#pegging tw

[minteyeddevil]

“Ease”

Lucifer x Afab!MC, Smut.

“You know you can back out at any time if you want to.”

He gave a wide smirk, using it to hide his nervousness behind it; though he would never admit that. “Might not be the best idea to back out now, considering you already have me on my back, MC.”

Lucifer was splayed out before you, his arms resting behind his head, while you were set between his legs. The fact that he actually agreed to be in this position astounded you; he wasn’t lying when he said he was willing to try about anything you wished, when you wished for it.

Being the Avatar of Pride, he literally prided himself on never bowing down to the whims of anyone he felt was below him; but with the amount of love he held for you, you were surely a different case.

You smiled to yourself, heart beaming that he trusted you as such.

You ran your hands up and down his thighs, feeling them tense underneath your touch. At the apex of his thighs sat his cock, half hard and leaning against his lower stomach, and your hands slowly came up to cup him. You gave him a few small pumps, eliciting a deep groan from him as his cock fully hardened at your touch.

Once satisfied that he was worked up enough that way, you scooted back to grab up the bottle of lubricant you had brought, and placed a generous amount in your palm, coating the silicon member protruding from the harness you were now wearing. You put some extra lubricant on two of your fingers, and scooted closer to him, looking up towards his face before going any further.

“Are you ready for this part?” you asked softly, your other hand gently rubbing his thigh.

Ever the confident one, he nodded; though it was not lost on you that he sucked in a slight breath when your hand moved down. You brought your fingers to his puckered entrance, gently drawing circles. He winced away at first, but with your coaxing, he was able to relax, and allow you to press a finger into him, curling it ever so slightly to begin stretching him. A second finger soon followed and you began to move your fingers in a ‘V’ motion, helping to stretch him further. You pressed in a bit deeper and his breath hitched when you came in contact with something a bit solid and gummy.

Another sharp intake of breath was his response, but he attempted to cover it with a clearing of his throat.

“Found it,” you teased, and despite being breathless from your work, he rolled his eyes at you, giving a deep chuckle.

“Well get it to,” he growled out and you simply smirked at him, pulling your fingers away from his entrance and replaced them with the silicon toy.

“And you call me impatient.”

Another chuckle left him, but the retort in his throat merged into a groan as you slowly began pressing the member into him. He tensed at the intrusion, and you soothed him with a hand on his thigh, the other massaging the tense muscle of his stomach, trying to get him to relax. He sighed through his nose and allowed himself to relax a bit, giving you a small nod to continue.

Once you were pressed into the hilt, a hiss left him through gritted teeth and he bucked his hips almost of their own accord. You figured the tip must be pressed against that sensitive spot of his, and you gave a small roll of your hips.

He groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow, his hips pressing back against your own this time. You continued to move your hips slowly, until you felt his hands gripping your knees.

“Go…go faster…” he whined.

Lucifer…whining?

You gave a small moan of your own at the sound and picked up the pace of your hips. Your hands cupped the back of his thighs, lifting him a bit to adjust the angle, making sure the tip was hitting his prostate directly. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, fighting to hold in the moans that threatened to escape him.

“Let me hear you,” you moaned, hips speeding up further.

He swallowed once more and let out a low groan that dissolved into a growl as he gripped at the bed sheets beneath him. You released one of his legs to free your hand, and wrap it tightly around his cock, pumping it in time with your thrusts.

“Fuck,” he hissed lowly, almost inaudibly, hips bucking more as you continued to fuck him. You took in his black hair clinging to his forehead, chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath; he was absolutely gorgeous.

You teased his tip with each pump, pressing flush against him so that the tip was snug against his prostate. The closer he seemed to get, the more you noticed the change in him, as onyx horns began to sprout from the top of his head, and black feathers spread out around you. His wings seemed to enshrouded you as he legs wrapped around you of their own accord, pulling you as possibly close as he could get you.

He was so close. So very close. And you helped by changing your angle, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making the Avatar of Pride see white.

He let out a deep growl as he came, long white ropes painting his stomach and chest. You continued to milk him through his high, until he was sated, and slowly pulled from him to allow him to relax back on the bed.

You climbed from the bed and walked into the bathroom, removing the harness and returning with a warm towel to clean him up with. He gave a small whine, yet again covering it with a clearing of his throat, when you moved him so his back was pressed to your chest, cuddling him close.

“No need to coddle me. I am perfectly-”

“Oh hush. Let me have this,“ you teased, leaning close to plant a kiss to his temple.

He huffed in mock annoyance, but let his wings rest against you as you held him. He would never admit it, but being the little spoon was definitely something he found himself enjoying.

“I see why you enjoy taking me in that position so much,” you teased openly, making hm turn his head to grimace at you. But he simply huffed and turned in your arms, a hand coming up to cup your cheek as he smirked down at you.

“Oh, I intend to show you why I enjoy it and so much more. So best prepare yourself for round to, where I take the lead.”

[yanderu-deredere]

a/n: decided to do a lil bulleted thing with ayaka abt how she'd meet her darling! it was largely inspired with how @darling--core wrote abt their yanderes honestly loool and ill probably spend the rest of the weekend doing the rest with the rest with my other yanderes. i'll be queuing them all up one after another lmao

warning: gender neutral reader, implied drugging, non consensual picture taking, there's a blurb where ayaka wears a strap but there's no mentions of any reader genitals other than an 'entrance'

ayaka yamato ★ profile

it was honestly like every other night

which, unfortunately, meant ayaka was bored

she was in another one of the handful of mansions they elected to hang out in with her usual crowd of famous instagrammers and 'social influencers'

they were people like her who were rich (be it through their families or through curating their brands) and who each had their own niche part of the internet

ayaka herself found them all interesting at one point in time, but now they all felt like the same old boring person: just another someone trying to please her to get something or another from her

she'd indulge them because they intrigued her, and the thought of being chased and wooed excited her. but after that, it wasn't fun anymore

one of them was gunning for environmental change, which intrigued her at one point, and then, when the two of them got together, ayaka got bored of her and dumped her

then, there was the video game nerd. he was interesting too and what they said about his thumbs was true. but, after they got together, the chase was over and the two of them were over pretty quickly after

it was truly one of the only things ayaka hated about herself

she got bored. fast

it's in one of these gatherings that you met her eye.

you were another one of the hundreds of people there. you might be one of the more popular influencers, amassing your own following of thousands like her. or, maybe, you're one of the hopeful smaller budding accounts. or, even more surprisingly, you might be a plus one who didn't have anything to do with her world

either way, the way you stared at everything around you in wonder made her almost laugh

she was smaller than you, daintier (that wasn't a feat, ayaka tended to be smaller than anyone she knew) and when you looked down at her, she felt her heart skip a beat

that was a good sign

she definitely knew you were her next target. though, how fast she'd get bored of you, only God knew

"Hi, you are?" She spoke to you in that sugary sweet tone of hers and, when you answered and introduced yourself to her, you spoke to her like a regular human being.

She was used to people referring to her with a tone of wonder or excitement, like she was some sort of amusement park ride or painting at a museum rather than a person. At first, it was nice but it got tiring really fast. It was refreshing to be spoken to normally.

You weren't kissing her ass like the rest of the people in the room. It definitely interested her. It seemed that whoever you are, you didn't know who she was and, for some reason, she wanted to keep it that way.

So, when you raised your cute eyebrow, as if to prompt her for her name, she simply licked her lips and smiled coquettishly at you "Aya."

she'd spend the rest of the night pretty much hanging off of your arm and any time anyone gets even close to spilling the tea as to who she is, she'll send them a look that would freeze boiling water

ayaka would mostly try to keep you to herself, get you somewhere secluded, onto a couch where it's just you and her

she'll corner you and just have like a conversation about all of your deepest dreams and your childhoods and stuff right then and there lol

and it gets weirdly close? like a therapy session with strangers?

but she likes it. and she doesn't know why but it's really easy for her to open up to you and its easy for her to let herself be herself around you

she's always had to be someone but, in front of you, she can just be whoever and it feels.... okay

"Yeah, I don't know. It's an Asian family thing, yeah? Dad's always been tough on me especially." She tucks her legs underneath herself and kind of shrugs, her hands tightening around the uncomfortably moist glass in her lap.

For some reason, she's always been able to just put on a mask, shrug of certain emotions, be the bubbly aya.yama persona that everyone loves.

In front of you, it felt harder. She couldn't meet your gaze. She was scared of seeing your expression, of seeing what was there because then her brain would have to calculate what she'd have to do to counter it.

Then, you'd be just like everyone else.

She heard you shuffle forward and, suddenly, your knees were touching. She felt your hand cup her cheek and, suddenly, you were tucking her hair behind her ear.

Ayaka's eyes fluttered, slowly, uncertainly, to you.

There was no judgement on your face. All she saw was acceptance. She saw worry, she saw a small smile, she saw a person who welcomed her with open arms.

"That's really tough. You don't deserve that, especially from a dad."

She was hooked.

after that, she won't be able to leave you alone

of course, as a social influencer, she knows how to act like a normal member of society. however, on the inside, all she wants to do is occupy your every waking thought--

anyway, she'll try her best to exchange contact information with you and schedule the next time the two of you can hang out!

and, of course, if you don't want to exchange contact information with her... well, there's still some way for her to get what she wants!

Ayaka pressed her lips against yours, her smaller hands hurriedly pushing into your clothes, her glittering fingernails leaving harsh marks against your skin.

You groaned against her mouth, pressing back just as firmly, your tongue coming out to lick almost languidly against hers. She tasted like bittersweet artificial strawberry lipstick and alcohol.

You could feel her pussy grind against your knee and then your thigh, her desperate rutting causing you to bump her against the wall.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." She pulled away from you just to mutter those three words before she was at it again except, this time, her lips were at your neck, her teeth grazing your skin and, most likely, leaving marks you'll be seeing the next morning.

One of your hands clenched into a fist against the wall, the other helplessly gripped her waist as your hips haltingly thrust into her hip.

"I don't know where to go." You felt your ears heat as you panicked, your embarrassment overtaking this sudden weird arousal that came from nowhere.

She giggled in that oh-so-very endearing way of hers that made your heart go pitter patter and made your cheeks even hotter "Anywhere is fine. I'll be happy to be anywhere with you."

definitely has a photo of her posing in front of one of those dresser mirrors? (am i going crazy, those exist right?) and then in the background is you, lying unconscious in bed, naked with hickeys and stuff all over you

its obvious what happened

would she use this as blackmail?

no, definitely not! what are you talking about!

yes, she definitely would, she'd do anything so you'd be hers

if you're an influencer, you definitely have less followers than her so she'll use that to her advantage

don't you want to collab? don't you want to appear on her posts? or maybe she'll appear on yours? you'll get so many more followers and subscribers if she helps you out!

if you're not, she can still use her influence a little bit. after all, even if you're not, you still must be involved in that world somehow since you got to that party

you have a friend or someone who's an influencer that invited you there, don't you? and she'll milk that for all it's worth. she'll suddenly collab with them and be seen with them and-- oh! it's you! she saw you at the party that one time, didn't she?

and before you know it, you're seeing her everyhere

weirdly enough, you're even seeing her all over your for you page or all over your explore page

suddenly, you have her followed on all of your social media accounts

all of her content is suddenly a bit more geared towards romance and love and getting that one you love to notice you

and when she finally has you in her arms, when you finally fall for her, she'll feel all the relief in the world when the feelings she has for you doesn't turn into boredom like it always used to

in fact, it felt like the feelings she felt for you only increased tenfold

"I'm so happy." She tittered out, her voice high pitched and her eyes almost crescent moons. She looked down at you almost arrogantly, her hands framing your face, just like how her hair curtained you.

"You're mine now, all mine." She pressed a kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your chin and then your neck and then one right over your chest.

Her hair, which was usually in a high ponytail to the side, was undone tonight and, instead, spread across the bed as she bowed low to press a kiss above your heart, to your stomach, lower and lower, to your thigh, to your knee.

Then, situated between your two thighs, she moved your legs. For such a small thing with dainty little arms and a thin waist, your legs were nothing for her. She wrapped them around her with ease and before she smiled that sickly sweet smile of hers.

"Mine, mine, all mine." She grouns her hips against yours and you could feel the cold plastic of the dildo strapped to her crotch, the poison bright pink of it almost glaring.

The size and shape of it felt so daunting and, it seemed, Ayaka saw in your expression that you were a bit intimidated because she giggled coyly, even going so far as to cover her mouth with her hand.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." She rubbed her hand up and down your leg, her nails scraping against your skin "I prepped you well, didn't I, baby?"

Then, she was moving again, directing the tip to your entrance, pressing it in. Instinctively, your hips raised to try and get rid of it but her free hand pushed you down and, surprisingly, she did it with ease.

The head popped right in and you let out a pained moan. She moaned too, though you weren't sure if it was because of you or if it's because it actually felt good.

Slowly, she inched in, getting closer and closer to the hilt till, finally, the two of you were crotch to crotch, and her face was above yours again, her hair curtaining your head once more.

You felt so full, so absolutely filled to bursting, with nowhere to go. All you could do was lay there and take whatever Ayaka wanted to give you.

"All mine to do with as I please, right, baby?"

[live-from-flaturn]

Listen, I've pegged a man whose beautifully flat 2x4 ass could easily rival Jeff's, and I don't think it was nearly as fun or delightful as y'all expect.

[jellyluchi]

Hold It In

A/N: That one self indulgent pegging and lactation fic 😔 I'm sorry if new followers didn't expect this content, it is what it is.

commissions [open]❤️‍🔥support my work

Word count: 2.7k Pairings: Prosciutto/Focaccia (OC) Warnings: gentle mommy dom, dirty talk, nicknames, pegging, lactation, adult breastfeeding, anal fingering Genre: NSFW Summary: Prosciutto takes gf home and gets fucked deep up the ass and drinks tiddie milk. 

“Prosciutto will be back shortly. He can take you home, I’m sure,” Risotto says rigidly. Sorting the paperwork he just finished, he stood up and nodded towards Focaccia. A sign of farewell. Nodding back, she realizes how awkward it feels to speak to the capo. Despite the good chunk of time she spent with the assassination team, it still feels stifling to interact with the man. But her desire to be better friends doesn’t dwindle knowing how much Prosciutto respects him.

As it so happens, the information she provided for Risotto would be helpful for a hit on some unknown executive which is the job he’s headed to. But one problem still stands. Focaccia can’t drive herself home. All the times her father demanded she learn still come back as fond memories. 

“You want some dinner?” 

She’s taken out of her thoughts by a question from Formaggio. Characteristically, he wears pajamas, and a loose shirt. While it’s not unusual for the member to spend a night or two in the base, the attire seems somewhat out of place for her. 

“No, thanks. But what are you making?” 

“You’re asking an Italian what he’s making for dinner,” he laughs humorously, “don’t be surprised when I say it’s pasta.” 

