sure, your highness…”

“We’ve been here for well over a night. No one’s looking for you.”

Those words made you freeze, eyes widening in disbelief at this pirates audacity. Did he believe you an ignorant fool? To boldly tell such lies to your face?

But then…you don’t know how long you’d actually been here. The sick sway in your stomach made it appear like hours. And you had woken up here too. Was the sky the same sky you had seen before you were taken?

It was the same shade of blue and yet…were those the same clouds? Was it greener now? Had you truly been here for hours? Days?? Had no one come to look for you?!

He watched with a sick grin, teeth sunk deep into a deliciously red apple, as he basked in your inner makings crumbling. Personally, he found your resistance cuter then this..look of hopelessness. But this was needed for your eventual cooperation.

And of course he had lied to you. The kingdom was a muck looking for you at the moment. You were just on the side of your little country that few actually were aware of. A safe space tucked beside the cliff side. A pretty spot.

“What do you want.”

Oh? The little doll wanted his attention.

“Hm? Care to elaborate birdie?”

Your bristled visibly at the name, though the deep breath you let out to calm yourself was in its own right commendable. “What is your purpose for stealing me.”

“Saying I stole you, truly makes you sound like you were someone else’s property prior, doesn’t it?”

When you didn’t respond, he sneered, lips pulled into an unpleasant growl as he stepped towards you again, ringed and rough fingers gripping your jaw, sure to leave a bruise.

“Excuse you-!” You nearly gagged when he popped your mouth open, pushing the bitten half of the apple into your mouth like a swine ready to be roasted. Your tongue curled back as far as it could, fearful of touching the flesh of the fruit your captor had eaten from.

His smile returned, in a disturbing satisfaction as his dark green eyes swept across your form.

Had it not been the circumstances. Had it not been for who he was, you’d think his eyes were beautiful. Such a vibrant shade of green, that shines in the golden light. Like sun filtering through spring leaves.

But because of the circumstances, because of who he was, you likened them more to the color of sewage near an old tavern. The color of floating, rotten seaweed that sticks slimely to your skin. Slimey. That was a good word. His eyes were Slimey. As were his hands, his smile.

A degrading tap against your cheek brought you back to the slime before you. You hated that this filth was pretty. You hated that had it been any other circumstance. You might’ve fancied him.

“Rest up now pet, ‘s gonna be a long journey.” He stood with a low grunt, boots echoing against the wooden floor, as his jewels jingled.

“You didn’t answer my question you filth!” Your words were illegible against the apple, as your jaw had been stretched to the max, making it hard for you to spit it out unless you bit down.

The pirate gave little mind to your attempt, simply humming as if he knew what you said irregardless. “You’ll learn in due time birdie. Not try not to cause a ruckus while I’m gone. I’d hate for the dogs to grow nasty.”

And the door slammed behind him, your heart hammering. You didn’t think he meant actual dogs and that’s what made your crawl to farthest corner could, leaning your bound body against the weathered wood.

Your jaw hurt, your wrist hurt. You were tired, emotionally and mentally. And as the weight of the situation sunk in, you felt yourself slump in momentary defeat, eyes fluttering against your cheeks.

Weak, frustrated tears burned behind your lashes.

You prayed for your safety.

You prayed that someone…anyone was looking for you.

But your heart ached, as if it knew a truth you didn’t want to acknowledge.

No one was coming.

On the far side of the kingdom..

A young knight was causing unfathomable chaos.

“Find them! Find them now! If you are withholding information or if any of you pathetic guards are unable to find even a trace of them, your heads will be on the block along with their disgusting captor!”

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

WICKED.

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

pairing: luke castellan x former camper!reader (godly parent not specified)

summary: even after leaving camp half blood to pursue your dreams of attending university, your loyalty to them has never wavered. that is until you stumbled into luke castellan again, of course.

warnings: mature themes, oral sex (m receiving)

note: a purely self-indulgent fic because i wanted to try my hand at writing smut

Luke Castellan was a wicked man.

An inexplicable thrill ran up her spine as he edged closer. Her mind immediately tried to navigate through the haze of excitement and anticipation before ultimately succumbing. She could not— could never fight against him. Perhaps that was her fatal flaw, her irrefutable and unwavering blindness to who he was.

He caged her against the wall, one of his hands framing her face while the other held his cigarette between nimble fingers. He looked away as he took a long drag. The embers of the lit head glowed a dazzling red— dangerous, mesmerizing, and enticing.

The Luke Castellan that stood in front of her was not the same child who was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood, not the reliable senior counselor who could do no wrong; ultimately, he was vastly different from the person he was all those years ago. He was a man now— pristine yet still gruff around the edges, jaded, resentful, proud, and haughty.