She giggles for a bit but notices his lingering figure, quietly inquiring her reason to be wandering around. 

“Oh, Prosciutto is picking me up.” 

A smirk passes through his lips. 

“Is he now… Well let me and Pesci know if you need anything else.” 

Focaccia nods, watching the man leave Risotto’s office. She realizes she can’t wait by his desk and opts to sit on his office couch, intrigued by the records of files she no doubt would be killed for looking through.

Suddenly, Formaggio comes back. 

“Don’t have too much fun you two!” He gives a wink to accompany his accusatory assumption but Focaccia only goes red and shoos him away with a dismissive hand.

It doesn’t take long for Prosciutto to come back, and she knows it’s him when she hears him open the living room door rather aggressively. With quite a few of the members busy or sleeping, she notices just how quiet the base can be. 

He looks as though in a hurry to be home when he enters the capo’s office. Focaccia tries her best not to jump off her seat out of eagerness. 

“Hey…” How embarrassing. Sounding like a crushing high school girl when talking to her own boyfriend. She notices his flushed face and wonders if it’s the cold weather or herself that made it so. 

“Hey, I have something for you,” he informs her and she notices the quiet tone.

“Ooo, cake?” 

Biting back a helpless giggle he responds “it’s a bit more than cake, love.” 

Intrigued, she tries to look into the little paper bag he holds. 

“Wait, where’re the others?” 

“I believe Risotto has gone out for work. Pesci and Formaggio are making dinner in the kitchen and I haven’t seen the others since arriving here at six.”

“Okay, good…The capo’s office is best then.” 

Realizing the nature of his reason for discussion is confidential makes her even more eager. 

Gently, he guides her to the sofa, hands shaking slightly from the tension. And Focaccia understands the subject he is trying to talk about must be incredibly personal. Yet, the determined, harsh eyes of his does not lose its steel. Hard and focused, he looks as though he moves with extreme caution and restraint. A level of self-control his body is both used to but does not want to sustain much longer. 

As he takes the bag into his lap, she watches with wide set eyes, breath barely being kept in.  Prosciutto produces a purple dual pleasure dildo and a sharp, involuntary intake of breath is heard from her. 

“Where did you… And this is for me?” 

His tone seems to change immediately, with no prying eyes to interrupt the lovers’ private interaction. 

“Sì Mammina.” 

His soft tone, the gentle whisper of his voice, and the little splashes of red around his cheeks make her oh so endeared. 

“Oh baby… thank you.” She takes his chin by the hand, her long red nails deliciously scratching the side of his face and he instinctively closes his eyes. His submission, by far, is the most beautiful thing she has seen. Not being able to take it any longer she brings his face closer to gently kiss him on the lips as her other hand comes up to rub his thigh in slow motions. 

“And mommy can use it on my baby whenever she wants?”

“…Sì Mammina.”

“Aw, my good baby prince…” The nickname seems to take effect almost instantly. 

Sensing how quickly he’s becoming excited, Focaccia realizes it’s their cue to leave. 

“Let’s go home, baby.” 

Prosciutto clears his throat, the dazed fog on his eyes washing away tto bring back his steely gaze. 

“Yes…Let’s. I’ll tell you about dinner on the way.” 

Their return is rather casual, neither mentioning the illicit toy that Prosciutto brought to work. The man truly does not know how perfect his timing can be. Focaccia knows he can be quite punctual, but sometimes he makes stars align without knowing what he’s making possible. Her memories revert back to a conversation they had a couple months ago. 

During a trip to the grocery store, she’d spotted some particularly delicious looking cookies. Only to realize they’re for lactating. Without picking up the product, she later brought up her findings to Prosciutto.

“Lactating cookies?” He asked, not entirely paying attention. Considering that he rarely likes to be bothered when he’s cooking, it wasn't good timing. However, she thought about how he would think it’s distasteful to talk about their sex life over dinner and go to bed right after, and realized he’s only calm when he’s chopping some peppers. 

“Yes…” she trailed off, trying to sense whether he could understand the nuances of her implications. 

“Is this some convoluted way of revealing you’re pregnant?” Despite his best effort, the slight shake of his voice gave away nervousness. He did NOT like that. 

Focaccia sighs audibly. 

“No, bunny,” she says, dropping the carrot peeler in lieu of walking behind him. The tone seems to have worked as he stops chopping, keen to her every move. 

“Look at me.” She gave him a gentle look of adoration when turned around with those tiger-like eyes. She knew how he could get sometimes. His embarrassment radiated in the heat he emitted, yet her presence seemed to calm him slowly. 

“It would be for you, silly. And I don’t mean the cookies…” 

The revelation brought enough heat to his face that it would not take Fire Woman much to set him ablaze. 

As his hands rest on her waist she looks up at him with mischief in her eyes.

“You wanted to suckle on mommy right, baby? Why don’t we give it a try?” 

It was always a marvel fast Prosciutto loses his voice when at the command of his Mommy. Truly like a small boy, his enthusiastic nod made her giggle and caress her soft cheek. When he leaned into the touch she knew she wanted to protect him no matter what. And give him the world.

Dinner was a little late that night. As the two of them huddled next to the computer trying to find methods of lactation induction. And finally bought a breast pump the next day. 

Focaccia places her pump back into the closet, satisfied that her breasts are heavy and full. She spotted some spurts of white milk on the interior of the pump before cleaning it and placing it back in place. Prosciutto isn’t aware of lactation status just yet and she thinks it would be a wonderful surprise. 

Unsure of his whereabouts, she finds the dual pleasure dildo to disinfect and clean it properly. Perhaps tonight would be quite fast for him but she’s not one known for waiting. 

It’s not uncommon for her to dress up in lovely lingerie to surprise him from time to time, but she keeps her regular shorts and t-shirt, feeling it to be appropriate for a night she’ll spend mostly naked. In fact, she never makes a habit of wearing a bra at home anyway. 

Placing the dildo on the bedside with the lube, she decides to go find it within his apartment. However, he makes himself known when he walks into the bedroom with his closed book in hand. 

“Come for bed?” She asks rather huskily. He must have noticed her placement of the toys nearby, and avoids looking towards the area directly. He makes a show of taking off his t-shirt and pajamas, seemingly to sleep in his boxers. 

He answers stiffly. “No.” 

“I didn’t think so, either.” 

Looking at his perky ass in the gray boxers makes her think of asking something important. 

“Would you like me to wait for you to take a shower?” 

“I already did.” He does not hesitate to reply and stands turned towards her, rigid and with his hands behind his back. Making out the faint outline of his cock, it dawns on her that he’d already prepared for this very moment. And is waiting for his next command. A genuine smirk makes its way to her lips. A lop sided, mischievous smile that does nothing to help his arousal. 

“Are you laying yourself bare for me, baby?” 

But he doesn’t reply, staring flush cheeked back at her as though opening his mouth would only produce sounds unheard of. 

“Go lie on your back,” she says, thinking of the present that he got not only for her, but also for himself. A find like that ought to be rewarded. And reward him she will…

“Good boy, now arms up,” she instructs and he slowly lifts them to rest above his head. “Perfect.” The look of adoration combined with such open praise makes him bite a lip in anticipation. 

“Wait for mommy, she’ll be right back. No touchy, okay?” The sweetness that oozes from her voice adds to the growing bulge in his boxers and he silently nods. It may have taken him time to submit to this degree but every second was absolutely worth it. She watches him from the corner of her eye taking out black strap to attach the dildo and apply a generous amount of lube. 

In the past, they’d used dildos without a second component, making the sensation of wearing this one much, much different to the rest. She could barely resist moaning when making contact with the interior of the toy.

She feels his gaze on herself, wearing nothing but her strap, waiting for her to take him already. So patient. Yet so desperate. She suddenly wishes to hear him whimper.

Making her towards him, she settles between his legs, the shift of the bed making his bugle move enticingly. It’s not uncommon for him to go mute in the face of submission but she knows there’s too much going on in his mind and that he wants release. 

“Wider, baby, wider for mommy…” His thighs part with gentle caresses of her hands, relishing in the view of him spreading eagle for her. Erotic shocks fly up Prosciutto’s spine at the touch. The tip of her strap makes addictive contact on his skin and he almost bucks up for more, but not wanting punishment, holds back. He tries to be so good, so good for his mommy. Nothing makes him happier than hearing her sing praises for him, and only him. 

She gives him a long overdue kiss, a warm push and pull between them that has his breath hitching and legs shaking with impatience. His neglected cock twitches in its still clothed state when she scratches it through the boxers, long nails making small dents on the skin. 

When she finally pulls away he groans louder than usual. 

“Shh… shh, little prince. Settle down.” 

Tender kisses are peppered over his jaw as she takes lubed fingers to insert into him not before swirling them over his entrance in languid circles. It nearly breaks him as he thrusts into her touch desperately, grunting lowly in frustration. 

“It’s okay love, shh…you want mommy to make the ache go away, don’t you?” 

Even while mindless with pleasure, he has the sense to nod at her question eagerly.  She takes off the boxers to find his wet, twitching cock strawberry red at the tip and laying straight against his abdomen. And when she finally enters him, all thought has left, turned to moans that escape his lips in wafts of breath. 

Deeper, and deeper, she reaches the depths he wants only to pull back before he could be satiated. The dissatisfaction makes him want to act out, and bite. But he knows he will be denied the main course if he acts so foolishly. Even when he was young he knew to act correct with his mother to get exactly what he wanted. And mommy is no different…

“Mammina, please… Mammina!” 

“Begging for mommy already… How pathetic. Please what? Use your mouth, sweetheart.” 

Her condescending tone makes him groan and he has to collect his thoughts for a moment. 

“Inside please… Want mommy inside me, please!” The high pitch of his voice his highly uncharacteristic, yet so fitting, Seeing him broken to his bare bones, begging pathetically to be fucked makes her clench.

Without another word, she slowly pushes the freshly lubed strap inside, inch by burning inch. And as Prosciutto’s moans get louder, she only gets more determined. She eats at his mouth to absorb his sounds into herself, raising his legs to go over her shoulder. The deep, slow thrusts have the inside grinding so deliciously on her clitoris she moans into the kiss involuntarily. His cock brushes against her soft stomach wetting it with pre-cum and providing him more stimulation than he’s ready for. 

Focaccia finally releases his lips when feeling the well known wetness on his face. Wanting to witness the beautiful sight of his tears, she hovers over him with only one goal in mind. The angelic fresh droplets of his beautiful eyes meshed with his flushed ruby red cheeks only make her grind harder against the interior. He looks so gorgeous crying out in need of her. 

“Mammina…mammi…” His words blend together to the point of near incoherency, and she starts pumping his cock to help out. 

“C’mon baby, cum for Mammina, she’ll reward you if you do.”

She hits his deepest with each thrust, making it nigh impossible to think and the sensation of her hands on his cock make him descend to madness. Finally, Prosciutto paints himself white all over his chest, panting breaths in succession, tears staining his cheeks in brush strokes. She makes an artwork out of him.

But she doesn’t stop thrusting, grinding against the strap to chase her own, overstimulating him in the process. 

“Good boy. Good baby boy. Sweet little prince,” she coos. “Mammina promised a reward didn’t she?” 

Focaccia barely has to do anything but push her tits to his face, hanging low as though a sweet fruit on a tree and he eagerly takes a nipple into his mouth with a groan. Wordlessly, as if by practiced ease, he starts a tentative suckle only to feel the trickle of liquid in surprise. Lapping at her nipple, he sucks for more while her shallow thrusts make him clench around her strap. 

“All for you, baby, all for you…” She moans when feeling the warmth of his mouth and his playful, clever tongue trying to extract more of her sweetness. She squeezes her other breast for him to mouth to the fresh, milking nipple with a groan. At last, in white, hot bliss, she gushes over the interior of the strap, pulling out of him entirely. Prosciutto releases the nipple with a pop as Focaccia beds to rest her forehead against his. 

With all his inhibitions set free, he takes his arms down to wrap her within himself, panting for breath and trying to regain his thoughts. 

“Love you,” he manages to say between pants. 

Focaccia smiles into his shoulder, giving him a few more kisses. 

“Love you too.” 

[happybird16]

Fucking your fav with a mold of his own cock a-and every time he complains that it's too much -that's it's too big and tight and thick- you just coo softly and teasingly just the way he does when he fucks you silly. It's all him, every inch, every curve, every vein dragging along his sensitive insides. Poor boy can't take what he gives :((( but he looks so good completely fucked out beneath you, sobbing into the pillow and clawing at the sheets

[holylulusworld]

Right there - Kinktober 24

Summary: Your boss gets more than he bargained for…

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!Reader

Warnings: light pegging, implied smut, mentions of a sex orgy, nakedness, degrading language (slut, whore etc.), SB is not a nice guy, but…a good boy,  dominant reader

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Pegging

Words: 888

Idea by: @flory-alexandra

Square filled for @anyfandomkinkbingo: Square 16: “Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.”

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Your boss isn’t the easiest guy to work for, but he always finds a way to fuck your routine up on a daily base. 

Today, he’s up to no good. You just know it. There is something sinister in his eyes, and his smirk is too dark.

“Chop, chop, little lamb,” your boss snaps his fingers. “I don’t want to be late for my first Herogasm in ages.” Soldier Boy claps his hands. “Come on, we need to find you a nice dress and buy more lube.”

“Hero what?” You gape at your boss. He’s not easy to please, and already impatiently jabs his index finger in your chest. “What are you talking about, Sir? I don’t have a Herogasm on my schedule for tonight.”

“I invented it,” he grins and dreamily looks in the distance. “Imagine, all the perfect bodies pleasuring each other. The final is always the best, we all blow our loads on the best whore.”

“What? I’m not…I mean,” you stare at your clipboard, trying to find a note about the Herogasm. “Wait…what do you mean with I need to find a dress?”

“Well, you’re coming with me as my special guest,” he flashes you the dirtiest smirk in the history of dirty smirks. “I’ll enjoy ruining all of your holes, little lamb…”

You’re unsure what’s worse. Wearing a dress barely covering your ass, tits, and…well your most private parts, or the fact that Soldier Boy calls you his whore of the night. 

“Boss, this is not only sexual harassment but uh—” You cover your eyes when one of the so-called heroes gets a dildo shoved up his ass. 

You’re not a prude by all means, but you like to keep your sex life and kinks private. If you are alone with a partner you trust, you can let go and explore all the kinks you always wanted to try.

“Who’s that?” People ask as Soldier Boy parades you around the room filled with people who, well, shamelessly copulate. 

“She’s mine, and a normal little lamb. I want to find out if I can break her cunt,” Soldier Boy chuckles darkly. “I’m going to my room and have fun. Let me get my first load inside her before asking for me to fuck all the ladies and gents needing a good dick.”

“What the fuck!” You curse under your breath while your boss guides you toward a room. “Who do you think you are? I’m not going to let you fuck me!”

“How do you like it?” He already strips his clothes off, shamelessly revealing his throbbing erection. “Up your ass first, or do you love to lick my dick like a popsicle.”

You chuckle darkly. “Oh, sweetness.”

He cocks a brow at your reaction. You put your hands on your hips and stand a little straighter. “I expect you to answer my question.”

Soldier Boy licks his lips as you walk toward him. You glance at all the sex toys, humming as you pass the table to have a look at the breeding bench. “You didn’t get the memo, huh?” You look over your shoulder to flash Soldier Boy a smile. “If I fuck a guy, I’m the one in charge. And, before he gets to stick his dick into any hole, I will conquer his holes first.”

The usually cocky man gapes at you. He drops his eyes to his twitching length. “What do you mean? I’m a master at eating pussy.”

“Aw, you’re so cute,” you coo as you stride toward Soldier Boy. There is something in the way you walk making him swallow thickly. “I want your ass, sweet boy.”

Soldier Boy looks at you, eyes wide, and lips parted.

“Oh, you’d love that, huh?” You grin. “Well, if you want to get a taste of my holes, I’ll conquer yours first.”

His eyes light up, and he eagerly nods. “What will you use?” He grins. “Your finger first? Or one of the dildos…maybe the big one.”

You smirk. Who would’ve thought that Soldier Boy is into pegging?

“Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me. You don’t want me to go in dry, right?”

He grabs your hand and brings your fingers to his mouth. Soldier Boy groans, and his eyes widen. Your fingers taste like your cunt. “You dirty girl fingered your pussy before coming here.”

“It’s ma’am tonight,” you click your tongue. “I want you on that breeding bench, your ass on display. Not talking back or I’ll not give you any.”

“Yes…ma’am,” he hurriedly walks toward the breeding bench. He gets on it, wiggling his ass as he looks over his shoulder. “I like it rough, little lamb.”

“Me too,” you smirk darkly. “You won’t sit properly for a week when I’m done with you.”

He shudders when you lube the fingers of your right hand. You want to hold power over him for tonight, but not hurt him. “Fuck me, ma’am. My ass is all yours.”

“Of course, it’s mine, baby boy,” you slap his cheek, making the powerful supe growl. “Let’s see how well you can behave.”

He moans deeply when you carefully slide your index finger into his arsehole. “Fuck, put it all in, little lamb. I want you to let yourself go, and later…I’ll break your cunt…” 

[thewritersaddictions]

Request: (ST) The Adults- Billy Hargrove : Both Ways

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Curvy!Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, 18+, PinV, Spanking, Assplay, cute nicknames, fluffy smut, dirty talk, Billy Hargrove is an ass man. Like he loves a big jiggly ass.

Summary: Billy trusts you enough to talk about how he wouldn't mind letting you peg him.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 2.3k

Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List p2

Billys hands are bruising your hips as he continues his rapid thrusts. Your knuckles are currently turning white from the death grip you’ve got on the bed frame in front of you. The bedframe hits the wall with each thrust of Billyys hips into yours. Your whole body is glistening with sweat, but Billy won’t let you go until you’re coming around his cock again. 

“Look at this pretty ass.” Billy grunts through his teeth as he shifts on his knees. You’re glad that you and Billy finally made it out of each other parents house, and now have a apartment of your own. Dealing with only the furoius couple on the other side of the wall. The awkward meets in the elevator or at your front doors. You moan at his words, and push your ass back to met his thursts. Billys hand lands on your meaty ass with a heavy slap. The echo of the slap bounces on the bedroom walls, and the sensation has your squeezing him tighter and your moans are turning more like screams of ecstasy. 

Another hard slap lands on your ass. Your ass jiggles from the force of Billy large hand falling down to your plush skin. Even though Billy hands are a little callussed and rough around the edges he still manages to rub sweet circles of comfort into your raw skin. “I can you squeezin’ me. I know you like it when I… fuck… when I slap this delicious ass baby.” Billy grunts out as his hips thursts into your ass with no mercy. Your eyes squeeze shut and even though your mouth opens nothing comes out as you cum around Billy cock. 

Billys thurst start to fall out as he thrusts a few more tiems before filling the condom. He slips out when you fall limp to the soft, and cold mattress. He’s goen for a few moments but it gives you time to gather your breath and self as your role over from your stomach to your back. Billy comes back and its the first time you’ve seen his face since you ended up on your knees and your ass high in the air. In Billys hand he’s got a wet washcloth, he climbs the bed and slots himself betoween your legs. You squirm at the cold feeling between your legs.” Stop fuckin’ squirmin’ so much. Let me be a damn gentleman.” You giggle, and nod your head. The rag gets thrown into the firty laundry bin, and Billy lands down beside you with a plop. 

The silence is comfortable, nothing that the two of you can’t deal with. But something is on the tip of your tongue, and the longer the two of you sit in this silence the harder you fear it’s going to be to tell him. “Billy?” You whisper, the only light coming into the room is from the open window. He hums but he sounds like he’s on the edge of sleep, so you just mutter a sweet “I love you.” Into the night air and curl up beside him a throw blanket at the edge of the bed being used at cover for the night. 

The two of you can talk tomorrow about what you’d like to add to your sex life.

Except the two of you don't get to talk the next day, the next week or even in the next month. Life all of the sudden decides it’s ready to take the both of you for a ride. Billy gets a solid promotion at his job, leading him to not be home most nights. You on the other hand are thriving in your own workforce, being a nurse at such a young age has both its ups and downs. It’s not till a month later and your scheduled date night you are able to actually talk with your boyfriend and see his beautiful face while he’s not sleeping and drooling all over the pillow. 

Billy had called you earlier in the afternoon telling you to come home, get dressed for a night out on the town, and then to go to the only not shitty restaurant in town. Your heels are stead-fast on the hard concrete as you wait for your boyfriend to appear. The waiter brings you to the table, and as you wait you look through the menu. Of course in Billy fashion your thoughts are transplanted the minute that his hands on you. “You look sweetheart.” He murmurs into the shell of your ear and it sends a welcome wave of shivers down your spine. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You comment as he shucks off his dress jacket and sits down in front of you. He smirks and grabs the menu. The rest of the night is amazing. The conversation comes to life after your waiter comes back to take your orders. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” You say, your voice dipping into sadness. Billy looks at you with such adornment, “That may be true, but we still sleep in the same bed.” He offers trying to soften the blow that is your fucked up work schedules. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” You say as you bring the spoon up to your mouth and you can panic behind Billy's eyes. He nods, “Don’t worry it’s nothing bad, at least I don’t think it’s anything bad.” You add, but the fear never leaves the back of Billy's blue eyes. The rest of the dinner is spent talking less, and eating more. Billy picks up the check, and it doesn’t take long before the two of you are jumping into your cars and are driving back home. You both arrive home at the same time, and when you both make it to the front door something slips from Billy's mouth. 

“I want you.” His admission makes you grow hot everywhere. You lean up into his space, a hand cupping his cheek softly as your murmur against his lips. “I want you Billy.” His eyes are filled with lust, and he grabs you by the waist to push you into the apartment. Your lips are feverish, and your hands go in random directions. Trying desperately to get every bit of each other in your hands. Billy's hands are attached to your hips pulling you close to his chest and the tent in his pants. He groans into your mouth, and then he’s kicking the door to close it. 

The back of your knees hit the side of the couch and Billy lets you fall to your back. “God you’re fuckin’ beautiful.” Your cheeks are already hot with lust, but with Billy's words and voice you grow even hotter. Billy throws his shirt across the apartment, his bare chest has you biting your lips between your teeth. With such a long wait Billy doesn’t have too much patience left before he’s falling to his knees between your legs bunching your skirt around your hips. Damp panties are revealed, and you can feel the cocky smirk written all over your boyfriend's face. 

Billy doesn’t let up once his lips are attached to your dripping cunt. You barely manage to get a single breath in as the man between your thighs has his tongue deep in your weeping cunt. Your nails graze his scalp and he groans into your cunt letting you know he likes it. Your legs are open wide making room for the large man, but you can feel your first orgasms rearing its beautiful head. Your spine is lighting up and it's going to come sooner rather than later. Your legs start to shake, and your toes curl under the delicious pressure that is Billy’s tongue. His hands are gripping your thighs so tight that you’re sure you’ll have bruises on his hands there in the morning, but you don’t care as your spine explodes with ecstasy and your head becomes dizzy with over stimulation from Billy's tongue.

It’s only when you start to push Billy away does his tongue and lips leave your sore cunt. Billy’s lips are red, and his eyes are glazed over with lust. His lips are your before you have a chance to catch your breath, and you can taste yourself on him. While the two of you kiss and bite each other's lips Billy's nimble fingers manage to undo the buttons of your dinner blouse leaving you half exposed to him. Between your legs you can feel the raging hard on in his jeans. Billy wraps his arms around your frame lifting you back up into his arms and he shifts slightly and before you know it you're in his lap with his back resting against the firm back of the couch. His hard on pressing perfectly into your wet cunt. You moan at the feeling, and grind into it. Your shirt goes flying and Billy works on your bra as you try to get the damn belt out of the loops of his tight jeans. 

Billy ends up having to help you with his belt but you aren’t waiting much longer because once you’ve got the belt on the floor your hands are digging down into his jeans and boxer to pull out his thick cock. His cock is heavy and hot to the touch, and it has you dripping, wetting the jeans. With his leaky cock sitting between the two of you, Billy is quick to get rid of any other materials in the way. Your lips are warm when Billy takes your face delicately in his hands and brings his lips up to meet yours. Billy swipes his tongue over your lower lip, asking for entrance into your wet mouth, and you let him. There’s no battle for dominance cause you already know where the dominance is. Billy pulls you closer, your clit rubbing ever so slightly over the leaky head of his cock. You both moan into each other mouths, and Billys' hands roam all over your back. 

Your hips are thrust up, and then your ass is groped by your boyfriend. The edge of the couch burns your skin just a little. Your breasts press into the couch cushion, but nothing feels better than the way his cock seethes into your wet cunt. The sounds echo in the living room. You can’t look at Billy, not with how his hand has your head pushed into the cushion. Your feet dangle off the side as Billy thrusts start slow, and then he rapidly picks up speed. Skin slapping and the wet noises are making your head so clouded with lust. 

Your breath is taken away when Billy’s thrust picks up speed. “Fuck!’ Billy groans out with pleasure as he continues to fuck you at an unforgiving pace. Nothing else mattress besides the feeling of his hands on your hips and the way his hip bones meet yours. His fingers are digging into the plush flesh around your hips. Your hips rock back, Billy’s hand moves from your hip to your back, pressing your spine down. With this new position, everything feels better. It feels like Billy is ripping you apart, and that feeling is completely altered. 

You feel the smallest press of his thumb. “Oh!” You shriek, The longer Billy’s thumb presses into your hole, the more everything feels like your body is on fire. “You like that, don’t you?” Billy asks as you feel cold wetness fall to your hot flesh. The two of you had never talked about assplay before, but the more Billy pressed his thumb into your aching hole, the more you couldn’t give a shit. His thrusts haven’t lost their power, so you let him continue to play with your body however he sees fit. You feel your orgasms start to build up. Your spine is hot, and the bubble boiling over the edge before exploding. Your legs are coated in your slick, and Billy isn’t far behind you with hit hips snapping into yours. Billy grunts his hold on you, getting tighter by the second. He finishes deep inside of you, watching it come pouring out when he pulls out with a hiss from your lips. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you just yet,” Billy says with a promise. He picks you up gently and walks the both of you towards your bedroom. He places you on top of the mattress with ease, and then he’s on top of you. Billy’s long blonde hair tickles your hot skin, but his kisses cool it. Your arms are hanging lazily over his shoulders. Your lips are pressed together for what feels like forever, but then Billy is slipping back into your wet hole. You hum with satisfaction and moan when his long rough fingers come down to play with your clit. “FUCK!” You scream, and your head rolls back into the pillow. “That’s it, good girl.” He mutters into the hot air; your blunt nails fall down his back, leaving red marks in their wake, but Billy doesn’t care he’ll wear them with pride all over town. 

Your hand holds onto Billy’s ass, keeping his short but fast thrust close to you. Skin slaps, and you love the sound as your fingers dig into the soft flesh of his ass. You aren’t sure why you do it, but your hand lifts, and you slap the flesh of his ass. Billy’s thrust pauses his eyes are unreadable. But there’s a tinge of red filtering onto his features. No words are spoken between the two of you, but when you slap his ass again, you feel his thrust pick up in speed and his cock twitch in your cunt. “Oh fuck, Billy,” You mutter biting hard down on your lip. With every slap, his thrusts are harder, and he feels thicker in your tight hole. 

His grunts sound like heaven to your ears, and when he rests his head on your shoulder, you know you’ve found something that this rugged man loves. “Say it, Billy.” “Say what?” He grunts, “Say you like when I slap your ass.” You demand even though your breath is ragged and your head falls back into the pillows. “Say it, please.” You beg him, and with one powerful thrust, Billy is telling you. “Yeah, I like it, baby, I like when you slap my ass. It makes me so hard, baby. Fuck you’re gonna kill me.” He mutters between the soft skin of your shoulder and neck. 

Completed on: 02/13/24

Posted on: 02/17/24

The Adults-

[brittsacademia]

• Title: You're My Bitch Tonight

• Pairing: Sub!Dabi X Dom!Reader

• Summary: You couldn't remember what prompted you to snap, but one thing you did know was that you'd make a bottom bitch out of Dabi.

• Warnings/Extra Tags: | Role Reversal | Fem!Reader | Dom!Reader | Sub!Dabi | PWP | Strap-on | Pegging | Handjobs | Nipple Play | Edging/Ruined Orgasms | Multiple Orgasms | Facesitting | Mild Suffocation | Restraints | Inappropriate Quirk Usage | Degredation | Aftercare | Dabi Being Kinda Bratty | Dabi Has Nipple and Dick Piercings | Reader Has a Navel Piercing | Pictures | One Empty Blackmail Threat | Slapping | Some Praise | Overstimulation |

• Word Count: 8,980

Notes: Here it is! The offspring of my current Dabi brain rot and life frustrations! Enjoy the filth, this came out way longer than I originally anticipated. It was supposed to be a short Drabble at first, then I got out of hand. Oops.

Minors, DNI. NSFW under the cut.

Dabi. An A-ranked villain, former leader of the League of Villain's Vanguard Action Squad, and current lieutenant of the Paranormal Liberation Front's Violet Regiment — one of Japan's most wanted. He was a dangerous guy, one that could set fire to the skies and watch with a bored, unbothered glint in his eyes as the ashes of his victims dispersed with the wind.

This was a man set on revenge, one who would stop at nothing to ensure his success. None could stand between him and his goal, less they'd want to face the consequences — an agonizing demise; burned alive with no mercy.

He was a man who held all of the world's hatred in his eyes. A single glance from Dabi would be enough to make even the bravest of heroes second-guess their courage, wondering if their life was worth the attempt at capturing the blueflame user.