You closed your eyes to breathe in the smoke as he exhaled. He made it so easy to prevent you from ever reconciling the truth of his identity, to accept that he was still the same boy who betrayed everyone around him in cold blood because he was too clouded by anger at the gods to do otherwise.

“How do you want it?” He whispered against your ear. You averted his gaze to him, and watched from your peripheral as he nuzzled your hair. The tip of his nose dragged along the warmth of the skin of your neck.

“Rough.” You responded without a moment of hesitation. Your hands grasped the open edges of his jacket, the leather material was smooth and malleable against your nearly frozen fingers.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked up at you. You saw the surprise in his stare, the want and desire hidden beneath the unreadable sheen of his eyes. His hand traveled up your skirt to your thigh. He rubbed gentle circles against your skin then stopped short at the curve of your ass. He squeezed at the fat then smirked when you flinched.

“Is that what you got up to when you left camp, hm?” He asked softly. He was taunting you. His fingers pulled at the edge of your panties. “Learned to be a slut. Is that it?”

You said nothing. You clutched him tighter when he traced the slit of your cunt through the fabric of your underwear. He followed up and down motions, the movements too miniscule yet the pressure enough to elicit a reaction out of you.

“Already so wet.” He whistled, impressed and amused by how quickly you responded to his advances. You bristled when the tip of his finger pressed into your hole. It was subtle, not enough to latch onto. “Tell me, is this all for me?”

You felt your muscles clench around nothing. You were all the more desperate to feel Luke against you, inside you, to let him have his way with you. You whimpered when he smacked you across the ass.

“Answer me when I ask you a question.” He tutted as he massaged the skin to ease the ruddiness. “Are you wet for me?”

“Yes.” You nodded your head with a small pathetic whimper. “Only for you.”

“Good girl.” He said. He moved his palm to rest against her inner thigh. His thumb continued to press against you. His other hand moved to your hip. “Take your shirt off.”

You quickly unhooked the buttons of your top. Luke’s eyes followed your movements, enraptured by your compliance. He chuckled when he saw the brassiere you were wearing— the little ribbon in between your breasts made it seem as if you were presenting yourself as a gift for him.

You felt another sharp slap across your bottom. “You’re just begging to be fucked, aren’t you?”

You gasped at the pain. You felt simultaneously pissed yet aroused by his comments, although you were completely aware that the former should’ve consumed you whole. You glared at him. “And you’re just proving you can’t, aren’t you?”

You saw his jaw tick in irritation. Luke stood at his full height, the difference between your statures suddenly all the more obvious. He looked down at you, his eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted. You felt something loom at the pit of your stomach— it wasn’t fear.

“You like it rough? Fine, you’ll take it rough.” His voice was deeper and more aggressive, commanding in a sense. “Get on your fucking knees.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You touched the ground to steady yourself then leaned against your haunches to wait for his instructions. You kneeled before him as if you were about to pray to the gods. Sadly, you weren't about to worship any of them for the timebeing.

“Open your mouth.” He said as he undid the buckle of his belt. The metal clung against the wall. You watched with pupils dilated in lust as he pulled his cock out— the tip swollen and glistening. He pushed it into your mouth, and you whimpered at the sudden intrusion. “Suck.”

You circled your tongue over the flesh of his cock. You teased and licked at the precum, relished in the salty and deep taste of him. You opened your mouth wider to accommodate for his size then immediately began to hollow your cheeks.

“That’s it. Take it.” Luke groaned above you. His hand wrapped around your head. He controlled your movements by each pull of your hair. He pushed you against him without restraint. “Fuck. So obedient.”

“Wonder what Chiron would say if he saw his precious golden girl being a complete slut for me.” He taunted further. His palm dug against the corner of your neck.

The complete silence of the quiet night was marred by the sinful sounds the both of you were making, hidden in an abandoned alleyway between a Brooklyn nightclub and an electronics shop.

You gagged as he pushed himself deeper into the back of your throat. Your fingers found their purchase on his thighs, your hands grabbed at him like a lifeline. You gaze at him through lidded eyes. You trilled in delight at the sight of him: head thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and his tongue licked at the corner of his lips.

Luke gasped breathlessly as you began to move up and down. He pried his eyes open to peek down at you. He smirked. His words were chopped as he spoke. “So perfect when you’re like this.”

Fueled by lust, bravery and foolishness, you willingly took more of him into your mouth. Your nose hit the base of his cock. You inhaled the heady scent of him, invigorated by it. You choked as you adjusted to the new angle, but he canted his hips instantly. His breaths were ragged and his movements were desperate.

“Ah, shit.” He mumbled. His hand still grasped the back of your head; he pulled you in closer. “I’m close. Gonna come in your mouth and you’re gonna fucking take it.”