Dabi. A man who has killed over thirty innocent people with a straight face, and you knew for sure that more bodies would be added to that ever-growing list.

That's what the news and public said, and you supposed that yeah, they all had a very valid point. It was the truth.

You blinked, looking down at that very man — that very danger to society. Your lips twitched, threatening to break out into a sadistic grin. Your stomach fluttered with excitement because, at the moment, Dabi was none of those things.

Straddling his thighs as he laid on your bed, you never broke his gaze, remaining nonchalant as those pretty cerulean eyes of his narrowed at you with pure anger. You were sure that, should he have the capability of speaking, he'd be spouting some colourful words to express his disdain.

The dark room was illuminated by a hue of (colour) that emitted from your body due to your quirk. The abstract markings adorning your arms glowed, signalling the activation of your quirk, as did your eyes. You knew you lacked pupils at the moment — an aesthetic side effect — and it made you feel like some sort of divinity.

Disembodied, ghost-like hands of the same, faint colour held Dabi by the wrists, pining them above his head. You wouldn't even allow him full control of his legs as another pair of hands held them down; you didn't want to give him the opportunity to squirm much, after all.

And you figured that, since you could produce and control six hands at a time, why not clamp one down on his mouth? Shut him up, for once. It had been your initial goal, but it had escalated.

What had you been arguing about prior to this? You couldn't even quite remember, but that wasn't your preoccupation at the moment. All you could focus on was just how fucking turned on you were at the thought of having full control for once.

His words came out as inaudible, muffled grunts. You tilted your head, fingers tapping at your chin in mock contemplation.

"I dunno, babe. You look right at home down there," you said, voice nothing short of condescending. "If I had known that you'd look this pretty, shit, I woulda done this much sooner."

Of course, you got no coherent response, only sounds resonating from deep within his chest.

"Great. I'm glad we finally agree on something," you said, nodding as you pretended to have a normal conversation.

Dabi's stare hardened — obvious disagreement.

You raised a brow as you watched the hands holding him down glow brighter before dimming once more, signalling his attempt at using his own quirk. The sad display beneath you made you laugh.

"Babe, c'mon. Seriously? You know your quirk won't work while mine is latched onto you," you said before shrugging and making a vague hand gesture. "But by all means, go ahead and feed me more strength. It makes things even more fun."

A sixth hand materialized, slipping beneath his shirt and slithering its way up his torso. It reached his face, tenderly cupping his cheek before offering a few patronizing smacks. They weren't rough, by any means, but they had their desired effect of making Dabi's eyes glimmer with violence.

"Okay, okay," you nodded, mostly to yourself. "I think I'll let you speak a little."

You removed the hand that had been latched to his mouth, sliding it down his neck where you could feel his racing pulse; he was into it, but over his dead body he'd admit it.

Now able to speak, Dabi didn't skip a beat. "What the fuck?" He spoke the words slowly, drawing out every syllable with a low tone in a show of frustration.

"What?" You sneered. "I thought you got off when I'm pissed, so what gives, huh? Can't handle it now that I'm the one who's decided to put you in your place?"

"My place, huh?" He chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head. "Wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry, I guess I should speak more clearly," you said, placing yourself atop the growing bulge in his jeans. You leaned forward, pressing your chest against his as your lips inched closer to his ear. "Your rightful place as a little bottom bitch."

"Fuck y— hmph."

Dabi didn't get to finish his sentence as you slipped cold fingers into his mouth, nearly hitting the back of his throat. Although the hand wasn't attached to your body, you could still feel the wet, slimy texture of his tongue.

"You can bitch all you want, Dabi, but we both know you're enjoying this as much as I am," you said, sitting straight before rolling your hips against his for emphasis.

You could have sworn that you saw his eye twitch, and you weren't quite sure if it was from arousal or anger. It was then that you softened in the slightest, sliding your hands — your real ones — up and down his sides soothingly as you removed the fingers from his mouth.

"... You know you can tell me to stop, right?" You said, making it clear that, although you were mad at him, you weren't there to make him uncomfortable either.

Dabi looked you in the eye, brows still firmly furrowed, as he held your gaze before casting a glance to the side. It was as if he were ashamed of his predicament and the conflicting feelings swirling inside of him. His mind screamed at him that this new territory wasn't for him, that he'd much rather have you all bent over for him to take his frustration out on your cunt. On the other hand, however, his cock said the opposite, nearly begging him to give in and see where this would go.

Fuck, he'd be a liar if he said that you looked anything but hot at the moment.

Eventually, he settled on his classic, shit-eating smirk. "Fine. Go ahead and have your little power trip. Enjoy it while it lasts, 'cause you know damn well what I'm gonna do to you when this is over."

"I think you're a little confused there. You should be more concerned with what I'm going to do to you," you said with a tilt of your head. "If, for whatever reason, you can't talk, try using your quirk if you want to stop. I'll notice."

“You're being awfully soft for someone who claims to be pissed with me," he said, still being a nuisance. You wondered if it was just Dabi being himself, or if he was being a brat as part of his play. Both, probably.

You smiled; it lacked any warmth, only holding a warning. "Don't worry. I won't be playing soft for too long."

Not being able to move his arms, Dabi gestured with his head, sneering. "Then impress me, sweetheart."

You chuckled. Poor thing didn't know what you had in mind for him, now that you had the green light for full control. That bratty attitude of his? It'd be gone. His pride? Shattered. His mind? So fucking broken.

Ghostly hands that had made their way down to the hem of his shirt, teasingly fiddling with the fabric, now had a firm grasp as they began to lift the clothing up above his head before disappearing into thin air. You made sure to relish in every bit of skin — every purple patch and glistening staple — that was revealed to you. Your gaze was piercing, unwavering and studious, but no less appreciative; it made Dabi swallow hard.

You leaned forward again, lips hovering over his. "I don't think you'll be disappointed."

In an attempt to salvage any remnants of control he had, Dabi pressed his lips to yours in a hard, passionate kiss that took both your breaths away. You allowed his tongue to flick against yours before he licked at the roof of your mouth, offering a pleasant tickling sensation that travelled down between your legs.

As much as you enjoyed his tongue inside your mouth, you had enough of this. You wouldn't allow him to think he had an edge over you, and so, as he attempted to slip his tongue deeper into your mouth, you pulled away, closing your lips around his tongue. You sucked at the muscle as you backed away, and you heard a frustrated grunt escape Dabi as you did so.

You smirked and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. You edged closer to his ear, making sure to barely brush your lips against the skin of his face as you made your way up there. You were sure that he could feel the way you grinned, unable to hide your excitement from the sudden rush of power traversing your body.

Your tongue dragged along his earlobe, pulling a deep sigh from Dabi. Kissing down his cheeks to his jawbone, you made your way to his neck, and you slowly licked down his pulse point, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in your wake before sinking your teeth into the junction between his neck and shoulder. You nicked his collarbone — a sensitive area of his — with your tongue closely following to soothe the little marks you left across his body. Beneath you, Dabi's hips shifted, cock jumping at the attention. You could feel the way his thighs tensed, and you just knew that every fibre of his being wanted to pin you down.

But he was powerless — powerless against you, an ordinary civilian — and fuck, seeing someone like Dabi being reduced to something so pathetic was a work of art that you were dying to immortalize.

"You're lucky I'm letting you do this," Dabi grumbled.

"Mhm," you hummed, barely acknowledging his words. All bark, no bite. Not that he could bite at the moment.

And a ghost hand was back to his mouth, silencing him. You felt his warm tongue licking into the palm of the hand — a feeble attempt at deterring you. You quickly glanced up and seeing his eyes full of annoyance, accompanied by unmistakable lust that he so desperately tried to hide, made you laugh. How he could still uphold that look, you didn't know, but you were going to make that petty little glare of his falter.

You gripped the hem of your oversized t-shirt — his shirt — and slowly, very agonizingly slowly pulled it up towards your chest, exposing your near-bare lower body as you only wore lacy underwear. Dabi's eyes immediately fell to your hips, intently glaring at the way your cunt rested so snugly atop his cock. Expectantly, Dabi's eyes wandered to your chest, waiting for your breasts to grace his view, but you wouldn't grant him that satisfaction quite yet. Your expression held cockiness as you took the shirt's hem between your teeth, not fully pulling it over your chest. Instead, from where he laid, Dabi was offered a tantalizing view of the under curvature of your breasts.

As you slid your hands down your body, teasingly pulling at the band of your panties though not removing them, you found amusement in the way Dabi's expression had been breaking as the seconds ticked by. Though anger still remained, it was faltering; it was as if there was an intense battle between anger and burning desire, and the latter was winning little by little.

Slowly, you began rutting your hips against him, moaning as your clit slid against Dabi's erection. With the right amount of pressure, jolts of pleasure shot through your veins that fuelled your arousal, even through the layers of clothing. You could feel Dabi attempt to rise his hips further against you, but your quirk held him down.

If you focused enough, you could make out the way Dabi muttered curses underneath his makeshift gag. His chest began to heave shakily, and his eyes grew heavier from lust as they zeroed in on the rocking of your hips. He watched the way the dangling, blue heart piercing on your navel gently swayed in time with your movements — a gift he had gotten for you last month.

A particularly hard thrust had Dabi grunting. His cock pulsed underneath his jeans and boxers; it was uncomfortable, and he was dying for a shred of relief, but judging by the predatory shine in your irises, Dabi knew he wouldn't be graced with his wishes.

Your shirt was still wedged between your teeth, fabric wet with your saliva. Then, you stilled, abruptly stopping your ruts as you slipped your panties to the side, giving Dabi a slight peek at your slick cunt as you made a show of stroking your lips before spreading them. He wanted to touch you, you knew he did, but you wouldn't let him.

You'd let him watch, though.

Your fingers slid through your lips, and as you brushed against your entrance, you dipped two fingers inside of you, gathering arousal across your digits which you dragged up to your clit. Your moans, although somewhat muffled by your shirt, went straight to Dabi's dick as you slowly stroked your clit up and down. His breathing grew heavier as he remained bound and unable to touch you. The wet shine coating your fingers was beyond enticing to him, and he couldn't tear his eyes away.

You pulled your fingers away from your pussy, letting your shirt fall back down. Now covered up, Dabi's trance seemingly broke, and he was narrowing his eyes at you once again.

You made the hand covering his mouth disappear, allowing him to speak, but before he could do so, you leaned down, gripping at his jaw to keep him in place as you brought your wet fingers to his mouth.

"Come on, babe," you prompted.

Dabi said nothing, only shifting his gaze between your face and fingers before reluctantly opening his mouth, allowing you to dip your fingers inside. He couldn't help the grunt as your taste hit his tongue; he savoured it. He closed his lips around your digits as you began thrusting them gently.

You licked your lips before parting them in a breathy exhalation as your cunt clenched at the sight beneath you. "Hollow your cheeks, hon."

When he didn't immediately comply, you roughly hit the back of his throat, making his body jump as he gagged rather loudly. His strong reaction made you coo condescendingly, and you were sure that, should he have been capable of producing tears, his eyes would be watering. Would it make you a shit person for saying that you wished you could see him cry in this context? Maybe, but you didn't really care.

"I won't ask again, Dabi," you said.

It was fucking humiliating, but Dabi eventually caved and did as you asked, hollowing his cheeks around your fingers, effectively creating more suction.

You groaned at the sight. "Fuck yeah. That's it."

You thrust your fingers a bit faster, occasionally hitting the back of his throat — though not as roughly as the first time — as you desperately wanted to hear him make those lovely gagging noises again.

"That's it, bitch," you said. "God, wouldn't you look pretty sucking on a cock?"

His eyes hardened at the degrading nickname, feeling beyond humiliated as a growl reverberated from deep within his chest.

Eventually, you pulled your fingers out of his mouth, which were heavily coated with his saliva. Dabi panted, attempting to catch his breath.

"Screw you. Fuck you," Dabi hissed at you.

"So vulgar..." you mused.

You gripped at his face, pressing onto his cheeks. "Open your mouth," you commanded.

He stubbornly gritted his teeth, attempting to turn his head away from you in defiance. You huffed, unappreciative of this bratty attitude of his. You tenderly cupped his cheek, tracing the seam of his marred skin with your fingertips in faux sympathy before giving him a nice smack. It wasn't hard enough to harm him, but enough to leave a red blotch on his healthy skin.

What you didn't expect was the damn-near pornographic moan that escaped him upon impact, pupils blown wide with want.

Freak.

"Open your fucking mouth," you repeated.

He did, and when you leaned over his mouth, lining up yours with his, Dabi had a feeling that he knew where you were going with this; he had done it to you before. Payback's a bitch, he supposed.

You let your saliva drop into his mouth, and you were satisfied to see you didn't even need to tell him to swallow. He did so immediately, making a show of gulping audibly.

"Good boy," you said, rubbing the mark on his cheek. "Say thank you."

"... Thank you," he muttered gruffly, cringing as he said it; the words sounded as though they had physically hurt him to say.

You nodded approvingly and appreciatively. Perhaps he was beginning to submit to you a bit more; you were making progress.

You sat back up, running your hands down his toned chest before your thumbs rolled his nipples, making sure to play with the pretty barbells pierced through the sensitive flesh. The attention made Dabi bite his lip harshly, wanting nothing more than to cut off any moan that threatened to escape him.

You took it as a challenge, leaning down again as you flattened your tongue against a bud while your thumb and index fingers continued toying with the other one. Your tongue swirled, flicking the barbell around, making Dabi's body shake, the stimulation to his chest feeling overwhelming with your precise and rapid movements.

"Ngh... fuck, babe," Dabi moaned. It was strained as he tried to contain the noise.

You hummed, pressing a multitude of sloppy kisses to his body as you trailed downwards. His abs tensed underneath your lips, watching in anticipation as you neared the one place he wanted you the most. You slid your nails down the attractive trail of white hair until you reached the bulge in his pants, flattening your palm against it. You felt him up, groping as you revelled at how hard he was. You sat straight as you undid his belt and jeans.

"Fucking, finally," Dabi sighed, already feeling less confined.

You hummed, pulling Dabi's pants and boxers down his legs and letting his heavy cock slap onto his lower abdomen, leaving behind a small puddle of pre-cum. The liquid seeped from his tip, running down his shaft and making that pretty frenum piercing of his glisten further. The sight had your mouth watering, watching how he throbbed with a desperate need to cum.

You finally pulled your shirt over your head, effectively distracting Dabi as he focused his attention on your bare skin. As you did so, you took the opportunity to command your quirk to fumble beneath the bed, subtly pulling out what would be the main event of your night. Tossing your shirt to the floor, you smirked as you watched the hands emerge, holding the items, which did not go unnoticed by Dabi.

"What the fuck are you looking a—"

Dabi's words died as his eyes grew wide upon seeing the bottle of lube and harness that bore a realistic, beige-coloured dildo — around six and a half inches, curved with some texture and a smooth tip. Dabi gulped, knowing damn well what you were implying, but still, he managed to glare up at you in an attempt to salvage his wavering dignity.

"What in the fuck is that?" Dabi hissed. It was rhetorical, but you still answered.

"That," you gave him a bored look as you pointed at the toy for emphasis, "would be a strap-on."

His glare hardened. "I fucking know what it is. When did you even get that?"

"Gag gift from a friend," you shrugged, running your hands along his thighs before snaking them towards his ass. "And I am going to use that little toy to fuck this," you said, squeezing the flesh teasingly.

"As if I'm letting you do that. You're out of your mind," Dabi said.

"What?" You sneered. "Is the big, bad villain scared of a bit of cock in his ass?"

Perhaps it was wrong of you to play with his ego as such, but again, you didn't really care. Besides, you weren't about to ignore the uncharacteristic hue of pink coating Dabi's cheeks.

"I'd rather fuck into that pretty little cunt of yours," Dabi said.

"I'm sure you would," you said rather casually as you set the strap-on next to him and grabbed the lube. "Anyway, that's for a little later. I've got other things I want to do to you first."

You gripped the base of Dabi's cock, pouring a generous stream of lube onto it. With both hands wrapped around his girth, you slowly glided up and down his shaft to thoroughly coat it and your hands in the slippery liquid.

You chuckled under your breath; if Dabi thought you would jerk his cock as you usually did, he was sorely mistaken.

Reaching for the tip of his cock, you brought a fingertip to the head, tracing your finger in slow circles around it as to tease him. The lube slicking his cock made the simple action that much more satisfying, and you could see more beads of his own pre-cum leaking down and merging with the lube. The mild stimulation was enough to make his dick jump from how aroused and needy Dabi was.

"So reactive, and I'm not even doing anything," you cooed.

You wrapped your hand at the base of his tip, making sure to pump at a tortuously slow pace, twisting your hand and letting your thumb rub against the frenulum of his cock — the area's sensitivity being amplified by the piercing — before teasing his slit.

Dabi threw his head back, teeth gritted as he finally received the attention he wanted. You could see his thighs tensing and shaking as you repeated the action, over and over, but never picking up the pace.

Your unoccupied hand reached for his balls, gently caressing them and offering the occasional squeeze, which earned you more streams of pre-cum, and a pretty moan from your villainous boyfriend.

Dabi's lips parted, sucking in a breath. It felt simultaneously amazing, but barely enough. Dabi was used to rough sex and harsh tugs at his cock to get him off, but you seemed adamant on depriving him of such, content with edging him towards his release.

And you fucking knew that, but you liked watching the conflict on his face. You loved seeing how engorged his cock and heavy his balls were from the need to cum. You adored watching his brows crease together as his eyes clenched shut.

"F-Fuck. Go faster," Dabi asked.

You stopped your movements altogether, seemingly contemplating his request, and Dabi had thought for a moment that he'd get what he wanted.

"Hm... no," you said, smirking in the slightest as a brief look of defeat crossed Dabi's features, though it was gone in an instant.

What kind of fucking monster had he allowed control of him?

Placing your palm atop the tip, you extended your fingers in a claw-like manner before gliding them up and down, from the head to the shaft, still keeping the same, lazy pace. You varied the pressure, offering a variety of sensations that had him arching his back.

Lowering both your hands to the base of his cock, you leaned down and swirled your tongue at the underside of his tip before sensually lapping at his slit, tasting the mixture of lubes as you maintained eye contact.

You took him into your mouth, fully taking him until he hit the back of your throat, but you didn't offer much more, immediately popping off of his dick and resuming your torturous handjob. The whine that escaped Dabi was so worth it.

"Maybe if you beg for it, I'll go faster," you said.

"You've gotta be kidding?" Dabi hissed.

You shook your head, keeping your concentration on his cock. You could practically feel the sheer humiliation radiating from Dabi's very soul.

".... Please," he visibly gritted his teeth as the word left his mouth. "Please go faster. I need you to go faster."

"Aw. Good boy," you said, genuinely smiling. "No."

"Excuse me? You fucking said—"

"Maybe. I said 'maybe'," you said, suddenly gripping his dick in a tight hold, immediately causing it to pulse in your hand. "You don't need me to go faster. I'll make you cum by my own means. Thank you very much."

You let go for a moment before slapping his cock hard enough for Dabi to fucking yelp. His cheeks were bright red, tongue darting to wet his lips.

Your hand gripped him once more. "You're just a masochistic little whore, aren't you?"

Touching the tip of your index finger to your thumb, you made an 'O' shape with your fingers, and starting at the tip of his cock, you stroked him downwards, and as you reached the base of his dick, your other hand repeated the process. Like an escalator type of motion; it had Dabi's cock twitching with every one of your movements.

Dabi's breaths grew heavy and rapid, and his thighs were so tense his body shook. His cock pulsed frequently as his head was thrown back.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he moaned, drawing out his words. "'M close. 'M so fuckin' close."

You hummed knowingly, yet you made no move to speed up as you normally would when he was close to orgasm. You were determined to draw this out as much as you could.

You began stroking his cock in a more standard motion, and to Dabi's horror and your sadistic amusement, you slowed your movements even more. He didn't know it was even possible.

"No! Ngh... fuck. Don't fuckin' slow down," he grunted. "The fuck's wrong with you?"

"Fuck yes! That's it," you moaned as he reached his peak.

It was unlike anything you had seen before: thick cum slowly beading at his tip before trickling down his shaft and gathering onto your hand and his pelvis. You've never seen him cum like this before, and you were mesmerized by every new drop that slowly dripped down his cock.

Dabi's reaction was beautiful. The grunts were loud, drawled out in a low tone that came from the deepest pits of his chest. His eyes had nearly rolled to the back of his skull as his tongue lolled out of his mouth for a brief second.

This was the longest orgasm he had ever gotten, and Dabi's head thrashed from side to side as he began feeling the overstimulation. Fuck — he was still leaking with cum; it wasn't over yet.

"H-Hah, fuck...!" He panted.

As his orgasm began to subside, your lips curled into a nearly-lopsided grin that Dabi missed due to his eyes being clenched shut.

"Take a deep breath, baby," you said.

"Why...?" He asked confusedly, still in a post-orgasm haze.

"Just do it."

He eyed you wearily but did as you asked. You watched as his chest rose, lungs being filled with oxygen. Before he could get a chance to exhale, you summoned your quirk, bringing a hand up to his face. You not only covered his mouth but also his nose.

Dabi's eyes widened at the sudden realization that he couldn't breathe, sending a brief shot of panic through his veins. He looked you in the eye, and as if you could sense his feelings, you softened.

"Remember what I said earlier?"

Dabi did; you were reminding him that he had the power to stop this at any given moment. He blinked, panic subsiding as he nodded. He became oddly relaxed for a man deprived of a necessary function for survival.

He trusted you.

You smiled at the green light and went straight back to work.

Unable to sharply inhale, his chest jumped as your hand resumed jerking off his cock — fast and rough. Your thumb stroked all of his most sensitive spots.

Dabi's eyes rolled to the back of his skull; grunts and moans remained caught in his throat. He was so fucking sensitive, and he wasn't sure if his head spun because of the overstimulation or from the lack of clean oxygen.

"What? Didn't you want me to go faster? I'm pretty sure that's what you were begging for earlier. Please, please go faster. I need you to go faster," you said, mocking him as you threw his previous words right back at him.

This was a foreign feeling to Dabi. Everything about this situation was foreign to him. But breath play? It was the last thing he expected out of you.

Dabi's Adam's Apple bobbed as the air trapped in his lungs tried to escape, cheeks bulging out as he grunted against the hand in an attempt to suck in fresh air. It was in vain; the hand was tightly clamped and suffocating him. His adrenaline seemed to be spiking, and it went straight to the swell of his cock.

He could hear his heartbeat thumping loudly in his own ears. His chest jumped again, convulsing hard enough that you got a brief view of his ribs.

"Hmph," he grunted again.

Dabi's lungs burned, and that warmth only fuelled his arousal. Fuck — it surprised him how into this he was. As his heart hammered against his chest in an erratic rhythm, his chest began to convulse more often, gagging noises sounding from his throat.

With the relentless way you fucked him with your hand and the lack of air, Dabi began growing dizzy, and he wondered if he was on the verge of passing out. He could tap out, but no way his pride would allow him to do such a thing.

Although his eyes threatened to fall shut, they shot wide open as he felt a second orgasm hit him like a train. It was a powerful one, painting his stomach white, with some nearly reaching his chest.

You took the hand off his face the moment his orgasm hit, enjoying the way he was torn between coughing, moaning and breathing heavily.

You gently stroked Dabi's thighs, shushing him as he came down from his high. Colour came flooding back to his face as he took in big gasps of air. He looked exhausted, and you sincerely contemplated ending the night there, thinking you may have gone too hard on him.

Dabi seemingly took notice of the soft, contemplative look in your eye. While he did appreciate your concern for his well-being, the night was still young, wasn't it?

"... 'S that all you got, princess?" He taunted with a tired smirk.

You laughed, getting back into character. "No, not at all."

You looked at your hand, still covered in Dabi's cum, before looking at him with a smirk. You lowered your hand near his mouth, looking at him expectantly.

"Clean it up, baby," you demanded.

Payback really was a bitch, huh? Dabi thought back to all the times he made you lick him clean, no matter if it was your or his mess. He opened his mouth, allowing you to shove a cum-coated finger inside. Dabi's glare was deadly as his own tangy taste hit his tongue.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not so bad, is it?" You taunted.

He much preferred your taste, but still, Dabi decided to put on a show for you as he began swirling his tongue around your finger, swallowing down his cum. As you removed your finger, his tongue darted towards your palm, sensually lapping up his substance while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck, that's hot," you said, licking your lips as you pulled your hand away.

"You're a freak," Dabi said.

"Yet here you are, indulging me. Face it, you're loving this," you retorted.

For a brief second, you hopped off the bed in order to slide your panties down. You made sure to bend over as you did so, giving Dabi a nice view of your ass and pussy, and peeking over your shoulder, you could tell that Dabi was definitely appreciative of the sight.

"Now," you started, crawling back onto the bed. "I'm not that cruel, so I'll give you a moment to recover a bit before I make you cum again. So, in the meantime, it's my turn to get off."

You crawled over him before straddling his chest, and oh, Dabi now understood what you wanted from him. He smirked up at you, thinking that this was the perfect opportunity to regain a bit of control by making you helplessly cum all over his tongue.

"Yeah? I'll make you feel good. C'mere," he said in a low growl.

"Don't be mistaken, babe. I'm still holding the reins, here," you said.

You got into position, thighs on either side of his head as your pussy hovered above his mouth. You could see Dabi's fingers twitching, wishing that he could grip your flesh and grind you down onto his mouth on his own accord. Dabi's patience seemed to be wavering, especially when you had teased him with your arousal on your fingers earlier. He was dying to replace the taste of himself in his mouth with your essence; just your smell was enough to make his pupils dilate, hazing his brain and fuelling his sex drive.

"God, you look nothing short of pathetic, right now. You should see how desperate you look," you taunted.

Dabi huffed. "Yeah? 'Cause from where I'm lying, your cunt's looking pretty fuckin' wet."

You lowered yourself onto Dabi's waiting mouth without warning. "God. Shut the fuck up."

Dabi's grunts were muffled under your weight, but it didn't take him much coaxing before he began devouring your sweet pussy. His lips closed around your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud as his tongue flicked at it.

You threw your head back, lips parting in a moan as you looked down at your boyfriend, and the look of pure enjoyment in his eyes made your cunt clench, nearly cumming on the spot. Dabi was enthusiastic, sloppily lapping at your arousal with loud and lewd slurping noises as your lube and his saliva sloshed around. Drool dribbled down his chin, and paired with the raven strands of hair that clung to his forehead from all the sweat, his face already looked like a mess.

"Yess. F-Fuck yes, Dabi!" You said, earning you a particularly good flick of his tongue. "Good boy. Fuck, you're good at this. That's all you're good for, huh?"

He blinked, and to your surprise, his eyes didn't turn harsh, they remained curious, pleasured — vulnerable.

Your thighs tensed, squeezing Dabi's head; the man beneath you looked in fucking heaven. You added more pressure to his mouth, essentially suffocating him with your soaked cunt; Dabi never skipped a beat, only eating you out much more vigorously like a starved man.

"Shit, that's it," you moaned, running your hand through his hair before yanking it roughly, earning a muffled moan from him. "I've always wanted to do this."

You lifted yourself off his mouth, allowing him to catch his breath. Although Dabi was panting, he lifted his head off the mattress, attempting to re-attach his lips to your pussy, eager to resume.

"Stick your tongue out, baby. Lemme ride your face," you said.

"Hm.. a'right," he said, doing as you asked.

You lowered yourself back onto his mouth, and you wasted no time in thrusting your hips, gliding your clit against the wet muscle. Your pace was relentless, you were practically using him for your pleasure, but Dabi didn't seem to mind, the pleasured grunts he let out sent delightful vibrations to your cunt.

You pulled at his hair again. "Fuck, you love getting smothered by my pussy, huh?" He answered with a hum. "I think I — fuck — like you better like this. Putting your dirty, rude fucking mouth to good use for once. All bound up for me to use however I want."

Dabi was so focused on our pussy that he hadn't noticed that you had summoned another ghost hand. At least, not until he felt a cool liquid dripping into his ass. Dabi's eyes widened in surprise, looking up at you as if demanding an explanation.

You slowed your movement, looking back at your quirk as if you had been none the wiser to what was happening. "Oh, that? Don't worry, baby. I need to stretch you out a bit."

The hands that had been holding his legs down throughout the whole night spread his legs further, giving you better access to his hole. The free hand inched closer, soothing the ring of muscles with soft, teasing circles.

"You're tense. I'm gonna need you to relax, 'kay?" You said before lifting yourself off his tongue once more, giving him the opportunity to speak. "Is this something you're willing to try? Just say the word, and the idea is gone."

Dabi felt his resolve crumbling. If this were anyone else, he would've incinerated them on the spot for even proposing the idea. But with you? He could trust you with this kind of vulnerability, something that was difficult — so difficult — for him to show. So, he nodded.

"Yeah, okay. Do what you want. I put you in charge, after all," he said.

You laughed. "If I remember correctly, you didn't put me in charge, I just took it."

"Mhm. Whatever you say."

"Okay, baby. Relax, I'm going to put it in, okay?" You said.

Dabi nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if to brace himself for the foreign breach that was to come, and when it came, his eyes shot wide open, breathing coming to a sharp halt as his teeth gritted together in a hiss as a chilly finger began pushing inside his ass.