He continued to curse and babble as he rutted into your mouth. You closed your eyes as you took in the sensation, as you felt every vein and the ridges of his flesh flush on the flat of your tongue. You felt your own slick trickle down your thighs; empty, uncomfortable and wretched.

He tensed and stilled underneath you. A slew of warm liquid flowed into your throat. You maintained eye contact with him as you swallowed every last bit.

Luke slid himself out of you, his mouth hung open as he tried to catch his breath. He huffed as you made a show of licking off the remnants of his spend from the corners of your lips.

His thumb caressed your cheek. The gesture almost seemed affectionate were it not for the words that quickly followed it. “I’m gonna take you home then I’m going to fuck you all night long.”

Luke Castellan was a wicked man.

[eccentricallygothic]

The Farmer's Bidding

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You. 

Description: Days when you're irrationally needy are Arthur's favorite. Because it is then you willingly do all his depraved bidding.

Part 2 to this but you can probably read it as is.

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), dark!Arthur, house wife kink, denial, torture, begging, degradation, humiliation, brat taming, nipple biting, kissing, unprotected sex, dick riding, sex pollen, forced marriage, enemies to fuckers, one spank, Arthur calling your hole pussy once just because he is a condescending asshole. Minors do not interact.

Type: Request (anon), here.

.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur had taken notice of your altered behavior the moment you had walked into the small dining area that was a few steps away from the kitchen this very morning, pot in hand that you had placed on its stand in the middle of the table before serving him his breakfast. 

Unlike your usual hateful self, today was one of those such days where you could not resist your husband. Could you really be blamed though? When he sat on a chair with his legs spread in the most manly manner possible, focused on what he was doing while his mouth released clouds of smoke every now and then? 

No, you reckoned not. 

So you had been availing every possible chance since this morning to brush past him, rub against him, linger over him and just make any physical contact that you could manage to get him to react. 

But Arthur had chosen to bite back his amused smirk while he had pretended not to notice you nearly whining out loud because of his faux obliviousness to your advances. Instead, he would continue to suck on his cigar and write away in his journal until you became so frustrated that you ‘accidentally’ tripped over your own feet in such a way that you landed right in his lap. 

The next few moments had been a fleeting blur. Your brain had only caught on when you were pouting and whining while sinking down on your husband's stiff shaft. 

But Arthur wouldn't be Arthur without his teasing. And so his rough and scarred hands restrained your hips tightly in place once you were resting on his balls, his grip thus disallowing you from creating the friction you so desperately craved.

“Now, how about this, baby?” His words were guttural and so they added to the heat between your legs. “You act like you’re better than all this mess…” You grunted as your nails dug into the hard skin of his manly shoulders. But Arthur did not relent. Your hole clenched and unclenched to try and aid itself in the discomfort it felt. “Ya act like you’re too good for me…” You whimpered as your forehead collapsed against his. Arthur’s darkened eyes stared into yours. “But I don’t pay you no mind for just half a day… and you turn into a silly lil’ critter…” Your face was already ablaze, but his words did not fail to add more warmth to it. 

They never did.

You still refused to speak hence openly admit your harlotry and stubbornly tried to rock yourself against him once more. He heavily chuckled and it sent shivers down your spine and up where your bodies connected. 

“Hng!” You shivered with a wince. 

“You know what to do, baby” when you whined in response, Arthur tutted you like you were no older than a little baby and leaned in to take a little lick at your nipple. You shuddered as you realized that the upper strings of your apron had been brought loose and your husband had ripped the buttoned opening of your dress so to reveal your chest to him. 

“N- No…” You tried to stand your ground. 

Arthur had once told you that he liked the fighting bit the most. 

Because crushing your pride and getting you to admit that you were his little slut so he would fuck you harder was what it was about. 

“Yeah, baby?” His voice was soft and playful. But you knew better than to take it lightheartedly.

You could see it clear as day in his lust clouded eyes. 

He had taken it as a challenge.

Arthur twirled his hot tongue around your erect nub, creeping one hand down to your privates and giving a good caress to them, his long fingers somehow reaching every crevice and bump.

“Ah!” Your back arched and the muscles in your thighs began to twitch when the rough stubble of his face began to drag itself towards your neck, his balmy lips finding their chapped way to your throat before he pressed a soft kiss to your sensitive skin.

You whined again, feeling your face scrunch in a pleading manner as you twisted and writhed, desperate to move your hips. Arthur knew just the way to kiss your neck. The amount of lip, tongue and teeth he put in each time he did it tightened your loins in a way that deprived you of your rational faculties and made you do whatever depraved bidding of his that he desired. 

“I know, baby, I know” he cooed with faux sympathy while he stroked your intimates in such a torturous manner that it added to your need but was not enough to satisfy it, his mouth sucking the marks of his ownership into your delicate skin. “And ya know how to help yourself here. You know the words, remember? I taught ya them myself” you cried out helplessly, on the verge of sobbing as you gave one last push to your weak knees so to rebel against the ironhold he had on your waist.

But strength had never been a debatable factor between Arthur and you.

“Please, hubby, please!” You caved in at last, pouting as you felt the words scald your tongue. “Please, fuck me! Please!” 

Arthur chuckled and the vibrations that sent up your seeping walls nearly made your head spin. “Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?” And the cruel hand that had been holding you back was finally let up, causing your hole to almost swallow his heavy sack. “Now fuck that cute lil’ pussy silly on my cock.” A harsh crack of his fingers against your ass set you obediently into motion. 

.

[c0smiclatt3]

DAN HENG: TELLTALE HEART.

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: sfw, fake dating, friends to lovers, mentions and descriptions of blood, death/burial, and war, this could really just be its own fully blown fic idk what im doing here, this is definitely the start of ~something~ i just dont know what

wc: 2.2k

Dan Heng should have retaliated harder when Himeko had suggested this idea in the first place, but he made his stance very clear: he wasn’t cut out for this type of mission and it would likely end badly. But Himeko had only giggled from behind her teacup as she lifted it to her lips, the passing star systems twinkling mischievously behind her like the glimmer in her eye.

“Loosen up a little, Dan Heng,” she almost seemed to sing. “It would do you some good.”

“Surely you and Welt—“ But Himeko cut him off with an almost motherly tut. Dan Heng raked his mind for alternatives, but he worked with the data bank long enough to know this much: the Queen of this planet, a devotee of the fallen Idrila, had lived for a long, long time and had developed an almost perverse interest in the love affairs of humans to pass the eons. After all, what more ridiculous premise in the face of the endless onslaught of time and her immortality than some false promise of ‘forever’? Yes, human love was dramatic - and amusingly pointless. And the Queen revelled in it. Relished in it. Once upon a time the search for Beautiful Love was her devotion to her Aeon, a gift bestowed to her by Idrila themselves: to sustain herself with the heartbeats of her planet's people. For every heartbeat on the planet to resonate through her. The Beautiful Love, then, was something she too would know when she found it. But with the death of her God her mission was but an aimless pastime.

So Himeko and Welt, like two scheming parents, sent you and Dan Heng down to win her graces and grant you two access to the elusive secrets of her court. The goal was simple: put on a show. And make it good.

The two of you had been travelling alongside one another on the Express for a while, but as far as you both were concerned, nothing that would help this mission at all existed between you two. To be sure, you were friends, but that was about all there was to it. If anything, there was an almost brotherly feeling you got from Dan Heng, like a sibling eternally fussing over you or irritated by you or exasperated by you or all of the above all at once. You joined the Express crew before March. Dan Heng had already been there, and so you were his first companion closer to his age.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

When you joined the Express they picked you up from a war-torn planet, one of the only survivors and cowering in a corner of a ruin. Dan Heng remembers a fear in your wild eyes unlike anything he could comprehend. When you lifted your head you looked like prey meeting the eyes of the hunter, and you were ready to run. He remembers your hair matted in blood — whether your own or somebody else’s he couldn’t say, nor did he want to ask. He found you huddled with your knees to your chest. He remembers the way you feebly sprang from under the crumbling brick pile you called a ‘shelter’ and swung a glass shard at him like your life depended on it — perhaps in another situation it really did. Fresh blood poured down from your palm as the shard dug into your skin, your fist closing tighter and tighter around it, but you were running on pure adrenaline and fear. He ducked effortlessly as you cried out, either in fear or to muster the last of the strength left in your malnourished body. He grabbed your wrist, so brittle and weathered away by Gods-know-how-long you’d been on your own he almost feared he broke it. He could feel your hammering pulse in your wrist.

“Hey, hey,” he said, softer than anything he’d said before in his life. “You’re okay.”

Those eyes - gray like storming clouds, gray like the sky before it opened up to rain down fresh water, falling from the sky like liquid nectar from the gods, your mouth opening to drink what little you could gather. You didn't even realize you had been caught in a trance until he spoke again.

"Are you alone?"

If this stranger was your only hope you would take your chances. Before you could even open your mouth, the next thing you did was crumple to the ground and you fell with a soft thud. What you remembered after that was waking up on the Express, and those steely gray eyes you put your trust in peering at you over the infirmary bed, the infirmary lights so bright you took a moment to adjust.

"Do you remember your name?" he asked. You tried to form the syllables on your tongue but they only sat there, heavy and unmoving. A reminder of an identity that hurt too much to remember. Your mother calling you downstairs for breakfast. The children waving cheerily to you on the streets on your way out for the day. The old shopkeeper down the street in the evenings sneaking you a free sweet through the window to reward you for a long day's work. My name... You swallowed and shook your head. From across the room Welt smiled softly in encouragement more so than amusement.