The finger had more girth than the average human size, and so you stilled, allowing him to adjust to the feeling before resuming. You reminded him to breathe, which he obeyed. When he seemed less tense, you pushed deeper until you were knuckle-deep. With the size of the finger, you wouldn't need to insert a second one. It was good training, however, as the dildo size you planned to use on him was rather large for a first-time ride.

"How does it feel," you asked, unable to hide your arousal when you heard Dabi — of all fucking people — whimper.

"Weird... but s'not bad," Dabi grunted, and you could tell that he was holding back his true feelings due to pride.

"Good. You're doing really good," you praised — a stark contrast to your previous behaviour.

But it wouldn't last very long.

Dabi's mind seemed in a haze — in a whole other dimension — so you reached down to lightly smack his cheek to gain his attention.

"You know, you still haven't made me cum," you said, gesturing to your pussy that still remained above his mouth. "You better finish what you started, and I expect you to make me cum before you do. Don't be selfish."

Dabi nodded, eyes glinting with mischief as he accepted your little challenge, and like the obedient little toy you had reduced him to, he stuck his tongue out, waiting for you to smother him.

You moaned loudly; if you thought his enthusiasm was mind-blowing before, it had reached a whole other level. The tip of his tongue dipped inside your entrance before moving to rapidly flick your clit in a consistent up and down motion. The pressure he applied was perfect, and his pace was that of a man on a fucking mission, dead set on the end goal.

Your ghost hand began to thrust, causing Dabi's breath to hitch as his tongue faltered for a moment. In response, you rutted your hips against him — it was a warning.

You slid your finger in and out, setting a slow and steady pace to warm him up. You felt around for a special little spot, one that had possibly never been stimulated up until now, and by God, you were excited to be the first one to hit that jackpot.

As you prodded around, Dabi's whole body suddenly tensed up, and he couldn't stop himself when his mouth unlatched from your pussy as he threw his head back, wheezing as if the wind had just been knocked out of him.

You laughed. "There it is."

You adjusted the hand, making sure that you slid the finger at the perfect angle, continuously sliding against Dabi's sweet spot. You moved at a slow pace, making him anticipate the moment you would hit the area again, and when you did, fuck, the slow pace you set made him feel the intense stimulation on every little nerve ending.

Dabi's tongue lolled out of his mouth, nearly going cross-eyed at the sensation. It was a nice sight, for sure, but you were a little unhappy with the lack of stimulation you were receiving. Your clit felt swollen, pulsing from need.

"Hm... I'm happy that you're enjoying yourself, but don't forget what you're supposed to be doing," you said.

"F-Fuck... ahhh. 'M sorry — shit, feels so fuckin' good — c'mere," he moaned, regaining his focus.

You were relentless as you rode his tongue, not giving him the opportunity to catch his breath. You figured you'd do all the work if your little pillow princess was unable to focus because of one measly finger up his ass.

Dabi's eyes rolled back, grunts and whimpers muffled by your cunt. His senses were overwhelmed, and he was living for it. Your smell, the feel of your skin, your touch, your sounds, the sight of you — everything felt overstimulating.

"F-Fuck! I'm close, Dabi," you moaned, riding him so roughly that your clit occasionally hit his nose. "Are you gonna make me cum, baby?"

Dabi had a hard time answering, even if it was just a hum, especially when the finger began thrusting in time with your grinding. Fuck, he was close, about to hit his third orgasm of the night. He tried his best to keep the cum in his balls, but it proved difficult when you were massaging his prostate like that.

You knew Dabi well enough to know the signs, and you huffed, not pleased that he was failing his task, and so, just as he was about to cum, the finger stilled. You summoned a sixth hand, tightly wrapping it around Dabi's cock while pressing down at the back of his tip, forcing the urge to subside. Dabi whined at the ruined orgasm, eyes twitching as he gave you the most pitiful look you had ever seen on him.

"Uh-uh," you chided. "Remember what I said? I get to cum first."

He nodded, forcing his concentration back onto your cunt, determined to make you squirt all over his goddamn face. Your moans were music to his ears, and he found himself grunting with every little noise falling from your lips. Your head was thrown back, hands reaching for the bedsheets as you gripped them in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Your thighs clenched around his head as they shook, and Dabi could feel your clit pulse on his tongue.

"Dabi! Fuck! C-Cumming. I'm gonna cum," you panted.

You went silent for a brief moment as your body went rigid, and when the tension that had been building in your abdomen snapped, you let out a loud, elongated moan. Your chest heaved with rapid breaths as sharp pleasure had your pussy pulsing from a powerful orgasm. Dabi nearly growled as he savoured your taste when your cum hit his lips. It was a mess as the clear liquid he couldn't catch in his mouth trickled down his chin.

He slowed down his movements, helping you ride out your high until he completely stilled. You lifted yourself off his mouth, backing away so that you were straddling his chest as you caught your breath and recovered from your post-orgasm haze. After all, you still had one last thing to do.

"Fuck," Dabi licked his lips, swallowing down more of your cum, groaning in satisfaction. "Did I do good?"

"Hm... yeah, you did. But now," you said, grabbing the strap-on before stepping off the bed. "We get to the real fun."

You made the hands that had been preoccupied with his cock and ass disappear, making Dabi suddenly feel so empty. He watched as you slipped the harness on, the straps weren't complicated and awkward to figure out, so you didn't fiddle with them all that much.

You crawled back onto the bed, placing yourself between Dabi's spread legs before grabbing the bottle of lube and slathering some on the silicone cock. For safety, you applied some more to Dabi's asshole. You didn't want the stretch to hurt him, after all.

"You look pretty ecstatic with this. You have some kind of weird fetish for me with things in my ass, huh?" Dabi teased.

"Maybe I do. Who knows? Maybe next time, I'll make you wear a cute, fuzzy tail butt plug," you said, lining yourself up.

"As if I'd let you do that."

"That's what you've been saying all night, yet here we are."

You held onto his thighs, locking eyes with him. No words needed to be exchanged for Dabi to know that you were asking if he was ready, to which he nodded. Dabi exhaled, forcing his body to relax as he felt the tip of the cock prodding at his hole.

The toy began breaching, making Dabi's breath hitch. Shit — he was suddenly happy that you had prepped him with your quirk, that thing was much bigger than he had anticipated. Dabi's breath caught in his throat as you slowly pushed in deeper before stilling as means to let him adjust. His cock betrayed him, throbbing and seemingly getting even harder at the sensation of being filled up.

"Fuck. Oh my Go—" Dabi's words died down as his head fell back into the sheets, mouth parting in a silent moan.

You leaned down, pressing a surprisingly loving kiss to his lips, serving as a distraction from the stretch. Dabi lazily reciprocated, being as delirious as he was. You then brought your lips to his ear.

"I'm halfway in, okay? Just relax, it's gonna feel so good soon," you shushed with a reassuring tone that had Dabi nearly melting.

The shift between your harsh treatment of his body and your soft, caring side gave him whiplash at times, but he had to say: he loved it. He loved how you knew which side to use at which moment. Dabi would have never guessed that you would make such a good top, but you just kept surprising him, didn't you?

Gently, you pushed the dildo further in, pulling a sharp gasp from Dabi as you bottomed out, your hips firmly pressed against his. Again, you let him adjust to the depth the toy was reaching, to the stretch it was providing. Your thumbs traced soothing circles into the healthy skin of his thighs.

He had better enjoy this tenderness while it lasted, because you were going to fucking destroy him.

You gave an experimental thrust, only pulling out halfway before pushing back in; it made Dabi's body jolt. Grinning at his pleasured reaction, you fully pulled out the toy before giving one hard, deep thrust.

"A-Ah!"

You grinned. "Atta boy. That's it."

You rocked your hips, rolling them in an attempt to find the perfect angle to hit his G-spot. The lube made the glide so slick and easy, and you found that Dabi's tight little hole had adjusted rather quickly, allowing you to push your hips against him rather roughly.

"Holy shit," you moaned, the sight underneath you bringing pleasure in of itself.

Dabi already looked fucked out, dignity thrown out the window as curses mingled with moans and pleas for more, more. His eyes blinked rapidly as if trying to clear his vision from whatever haze took over him, and drool pooled at the corner of his lips from the way the tip of his tongue poked out.

Fuck it, you thought as you fully deactivated your quirk, allowing Dabi not only free rein of his arms and legs but also his flames. But honestly? You had him right where you wanted, and you knew that he was too concentrated on the pleasure to even think about regaining control.

Your skin slapped against his, the rough thrusts making the bed creak. One of Dabi's arms shot to his face, covering his eyes and a portion of his sweat-covered forehead as the pleasure hit him hard, while his other hand gripped at the sheets beneath him. His legs seemed to have a mind of their own, spreading as much as they could to give you better angles to pleasure him.

His cock bobbed in time with your thrusts, and you watched as pre-cum seeped from the red, swollen tip. You knew he wouldn't last very long in this state, and you were fine with that; you just wanted to give him mind-boggling pleasure and make him forget his own fucking name.

"OH SHIT! Fuck!" Dabi screamed, back arching as you hit that spot.

"Right there, huh?" You grinned. "Get ready, baby."

You pushed one of his legs up towards his chest, making him gasp loudly as you found the perfect angle to fuck him stupid. Hearing him whine and moan, chanting your name like a prayer, gave your ego such a fucking boost, and you swore you might have cum from those sounds alone.

You licked your lips as you took notice of the previous spurts of cum painting Dabi's torso. He looked so fucking hot like that, and you couldn't help yourself when you activated your quirk one last time. A ghost hand brought your phone, opening up the camera app as you snapped a picture. The sound of the shutter caught Dabi's attention.

You groaned at the picture — a work of art, is what it was.

"Fuck, Dabi. Look at yourself," you said, bringing your phone to his face.

He could barely recognize himself: matted hair, all wet and clinging to his forehead. His body was covered in sweat and cum, while his lips shined with his drool and your own release. He had the most delirious, fucked-out look he had ever seen in his life, with eyes nearly crossing and rosy cheeks. From the angle, he could see the silicone cock inside his ass, and his rock-hard cock stood flushed and engorged as it seeped with his lube.

You put your phone away, deactivating your quirk. "God, what would they think if they saw you like this? Think anybody would take you seriously ever again? I'm sure I could make a fortune, whoring you out for the world to see. What do you think? One of the most dangerous villains getting fucked by thick cock."

He whined at your words. Even though he knew you wouldn't ever truly do that to him, hearing that little fantasy of yours had his cock pulsing. Dabi couldn't help himself when he reached for his dick, stroking it in time with your rough thrusts, only edging him closer to his release.

"That's it, babe. Stroke that fat cock," you encouraged, pace never faltering.

"G-Gonna... 'm gonna — fuck," he couldn't even form a coherent sentence, the pleasure was just getting too much.

"I know, Dabi," you said. "Do it. Cum for me."

He did, and the overstimulation hit him immediately. He could barely keep pumping his dick through his orgasm without squirming, especially when you slammed against his G-spot, thoroughly milking him dry. The amount of cum that poured out of him was impressive, possibly due to his previously interrupted orgasm. He covered his face with both his hands, grunting loudly yet lowly in a way that resembled a growl.

Your thrusts subsided, and you carefully slid the toy out. You leaned down to press soothing butterfly kisses to his thighs before moving up to his face. Pulling his arms away from his face, you peppered his face and lips with the same, loving kisses. You shushed him, muttering praises as he came down from his high.

"Are you okay?" You asked with genuine concern.

"Yeah. 'M good," he croaked in a tired voice.

"Stay here, okay?" You said, hopping off the bed and ridding yourself of the strap-on before heading out of the room.

Dabi nodded, staring up at the ceiling — not that he could move much at the moment; he felt so goddamn sore and tired. You did a number on him.

You came back after a moment, a sheepish smile on your face as you brought towels and a glass of water. You helped Dabi sit up, bringing the glass to his lips as he tilted his head back. He gulped down the water in one go, throat immediately feeling refreshed.

"What are you doing?" He asked, watching as you unfolded one of the damp cloths.

"Taking care of you."

You brought the cloth to his face, and being mindful of his staples, you cleaned his face of all the sweat, drool and dried cum. Dabi sighed at the feeling, the coolness feeling great on his overheated body. You went lower, cleaning the release off his chest and pelvis. You muttered an apology when Dabi hissed in sensitivity when you gently brought a fresh cloth to his softened dick.

You tossed the towels into a hamper before bringing your boyfriend into a hug, which he reciprocated tightly. "I hope I wasn't too rough on you.”

He chuckled, patting your back reassuringly. "I didn't know you had it in you. I can't remember what I did to piss you off to the point of ragdolling me around in bed, but shit, I must have deserved it."

You laughed, pulling away so that you could kiss his forehead. "So, can I say that I fucked you stupid?"

"Hm... I dunno, but maybe I should piss you off more often if that's the outcome."

"Don't test me," you said, shaking your head. "Alright, lemme go run a bath."

You attempted to get up, but Dabi was quick to pull you back into bed, laying you down on his chest. The warmth of his skin, paired with the calm and steady thump of his heart, nearly immediately lulled you to sleep.

"Nap first. Hygiene later."

[gojoest]

thinking about pegging satoru and i cum a little just picturing the view of him looking back over his shoulder at the way you dive your strap inside him. he’s so nervous at first but it starts to feel really good now he reaches back and grabs his ass, arches his back and sticks his ass out a little all while spreading his cheeks for you, watching it go in and out, sweating and whimpering as your roles are reversed and now he’s the one holding onto the headboard…….

[diodellet]

alone time (simeon x gn!reader)

i finally got simeon's first memory ssr, his paws 2 UR, but i couldnt scrounge up enough DV to pull for his dia de los muertos UR… honestly who decided to keep giving him UR cards?? content warning for stuff under the cut: -drugging (it's kinda ambiguous aka: this could be read as an accident or intentional, but it's still drugging) -non-consensual somnophilia, non-consensual sex (i mean even if the reader does have feelings for him, they didn't explicitly consent to being touched.) ++lots of foreplay and jealous pining, body worship and praise, some dacryphilia, and morally gray simeon word count 2.2k words minors don't interact

He tells himself that it was a mistake. That he just accidentally grabbed the same herbal tea as that one night when you slept over in Purgatory Hall. But he couldn't just throw out an entire pot of tea, could he?

He had to admit though, seeing you struggle to fight off drowsiness, seeing you blink and rub at your eyes to stay focused on the conversation, seeing you try to—but ultimately fail at—stifling your yawns. It was endearing.

And besides, this kind of tea wasn't a sleeping draught. Nothing at all like the kind that Lucifer would use to treat his chronic insomnia. No, it was a relaxant, making the drinker more aware of their exhaustion, more receptive to the idea of rest and recuperation.

That meant you were more tired than you let on.

"...sorry, Simeon. I—" The enth yawn interrupted your sentence, "—I think I need to rest my eyes..." Moving your empty teacup aside, you propped your elbow up against the armrest, leaning your chin into your palm. But your efforts to stay awake were to no avail, you soon realized. "...On second thought, I didn't realize I was so sleepy..." Your words slowed to a snail's pace, before you fell silent. Your eyes slid shut.