"That works just fine. Namelessness is quite on-brand for us anyway."

You turn to look at your reflection in the medical equipment to your side. What you were greeted with was your entire face wrapped in bandages, wound over your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your chin, something like the burial rituals performed on corpses back home. The sight horrified you as you reached up to try to claw the bandages off. Dan Heng reached for your wrist again.

"Don't. It'll only make it worse."

He pitied you. He really did. To be taken from such extreme circumstances and slowly coming to your senses like this, you were like a caged animal cowering back against a corner. Like each time he drew near you would hiss and retreat or snap back at him.

There was no use trying not to cry. This young man had already seen you at your worst. You hung your head low as he held your wrist and wept and wept and wept.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

The Express gave you a purpose, and Gods knew you needed one. You joined without a second thought, and it took months for you to regain some semblance of normalcy. You slowly crawled out of your shell. Pom Pom was too strange for you to get used to. Welt and Himeko, as nurturing as they were, were always a bit too keen to converse for your comfort.

Dan Heng was different. He let you sit in the same room as him without a need to talk. Your afternoons were spent in mutual but comfortable silence. The clicking of keys. Tapping of tablets. The occasional shuffling as he rolls his chair across the room to reach for a book. On days like these you huddled in a corner on a cushion, knees to your chest and a book in your lap. The next morning there would be a new book or two on your stack you didn't recognize from the evening before - a silent recommendation left behind by Dan Heng after noticing the books you seemed to take a liking to. Neither of you acknowledged this, only keeping to your routine.

When you lifted your head as he pulled something up on a data bank screen he always noticed and promptly explained what it was before ducking his head back down. Some rare plant species. Photographs of a temple on a faraway planet. He filled your head with knowledge of the cosmos, and it was amazing to you how boundless the universe really was, imagining that all this was just beyond you during those days on your home planet. He would be lying if he said he didn't find the little shine in your eyes endearing when you listened to him, and he appreciated finally having someone to talk to.

Considering all the records burned with your home planet, there was little Dan Heng knew about you. That was their business on your planet, really: to retrieve some lost records and fill in some blanks, but all they were able to recover was you. Welt and Himeko encouraged him to talk to you as a means to perhaps procure something productive. That was his work after all: collect, transcribe, record. It had always been a routine to him before, but with you it was something different. Watching you, Dan Heng saw the life and death of your planet in your every breath, your every sleep and wake. With your room beside his, he would hear how you cried in your sleep on occasion, tossing and turning and groaning names you wouldn't recall when you woke again. On occasion he pressed his ear to his wall, wondering if he should at the very least knock on your door. By the time he worked up the energy and the resolve, your nightmares grew less frequent.

This much he salvaged from your dazed mumblings: your homeland fell, and when it burned it blazed. And while it did, the Aeons watched it flicker away like another star among billions. You listened to his stories. You used them to replace all that you left behind you. Quiet nodding turned into soft “what’s that?”s, which turned into sneaking a snack in the corner, which turned into the two of you tussling as he tried to shove you out of the room (“Crumbs! They'll get all over the books!” he huffed. “No!” you protested, kicking and yelping until Himeko arrived to put a stop to it), which turned into you stepping into full-on mischief, some ghost of what you had before everything changed. March’s arrival didn’t help much, and soon Dan Heng took it upon himself to wrangle the two youngest (?) members of the Express crew. In a sort of way you two grew up together. In that sort of way, Dan Heng was fond of you.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

So when invited before the Queen you two bowed and you let Dan Heng do the talking, spinning the tale as effortlessly as he spun the stories of the cosmos for you: two outlanders, both faring from different planets, seeking temporary transit as they fared among the stars in search of their pasts together. This much was true. This much was enough to pique her interest. In her territory she could feel the thrumming of your heartbeats, and in her romanticism failed to detect that it was the thrill of deception - and not of some budding romance - that explained your quickening pulses. And you two knew each other just well enough to sell it the right way - you just had to keep it up for long enough.

You two knew each other just well enough that on your first day wandering alone in the local village you scouted the area for libraries, reliquaries and ruins. It wasn't until sundown, when you returned with a map marked out with all the locations to hand to him, that you realized you hadn't even considered what you might want to do yourself.

You two knew each other just well enough that when he returned from said libraries as per your recommendation he returned with a novel by an author you liked - an edition they hadn't yet bought for the Express.

And you two knew each other well enough that later that evening he knew exactly what was happening when he woke to hear you crying in your sleep. What you dreamed of, he didn’t know. But he could piece together enough of an idea.

“Hey,” he whispers, slowly sitting up from his mattress on the floor. “Hey…”

With the window curtain open and the moonlight on your face he could see your brows knitting together, the line of your lips curling into a pained expression as you twitched and groaned. For a moment he felt a little awkward, unsure of what to do with his hands, before he got up and walked to his bag. He knew when you had nightmares you wandered the Express train. And he knew when the main cabin was empty you put a particular record on the record player. He tinkered with his earpiece for a moment and inserted them into your ears. Your lips softened into a relaxed smile. He let out a breath and slumped on the floor against the bed frame.

The intention, romantic or platonic, mattered little. What mattered was the quickening and softening of your heartbeats were felt and duly noted, and the Queen invited you two to her ball, your shot at passage to her court. You had been surprised when the invitation came so suddenly. You held the card, embellished in a rose patterning around the edges, signed off with the Queen's curling signature.

"That was a lot faster than I thought it would be," you tilted your head, turning it in your hands. Dan Heng looked at you, sitting on the edge of the bed from across the room. He hid his face away behind his book. Only he had an inkling why this might have happened, but that he would never say.

writing masterlist | bot masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: this started to go somewhere but i ended up hating it so i've just decided this is a prologue for something that might be longer but im just not sure what lol. i just needed to get this out cus it's been sitting in drafts for way too long and the idea of working on it for a minute longer makes me want to curl up and die. i hope u like it tho!

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

The funniest thing about the Trine series is that it’s slightly implied that Blue Jone is always just wearing the little dress robe and little to nothing else. Because I can just see one of the housekeepers coming up to us or Anselm saying “I get that you find him attractive like that, but can you please tell him to put some fucking pants on?”

I AM ABSOLUTELY WHEEZING!

Anselm Vogelweide x Blue Jones x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •  Masterlist•  ao3• want to be tagged? | request info •

•Trine Masterlist•

Summary: Anselm is told an honest truth.

Warnings: references to sexual activities, swearing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 700

It was no secret that Mary was Anselm’s favourite employee. She had been working for him for nearly 18 years and was one of the very few people whose opinion he held in high regard no matter the subject. 

So when she approached him in the billard’s room (which had been sans billiards for some years, yet still kept the name), he had been more than happy to drop what he was doing to speak with her. 

“Mr Vogelweide,” she started with an intake of breath.

“Oh, my dear Mary,” He puts his hands on her shoulders,” this simply must be something serious, because not only have you called me by my family name, but that distressed sigh right after,” he smiles and shakes his head. “Are you handing in your notice?” He pauses a little sadly, “Because I wish you no ill will if you are.” “No, Anselm,” Mary stresses his name and puts a hand over his. “This is about Mr Jones.”

Anselm’s expression falls immediately, a stern look clouding over his eyes. “What has he done? Has he been rude to you? I’ll-”

“No, no, no,” She holds her hands up quickly, “Nothing of the sort, he’s been very polite, very much the gentleman with all my staff.” 

Anselm nods, calming a little.

“This issue is more of a… personal nature. You see… some of my staff,” Anselm opens his mouth to interrupt and Mary gives him a look, “No, I will not tell you who, I’m not having you have a tantrum for no reason.” 

He closes his mouth and smiles broadly. 

She nods when she’s satisfied. “Mr Jones does have a… predisposition for a certain type of attire.”

“A certain type of attire?” Anselm grins.

“Or lack thereof,” Mary smiles back, “Just those silk robes I know you and Mrs Vogelweide gift him with.”

“Oh, I shall have to tell my love that she is in your poor graces as well, calling her Mrs Vogelweide.” Anselm puts a hand on his forehead dramatically and Mary tuts. 

“This is a formal conversation, so I am speaking formally, you know as well as I that I prefer her over you.” 

Anselm beams happily and nods. 

“Now, if we side step your silliness. The point of the matter is Mr Jones wearing those robes, that are, to put it politely, extremely short with nothing else underneath.” 

He nods, waiting for her to continue. 

“I know you both find him very attractive-”

“Do you not, Mary?” 

“You are not too old for a time out, Anselm.” 

“That sounds divine, my dear.” 

Mary tuts, scolding him softly. “I need to prep the staff to expect a practically naked man around the estate.” 

Anselm nods. “You want me to get him to cover up?” 

“I want you to let the staff know if he’ll be in a constant state of undress. Remember the phase you went through, oh 15 years ago? The orgeies almost every night and day, such a mess. But, we knew what was planned, and no one minded or cared, because they knew what to expect. And staff that didn’t feel comfortable, well, there weren’t any because why would they work here if they were? But if they had been, they would have been put on other duties.” 

Anselm nods again, “Concent.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Hmm, I do apologise for this foresight.”

“It’s not a problem.” 

“I will make sure the serving staff all get a bonus this month for the trouble.” 

Mary smiles, “That’s very kind of you.” 

“But tell me…” Anselm pauses, “Why didn’t you approach my wife first? I know you wouldn’t have had to deal with my teasing for that conversation.”