"Just let me put these away for a moment. I'll walk you back," he reassured you with a soft smile gracing his lips.

Your voice came out muffled from how you were resting your head. "...thanks..." you hummed.

He rose from his seat to take the used teacups and teapot to the kitchen area. When he returned, you were still in the same position you fell asleep in. It didn't look comfortable, especially not for your neck.

He took a step closer to you, brushing the tips of his fingers against your shoulder. Noticing the slow rise and fall of your chest, he hesitated before trying to wake you. Should he instead let you rest for a little longer, he wondered.

Well, more than that, he couldn't just leave you lying like that.

He called your name softly, "sorry, let me help you get more comfortable..." Taking a seat next to you, he gently pulled you up into a sitting position. One hand supported your shoulder and the other your midsection. Your back rested against his chest. Your head lolled against him now that you were fully asleep. His hand rose to card his gloved fingers through the unruly locks of your hair, tracing the curve of your ear, following the line of your jaw, then finally coming to stop just shy of your lips—

He laid you out on the sofa, making sure to keep your head propped up against one of the throw pillows. Now that your legs were stretched out, you wouldn't end up painfully sore once you woke up from your nap.

(Or he could have just awoken you normally. Watched you stir back into lucidity, watched you blink up at him with bleary eyes before taking his hand and letting him walk you back to the House of Lamentation. Maybe you would have leaned against him and asked if the both of you could take your time, slowed your stride and let this time together stretch on for as long as it could. You hardly ever took the initiative to be upfront with him, always a little shaky or anxious when in his company.)

Despite your shy and reserved nature, he could remember multiple times where you've shown that you were anything but that: a time when he wasn't sure if you had changed your cologne or your soap. When asked about it, you hid a sheepish expression behind your hand and said it was a gift from Asmodeus. There were several times where you've shared granola bars, sandwiches (that he made for you), crackers, sweets (made by Luke) all sorts of snacks with Beelzebub and Belphegor. There were plenty of times where Mammon and Lucifer got to have you to themselves, easily calling you to their side or making plans with you out of the blue. Even when it came to mundane conversation, you would always bring up book recommendations from Satan or mention something from a TV series that Leviathan's been following.

Rarely ever did he get to see you like this. He always made sure to keep a respectable amount of distance between you two. He had seen the way the demon brothers would glare anyone who stepped too close to you, who put themselves too far into your personal bubble. But for some...unknown—maybe, divine or even mystical—reason, the both of you would find yourselves together like this. Close to each other with no demon brothers, nor that sorcerer, and especially not that young angel around to interrupt. Now was the perfect chance for him to leave his own mark on you, wasn't it?

A small groan escaped your lips and your brows furrowed, disturbing the peaceful expression on your features. Simeon stiffened, his hold tightening on you for a fraction of a second. He should stop, he should stop doing this right now—

His breath hitched. "A-ah...sorry I—"

You shifted, almost nuzzling against him. Through the thin barrier of your clothes, the heat from your body felt like a brand against his skin and yet he didn't want to let go of you. His hands slipped underneath your shirt, mapping out the soft flesh of your midriff, rising higher to splay his fingers over where your heart was. He could feel his pulse thumping wildly in his chest, while your own was steady.

"...Mm...Belphie... too hot..." you mumbled, pulling away. Or well, you would have, if you weren't caged in Simeon's arms.

His earlier alarm morphed into something uglier. Something more twisted, something downright possessive.

That wasn't right. You were supposed to be calling his name.

His hand cupped your chest, he marveled at how it fit into his palm. His fingers stroked and teased your nipple erect. Gently tugging at it and rolling it between the digits. Simeon gauged your expression, how your jaw tightened and your body tensed up. A shuddering moan escaped your lips, but you remained unconscious. How he wanted to map out every inch of your skin, to worship your body with his hands and mouth.

Maybe you weren't completely unconscious, your body was aware of these sensations and it was reacting to him, to his touch. Welcoming him.

Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he breathed in your scent once again.

His pants grew tight, he couldn't ignore his building arousal anymore. Pushing the hem of your shirt up, he pressed his lips to your sternum, the base of your ribcage, slowly rising to wrap his lips around your nipple and laving it with his tongue. His other hand doesn't stop toying with the other nub. From his ministrations, your breathing quickened and your cheeks flushed, the color spreading down to your neck.

He needed to stop now before it got too much, before you woke up but—

You were pushing against him for more, rutting your hips against him.

He pulled away and released the nub, now shiny with spit and red from stimulation. One of your hands is fisted in the fabric of the sofa cushions. Your expression has given way to a small frown. But the most important thing was that you were still unconscious.

God, he wanted more of you. He couldn't just stop now.

The exhale that escaped his lips did little to relieve his rising guilt. And furthermore in spite of that, he was painfully hard. He unbuttoned his pants and moved to free his cock before stopping in his tracks. His gloves—he clumsily yanked them off and tossed them in the direction of the coffee table. Now without the barrier of the fabric separating him from you, the contact of his bare skin against you set his nerves alight. He pressed his palm against your stomach, digging his fingers in and soaking up every bit of warmth radiating from your skin.

His other hand wrapped around his erection, stroking up and down. he bit back a groan at the welcome friction. His pace quickened, his arousal spilled onto the skin just below your navel.

What would it feel like inside you? He doubted you would feel anything less than divine around him. If you were awake, what kind of expression would you be making right now? Would you be staring at him or would you be peeking at him through the gaps of your fingers? Or were you the more impatient type, equally desperate to touch him while whining for more?

Either way, the sight of you under him was breathtaking. You were breathtaking.

"...hm...?" Simeon froze at the sound of the questioning hum that left your lips. His clean hand slapped over his mouth, did he say that last part aloud? His body continued to betray his baser instincts despite his mortification. The tip of his cock continued to leak, creating a small pool of arousal on your skin.

His pulse thundered in his ears as he waited to see if you continued to stir. When you didn't, before his guilt could fully stop him—

He already pulled your pants down and lined his cock up to your entrance. A hushed litany of apologies spilled from his lips, but he couldn't make do with just his hand. But he wouldn't penetrate you fully, no, he didn't want to hurt you, he just...

...needed a little more.

He couldn't hold back the low moan that rumbled from his chest as he pushed into your entrance. Your walls, albeit relaxed, still clenched tightly around him. One of his hands settled onto your waist and the other braced against the spot beside your head. Puffs of your breath met the skin of his inner wrist, warm and steady, occasionally hitching as he brushed against—what he presumed to be—your sensitive spots. His gaze lowered to where the two of you were connected.

Mesmerized, he wondered if you could fit more of him.

"Ngh..." A quiet curse left his lips. The thought was too lewd to imagine, he paused and let the spike of arousal pass before he continued to slide into you. When at least less than half of his cock was inside you, he would pull out and repeat the process again. Gentle, careful, methodical, in spite of his growing impatience. With slow and shallow thrusts, he was eventually met with little resistance.

You were doing so well, opening up for him while continuing to suck him back into your warmth. Quiet praises mixed with moans escaped from him. He moved to brush the messy strands of hair out of your face to gaze at your expression. Could you come just from this? Was there a chance of you both being able to come together like this?

You stirred at the touch, his hand moved to your cheek and he let his thumb rest on your bottom lip—

Your eyes fluttered open and you blinked up at him. "Huh... Simeon...?"

Drawn out of his languor, he yanked his hand away as if burned. "Ah...this...this isn't what it looks like—" His sentences were fragmented. Scattered. Disjointed.

You moved to sit up before you froze, slowly becoming aware of the sensation beneath your hips. "W-what's...happeni—" Your words cut off with a gasp. You tightened even more around his cock. His fingers dug into your waist, leaving marks.

Try as he might, he couldn't respond. His eyes squeezed shut at the sudden overwhelming tightness that engulfed him. He couldn't stop from sinking deeper into you.

You pushed at his shoulder, limbs still heavy with sleep. "Wait...s-stop...!" Your breathing hitched for a second time. "Simeon...please stop—" Your words tapered off into a pained whine as his dick brushed against your inner walls. Your hand clutched at his wrist, nails digging into his skin.

Lethargy still clung to you. The gesture didn't hurt a single bit, only leaving faint crescent-shaped imprints.

The desperate note in your words brought him to meet your gaze. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. His hand came up to brush them away before pushing you back down against the sofa. He briefly pulled out of you, he was close—so close to coming. "I'm sorry, please bear with me..." His lips brushed against the pulse point of your inner wrist in an apologetic gesture.

Your eyes widened in realization and you shook your head. "N-no, it won't fit, it won't fit—" You squirmed in his hold. "Please don't, please—I promise I won't tell anyone about this..." Your voice grew thick, more tears streamed down your cheeks.

Your pleas fell on deaf ears as his hand slid down your waist to hook against the back of your knee, curling your leg around his waist. The tip of his dick rubbed against your hole, making you reflexively twitch at the sensation.

He leaned closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours. "It'll feel good, I promise," he reassured you gently before lacing your fingers together with his.

confession: as I was writing the fuckening part... unholy suddenly came on. is it a coincidence or--

[delopsia]

Storm Warning | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,100  Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB Reader. The reader does wear a skirt in this one, pegging, outdoor sex, cunnilingus, thunderstorms, fucking Rhett while he wears nothing but his chaps, and mentions of food. Brief Summary: There is nothing quite like bending Rhett Abbott over and fucking him in the south pasture, where nobody but you can hear him.

The thing about Wabang is that you can see a storm coming from miles away. This little, middle-of-nowhere town cozies right on up to the Tetons, a grand collection of mountains that occupy a good portion of the eastern skies. But the west is unoccupied, offers a full, unobstructed view of the sky, including all of the clouds that will soon pass overhead.

Which is exactly why you should have seen that dark collection of clouds in the distance. 

You could have seen it when you peered out your window before you left. Had ample opportunity to spot the looming danger when you drove over here; these roads are winding anything but interesting. Why could your eyes have wandered into the distance at least once?

Why is it that you only noticed them once you were halfway into the Abbott's south pasture? 

Your small backpack feels like it's been filled with cement, weighing heavily on your shoulders. The breeze of the storm has yet to blow in, but once it does, you're sure you'll be regretting this short skirt. The perfect design for flying upward the moment it catches on air. 

In the distance, Rhett's truck is coming into view. That old blue pickup was clean when it left your driveway this morning, but the undercarriage now carries a generous adornment of dirt. The poor thing can never be clean for more than a couple of hours. 

It takes some more walking to find Rhett. A long way from his vehicle, down on one knee, working on the same fence he was swearing about when he left. You've never worked on this ranch a day in your life, but even you know that if there's an issue with a fence, it's the south one. 

He doesn't hear you as you approach. Absent-mindedly whistling a tune as you come to a stop behind him, so focused that he no longer registers what's going on around him. His head turns, peering off toward the same storm you were looking at as you stumbled down here. 

"Some storm, huh?" 

Rhett jolts. Twisting so fast that he falls off balance, landing on his ass. 

"The hell?" The confusion laced in his tone is strong, but he's already beginning to get up, arms opened wide, welcoming you to step into them. "How long you been back there?" 

He's warm. Always is, but you didn't expect him to be a furnace. Soft and cozy, has you resisting the urge to wrap him up tight and take him home to snuggle on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. Royal and the ranch be damned. "Thirty seconds, give or take." 

Rhett's hands wander. 

Smoothing down your waist, the rough material of his gloves catching on your clothes as they drag their way down to the edge of your skirt. There's no way he can feel what you're wearing beneath, but his brows furrow like he's caught whiff of your plan.

"Somethin' tells me you ain't out here to bring me lunch," he asks, beneath his breath. Quiet, like someone may hear him all the way out here. 

"I thought we were past the buying dinner stage?" You can feel him worming his hands from his gloves, desperate to explore. Piece together just what you're doing out here. 

A sweaty palm ventures up your thigh, roaming up to your ass. His breath catches. "Are you..." Fingers digging beneath the thick elastic, hugging your hips, pulling and letting it snap back against your skin. His head swivels, looking behind himself, then beyond your head. Looking for someone. Anyone. "Here?"

Shrugging your shoulders. Feigning innocence. As if you've stumbled up here by mere accident. "Worried someone could hear you, cowboy?"

His Adam's apple bobs, teeth sinking into that thin bottom lip. 

Gingerly, you allow your touch to wander. Greedy hands running down his sweaty back, past the thick leather of his chaps, not stopping until you can comfortably squeeze his ass. Lulls a weary grunt from his throat. 

Without a word, he leans in. Nose bumping into yours. Eyes as dark as the storm brewing in the distance. That tear in the barbed wire fence long forgotten, all in favor of leaning in, open mouth meeting your own. 

There's still seasoning on his lips from the pork rinds he's had stashed in the glove box. Strong against your tongue as his hands travel your body. Up your sides, between your shoulder blades, back down to your ass, pawing at your exposed thighs. Can't figure out what he wants to hang onto.

And you can't complain because your hands have no shame. Already tugging at his shirt, pulling it out from where he's tucked it into his jeans, and reaching beneath. Feeling the soft ripple of muscle against your palm, heaving in tune with his chest. 

"Gonna have to be quick with me, darlin'," Rhett's speaking into your mouth, "that storms fixin' to be here."

"Can you feel it in your bones, old man?" You already know the answer to that; his left shoulder aches whenever bad weather is imminent. A gift from the time he tore it up, falling off a bull. 

His chest rumbles with a deep hum, "Sure can." And there might be a follow-up sentence to that because his mouth opens, tongue heavy with a jumble of words that never make it out. Silenced the moment your palm drops to press against a rapidly hardening bulge. His bottom lip quivers, "fuck."

Isn't his face just pretty? Jaw lax, eyes closed, lost in the way you map him out through his jeans. It's hard to feel through this thick material, but you think you can feel him twitch against you when you lean in to nibble at his unshaven jaw. Worrying the skin with your teeth until it's pink. 

"Rub me a 'lil harder, doll," he breathes, voice carried by the wind, "Can hardly feel—ah."

Grinding the heel of your palm into him, up and down, relishing in the way he grows beneath your touch. God, you don't know what you did to wind up with a cowboy who is always so eager for you, but you're forever thankful for it. He's reaching down, thumbing open his buckle, and pulling his belt for you. Makes it so easy to slip your hand past his waistband, wrapping careful fingers around his heavy cock. 

His lips part with a gasp. "How?" 

You know what he's asking, but playing coy is much more fun than immediately answering. "How what?"

"Like how..." head tilts back a fraction as you draw him out of his jeans. Flushed tip already beginning to leak for you, shining in the rapidly disappearing sunlight. "In the truck?" 

"I was thinking..." Leaning in, your lips ghosting his ear as you purr into it, "Right here." 