“Oh,” she chuckles, “Well, you see I did.”

Anselm quirks his eyebrow in interest.

“She asked me to ask you while she watches from outside the door,” Mary points to the slightly ajar door behind him. “She wanted to see if your answer was to her satisfaction.” 

“And if it isn’t?” 

You let the door open a little dramatically, smiling when your husband turns to look at you. “Punishment, of course, darling.” 

“Oh,” Anselm runs his hand over his beard, his eyes bright. “How delightful.” 

Thank you for reading!

[agentmarvel]

your boyfriend wants you to see how pretty you are on a day you don’t really feel it.

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

kyle “gaz” garrick x afab!fem!reader 

tags: established relationship, bdsm elements, fingering, squirting, praise, gaz is a good boyfriend

*could be considered dub-con w/ reader’s mental state; discussion and consent are implied but not explicitly stated

♡

kyle “gaz” garrick, who voraciously detests the days your brain is unkind to you. it’s not your fault, he knows that; but he loathes that little voice in your head that degrades you, tarnishes your confidence, makes you question what he sees in you. he’s been stupid in love with you since day one, and no amount of bad brain days will change that.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who tries his hardest to make those days even the slightest bit better. he can see the storm clouds brewing overheard the moment you wake up, so he’ll love on you just that much more to combat the noise.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who feels his heart break just a little when you tell him between sniffles that you don’t feel pretty. you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his goddamn life, and the fact that you can’t see any fraction of that some days makes him want to cry.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who is so horrendously down bad for his girl that he’ll do anything to show you just how fucking pretty he thinks you are.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who waits for that next bad day to sit you down on the bedroom floor. he has you sit between his legs, facing the large, full-length mirror beside the closet. his arms wrap around your waist, chin tucked into the curve of your shoulder as he reassures you that he loves you, all of you, every little part of you. he asks if you need more from him, but you don't quite respond.

kyle “gaz” garrick, whose patience and insistence can only guide him so far down the right path before his sense of self-restraint snaps. that’s how you end up locked in a spreader bar that’s tucked beneath his legs, knees splayed atop his thighs, stripped bare and on display in his lap. you writhe, desperate to look at him, begging for just a little kiss, but his firm grip is locked vise-like around your jaw, forcing you to stay focused on the mirror. 

kyle “gaz” garrick, who starts slow, spreading your puffy, slick folds open with two fingers - ring and index. he demands that you look, asks if you see it now. when you shake your head a little, he taps your clit with his middle finger a couple times, silvery strings of arousal clinging to the grooves of his prints.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who tortures you this way for almost 20 minutes before dipping a finger into your now drooling hole. he’s methodically inconsistent with pace and depth, keeping you guessing. your breathing is ragged, hips twisting as you try to put your thighs together. he laughs, low and almost cruel.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who slips in a second finger without warning, earning a near shriek from his darling girl. you claw at his wrists, pleading so sweetly with him to make you cum. he tuts in your ear, shaking his head as he declines, promising you can have more when you tell him how pretty you are.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who doubles his efforts when your voice turns saccharine - 

“please, ky - oh, fuck! - please!”

- and those dexterous fingers curl up, finding that perfect spot with expert precision. your back bows off his chest, eyes rolling back, your head tipping against his shoulder, and he none-too-gently pulls your face forward again.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who keeps telling you how fucking stunning you look, how pretty his baby is, how much he loves every inch of you. heat rises in your cheeks, he can feel it where your skin is pressed to his, and he asks if you see it, too. you shake your head, brows furrowing under beads of sweat.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who assures you will as he kisses your temple before sliding in a third finger. you let out a gut-punched gasp, grinding against the heel of his palm. you’re salivating, a line of spit puddling behind your lower lip. the pressure he applies tilts your chin down, and the thin stream dribbles out. it lands on your tits, glossy and slick.

“you gonna be a good girl and keep

your eyes on that mirror for me, lovie?”

kyle “gaz” garrick, who awaits your eager nod before releasing your jaw. his fingers withdraw, and he uses both hands to spread you open. fuck, he wants to bury his cock inside you. he wants to watch your perfect cunt struggle to swallow his entire length, lips gripping him for dear life while you sob and beg for more. he wants to ruin you and make you look yourself in the eye the whole time so maybe you’ll see a fraction of what he sees.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who smacks your pretty pussy in triplicate, sharp and stinging. he revels in the actual shriek you let out before stuffing two fingers back into you, finding that spot again automatically.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who rubs your stiff, swollen clit in neat, tight circles. you nearly sob at the contact, the tears pooling along your lashes finally spilling over. it doesn’t take long before you’re hiccuping incomprehensible pleas, delirious with pleasure, begging.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who refuses to let up.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who wants to see his girl squirt.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who won’t fucking stop until you give. him. what. he. wants.

kyle “gaz” garrick, who spits a slew of praise as your filthy little cunt gushes around his fingers. his ears ring with your compelled moans and whines as he drags the orgasm out of you until you’re pleading with him to stop. 

kyle “gaz” garrick, who’s vision blurs a little as he cums untouched.

“tha’s my girl, tha’s my fuckin’ girl,

that’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

kyle “gaz” garrick, who holds your gaze in the reflection. he slows his pace as he gingerly nips at your skin. you’re panting, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. the floor in front of you is soaked, as are kyle’s thighs. he asks you one more time if you see how pretty you look like this, and this time, you nod with a sated smile, adding a hazy “yes, sir”.

[trulyumai]

Personal Space? Never Heard Of Her!

Synopsis: You help the big boss (Jack), with every day tasks. He sees some forms missing from his desk and questions you. Jealousy ensues.

Pairing: Handsome Jack/You

Warnings: Murder (I mean it is Jack)

Available on AO3!

A/N: I know this is kind of a niche fandom, but Ive been obsessed with it recently! Enjoy the reading :)

“-Listen, listen, sweetheart, how many times do we have to go through this?” Jack's voice echoed through his office, you stood there just behind him with a frown marking your face. 

“Jack, I already said-” 

“Ah, ah, Mr. Jack pumpkin Mr,” Turning back to you he wiggled his long finger, tutting you lightly. 

“Mr. Jack,” You bit out, 

“The forms were already submitted. I told you the current marketers already came down for them. 

Squinting at you he plopped down on his chair, it groaned in protest as his heeled dress shoes rested on the oak desk in front. 

“Careful with that tone. I just like my things organized, is that so bad? I didn't know those shit brains were already on the new prototype,” Idly swinging his pistol it twirled between the man's fingertips, it would have been quite impressive if you weren't already mildly annoyed. 

Crossing your arms, pivoting one hip to touch the table, you relaxed your face. Somewhat afraid of the man, you didn't want to piss him off this early in the day. 

Afterall, you didn't dare think just how many assistants had come before you, shot and maimed  in this very room before you desperately enough took the interview for this (once in a lifetime) job.

The man rambled on, about the new gun designs, “Dumb ass,” bandits and the citizen who unfortunately ran into him this morning. 

“-Filthy fucking guy, how could he not see me coming! I was gonna rip his eyes out but who am I- '' Pausing all his movements halted, until he slowly, oh so slowly faced towards your direction once more. 

With still movements you paused too, wearily eying the man before he finally spoke up. 

“Wait, wait. Hold on, hold on, back up.”

Backing up a step you gripped one wrist with your hand. 

“No not literally you fucking- Your sentence. The researchers?” Frowning you traced back to your prior conversation 

“Yes, sir. The um, Prototype? They came in early, asked, well, demanded the papers. Said it was urgent.”

Sitting up Jack put both his gloved hands on the desk, gripping the corners until you heard the crinkling of his leather gloves. 

“They came. In my office, and you let them in?” 

Oh no. 

“W-well sir, they said- they demanded me to! Said you gave them special permission, made me walk ahead of them to open the door, and an-” 

A single hand was lifted, halting you to stop the rambling. The glass windows behind him showed the business of the city. Skyscrapers cascaded around the office, the clouds invaded the unusually blue sky and you wanted to run- run and bury yourself between the shiny buildings and fluffy skies. 

“What were these, shall we say, gentlemans names, hm?”

Distracted by the plethora of people on the streets you didn't answer, didn't even notice the man get up from his chair and place himself in front of you until his big hand squeezed the meat around your face. “Answer, pumpkin.” 

“The names? Um, Mordecai- I think and maybe ah-” The grip worsened, with increased pressure you felt the creaking of your jaw, the tightness on your skin. 

“S-Steven! That's it, I'm sure!” 

Eyes darting back and forth between yours he let go, switching to put his arm around your waist. 

“See? Was that so hard! Good job, sweetheart, really, that must have exhausted you,” 

His fingers skirted across your form, until his fingers danced at the hem of the blouse you wore. They lifted it a tad and met the skin with a warm touch, lightly gliding his fingers up down and as he hummed in thought. 

“Pretty sure those are downstairs guys. Let's pay them a visit! See what they have to say about personal space,”

Dragging you along, he pressed the elevator before leaning down on you, putting the side of his head to rest on your own. 

With a cocky expression he noticed your nervous form. “Don't worry, sweetheart- you tell Ol’ Mr. Jack, which one did the demanding and this will all be over soon!” His hand twitched on the opposite side. 

“Maybe we can even get some brunch after, I'm starving.” 

Nodding your head you held back a wince. 

The morning just started and there were already three casualties. 

What a morning in Pandora.