A visible shiver rattles down his spine. Shakes his whole body with it. And he's wordless as he starts to fumble with his clothes. Leaves his shirt alone as he toes out of his boots while you slip your backpack from your shoulders, fishing out the thin blanket you packed. As you spread it out against the ground, Rhett's hitching his thumbs beneath his waistband and yanking everything down. Boxers, jeans, and chaps, all in one go. 

Only pauses once he's gotten them off one ankle, his face scrunching with a thought.

"What?" You're freezing; is someone coming?

It takes him a moment. Brows furrowed, confused about something. "Can feel the breeze on my dick," he finally says, starting to move again, "'s a real weird feelin'."

If you roll your eyes any harder, you fear they'll get stuck in the back of your head. As you roll them, though, you catch glimpse of his chaps laying neglected on the ground. Dirty and tattered from years of use, always manage to frame his ass in just the right way.

Rhett's following your gaze, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Glances back to look at your face, then back to his pile of clothes again. "Did you want me to keep them on?"

"Won't they be uncomfortable without jeans?" An indirect yes, if one were to squint, but it's a question that's been brewing in your head regardless. 

"Probably," with a half-hearted shrug, he reaches for them. Shaking them free of his jeans and slipping them back on, the leather gliding past pale legs and thick thighs like they're paid to do it. 

All that's left is his shirt, still buttoned and concealing his wonderfully broad shoulders from view. Shoulders that are so easy to grab ahold of, guiding him to settle next to you. You only mean to lean closer to see what you're doing as you fumble with the buttons, but Rhett's leaning in, and what could a few more kisses hurt?

His breath is already ragged, makes it hard to keep your mouths together for more than a few seconds at a time. Needy lockings of lips, your hands coming to settle against his nape as his careful teeth nip at you. Insistent, soothing over every nip with his tongue. His arm is winding around your waist, drawing you closer. 

And here you are, out in the south pasture, both of you on your knees, heaving chests pressed together as your burning tongues meet. Sloppy and fleeting because that thunder is rolling in the distance, and you don't have time for deepened kisses that leave your head spinning.

One of the hands resting on his nape drops to push between his shoulder blades, gently urging him to move. And oh, does he follow. Lets you guide him into the position you want him in, doesn't fuss as you downright manhandle him. 

You should have brought a Polaroid camera. Used up an entire pack of film, taking picture after picture of this. 

Rhett's cheek rests against the blanket, stormy blue eyes peering back at you, pale ass high in the air, heavy cock hanging low between his thighs. On display, for your eyes only. 

His hips squirm back and forth, grumbling to himself all the while, "Y'plannin' to just sit 'n  stare?"

"You nervous, cowboy?" Chirping as you lean down, your body curving to fit against his whilst your lips press to the sensitive space along the back of his neck. 

He grumbles, arching back into your touch. Chasing the kisses that you press to his skin. "Just a lil bit."

He's so unbelievably warm. Burning against your lips as you work your mouth down his back, licking down the bumps of his spine, feeling him squirm. One of your hands drops down, wrapping around his forgotten cock, and he jolts. 

"Sensitive," musing aloud, loosely pumping him as you press kisses to the dimples in his spine. The left one is more visible than the other, and if it weren't for knowledge gathered from previous ventures, you'd think he only had one. 

His hips wriggle forward, trying to urge you faster, "Uhuh." Only for you to let go of him in favor of dipping into your bag in search of the lube.

And oh, does he fuss.

Whining high in his throat, a soft "no, no, no, no," dancing off his tongue. Wants, needs more attention. Attention that you're not giving him. 

"Hold on, hold on," pressing another kiss to his skin, drizzling the lube over your palm, "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Just as quickly as it left, your hand is wrapping around him again. Stroking the lubricant over his throbbing length, listening to the pleased sigh that you work out of him. You can't see what you're doing, but you can hear it. Lube squelching with your movements, audible as your thumb traces the sensitive underside of his cock head. Working back and forth. 

Rhett's hips jerk forward, "fuck."  Squirming away as you chase him down, determined to keep your thumb there, "Stop, stop, that's—shit, that's sen...sensitive." 

"Just a minute ago, you didn't want me to let go," cooing, the faintest of smiles ghosting your lips as you watch him writhe. 

You think he might buck you off like those bulls he rides every weekend. Hips thrashing side to side, babbling to himself as you work that sensitive spot over and over, "'M gonna cum if y'keep—" his own whine cuts his words short, "if y'keep doing that!"

Just like that, you let go of him entirely. 

The tips of his ears flame with crimson, spreading down his neck. Your line of sight follows, trailing down the expanse of his back, not stopping until your eyes greedily rake over his ass and thighs. Presented high in the air for you, still trembling from your sudden burst of attention. Chaps loosely clinging to his thighs, framing his ass. 

It's impossible to resist running your palm up him, feeling the soft flesh beneath your touch. So squishy and grabbable. Rhett grumbles, a deep noise you near mistake for thunder, wriggling his hips back and forth. Impatient. 

"Alright, alright," leaving his ass alone, you reach for the lube again, recoating your fingers. 

The first nudge of your fingers at his entrance has him squirming again. Wriggling away from the ticklish sensation of your index finger massaging around the thick ring of muscle there. You don't need to ask him to stop wriggling away; he'll stop once he's gotten himself over the foreignness of it all. Always needs a minute to adjust. 

And he does. Gradually stilling to a halt, pliant for you once more, as one of your fingers press in. 

"Atta boy," leaning down to press a kiss to his ass. A vague distraction as you ease into him, enthralled by how he flutters around you. It's an easy glide; he's still somewhat loose from your ventures yesterday morning when he sidled up behind you and blatantly asked if he could ride you. 

"C'n add 'nother," he garbles, cheek squishing against the blanket, as he cranes his head to look back at you. 

If it weren't for the thunder in the distance, reminding you of its presence, you'd argue. But you're short on time, and he takes this second finger so easily that you can hardly worry about hurting him. Your angle shifts, fingers crooking, massaging past a rubbery button on their next thrust in. 

Rhett jumps, an invisible bolt of lightning rattling up his back. 

In and out, your talented fingers work him open. Know exactly what to do, indirectly massaging his prostate because directly toying with it is too much for the poor cowboy. A third finger slips in just as easily as the second, feeling him stretch around you, loosening with every motion. It's enough to have him squirming back into your touch, chasing the feeling of your fingers fucking into him, breath heavy. 

"Think 'm good," he sighs, and you can't see his face from this angle, but you're sure that his eyes have long since closed. Relaxed. 

You were about to ask him the same thing, but yet, you're double-checking anyway. "You're sure?"

His head nods. "Uhuh." But he whines as you pull your fingers out of him, upset by the loss of contact. Hips swaying back and forth like he's trying to entice you into hurrying up. 

To his credit, it's working. 

There are two toys in this bag of yours, clean and safely tucked away in their proper containers. One is bright purple, sitting on the longer side, with soft ridges that easily made it one of Rhett's favorites from the get-go. But the other is jet black, not quite as long as the purple, but it's thicker, another one of his favorites. 

"You have options—"

"Did y'bring the black one?" So eager that he's cutting you off. Knows exactly what he wants. 

And so, the black one it is. 

You don't need to respond because Rhett sees it as you take it out, his foot excitedly beginning to bounce. A cool breeze blows past as you slide the toy past the ring, securing it into place. A cruel reminder of the time crunch you're on and how you really need to hurry with lubing this up. 

But soon enough, you're curling a hand around Rhett's boney hip, holding it as you tap the head of the toy to his entrance. Listening to his breath catch in his throat, watching him impatiently squirm back into it. 

"Hurry up," those blue eyes peer over his shoulder, darker than they were the last time you saw them. 

Gingerly, you press in, watching in awe at how he opens up for it, slowly stretching for the thick tip. From here, you can see how his mouth falls open, silent as the head fully slips inside. You can only imagine that this must be what he sees when he's got you in this same position. His hand scrambles for the edge of the blanket, squeezing it in his fist as you push in.

"You doing alright, cowboy?" Smoothing your hand up his back as you speak. 

"Want somethin' to hang onto," he whines, letting go of the blanket in favor of clawing at the grass. But it doesn't last, thin blades of green breaking away from the ground in seconds. Leaning down, you brace one palm against the ground, both bearing your weight and letting him grab ahold of your wrist. 

That's all he was looking for. Squeezes it as you slide the rest of the way in until your hips are flush together. Nothing left for him to take. 

You've just checked on him, but you're pressing a kiss to his shoulder and murmuring another question, "How do you feel?"

"'M fuckin..."  he's panting, needs a moment to gather his breath, "full." Another breath, and then, "Move."

Delicately, you draw back the tiniest bit, hardly moving an inch as you practically roll your hips into him. Working purely on the memory of what he does when he's in you. Careful at first, allowing you the chance to work up to those heavy thrusts that knock the air out of your lungs. 

Pulling back just a little more now, watching it disappear back inside of him. A soft noise spills out of his mouth, tiny and barely there. And you must be doing something right because he's louder on this next thrust in, squeezing your wrist a little tighter. 

On its own, your other hand presses into the space between his shoulder blades, seeking balance, pushing his chest further to the ground. Only a slight shift in your angle, and yet—

"There!" Rhett all but howls, jerking beneath you. "Fuck, fuck, right there." 

He's trying to look back at you, but every pass of this silicone cock over his prostate has his eyes fluttering shut, stormy blues rolling into the back of his head. The fringes of his chaps sway with your movements, bouncing back to tickle your bare thigh. It's such a shame he doesn't have his hat on him; you'd love to make him wear it through this.

Rhett's letting go of your wrist all of a sudden, clawing at the blanket, threatening to rip the material. Little grunts punched out of him on every thrust, fighting to keep himself quiet. 

"Let me hear you, sweet boy," you coo as you lean back, properly holding his hips with both hands now. Finding your rhythm as the thunder rumbles once more, "It's just us out here."

And he all but cries out into the open air, a dam burst. Quivering as he pushes back, meeting your thrusts, skin lewdly slapping together. Such a dizzying noise that you can feel heat blossom between your legs, growing wet just from this. The sound of him. Fuck, the sight of him.

His back covered in a thin sheen of sweat, pale skin a stark contrast to the world around him. Ass still high in the air for you, the dark silicone of this toy disappearing into his greedy hole, lube squelching. So mesmerizing that it makes the view of the Teton's overhead look like a damn joke. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he babbles, and his leg is starting to kick again; the toy rubbing directly into his sensitive prostate. Doesn't know what to do with the feeling, "More. Please—more."

Your hand disappears past his belly, wrapping around his neglected cock, swinging heavily between his thighs. Throbs as you begin to stroke him, precum dripping into your hand like a leaky faucet. "Is this what you want?" 

"Want...want..." his head thrashes, fighting for words. "Back. On my back." 

A strong gust of wind rips past as you pull out, has Rhett's hair blowing into his face as he rolls over. He's trying to push it away, but it's clinging to his cheeks, wet with... tears? Sweat?

"Rhett?" You can feel your face fall as you reach out, stroking those dark brown strands back behind his ears. "Are you...?"

His eyes are swollen. A little watery, "Jus' feel good," he smiles, his legs parting for you to fit between, "promise."

When you don't immediately move, he reaches down, taking hold of the toy and guiding it to his stretched entrance. Determined to get you back inside of him. And when you still don't move, he whines with all the impatience and frustration he can possibly muster. "Please?"

So convincing. 

Pushing into him is much easier this time around. Sliding to the hilt without a hitch, his thighs squeezing your hips, arms winding around your shoulders. Determined to keep you close as you begin to move again.

"Better?" You grunt, moving to brace your forearms on either side of his head, bracketing him in. 

"So much better," his words are rushed, head tilting back. Those tears well in his eyes once more, brought on by the pressure massaging against his prostate, over and over. 

Dull nails bite into your shoulders as you regain your rhythm, stinging, threatening to leave marks. It should hurt, but the only thing it does is make you needier. Fucking into him with a purpose, eager to see him cum all over his belly. 

"Touch yourself for me, Rhett," it's hard to tell who is panting harder, thunder booming in the distance. 

Rhett's hand falls off your shoulder, reaching for his forgotten cock, the head flushed a dark, angry red. Moans at his own touch, looking down at the sight between his legs. Your hips working in and out of him, the edge of that toy emerging only to thrust back in, his cock dribbling a pool of precum onto his belly. 

He whimpers. 

"'M gonna," head dropping back, "'M sorry—gonna, gonna cum." 

But that's what you wanted. To see the shiver emerge from his muscles as he works his own cock. To feel how he can hardly keep his legs around your hips. To hear how his breath catches and how he moans open and loud. The little oh's that you punch out of him on every thrust. Unable to hold a single thing back as he gets closer and closer. 

Leaning back a little, you look down; his hand can hardly stay around his cock. "Cum for me, cowboy." 

One. Two. Three more pumps of your hips, and his back is arching up off the blanket. Nails digging into your shoulder as he cums with a cry. His hips spasming, cum painting his hand and belly with ropes of white. Eyes shut, face lax. 

You can only fuck him through it, burning the sight behind your eyelids all the while. 

As soon as it passes, you're slowing to a halt. Not quite pulling out of him yet, not until he asks you to. But until then, your hands are free to comb through his tangled hair, scratching his scalp. His head has yet to come back down from the clouds, legs still clinging to your hips, anchoring you to him.  

Those thin lips break into a smile, eyes not quite opening yet, "I still vote that we have lunch."

"Sure," your eyes roll, "what do you want? Grass?"

One eye peeks open as if to make sure you're still there. Only to snap shut the moment you make eye contact with him. "How 'bout tree leaves?"

Lightning flashes. Thunder following in hot pursuit, booming, shaking the ground.

That's got you both moving. Rhett lets go of you, mouth falling open as you delicately pull out of him. There's hardly any time for him to adjust to the sudden emptiness, the wind whipping around you with such force that you're surprised it doesn't lift you off the ground. 

You're fumbling to put away the toy and the blanket, Rhett's wrestling with his jeans, and you're both moving so frantically that nothing is happening fast at all. You can't get ahold of the bag for the toy; Rhett's long since fallen on his ass, fighting to get his boot on.

"This shits goin' terribly," he chuckles, tugging the boot past his heel. 

As soon as you get moving, rain begins to fall. Coming down in thick, white sheets that obstruct everything in sight. Rhett's got ahold of your hand, tugging you along through the downpour, yelling something that you can't make out. Bag bouncing on your shoulders as you all but tumble down the south pasture in search of his truck. 

 You don't realize you've found it until you're halfway inside, practically throwing yourselves into the safety of the old GMC. Drenched from head to toe, the cloth seats soaking up every drop of water that falls from you. 

On the dash, Rhett's phone flashes with a storm warning. Incessant. Demanding that it be read before it allows itself to be dismissed from his notifications. 

"Damn storm," all of a sudden, Rhett's taking hold of your legs and hauling them up onto the seat, "stealin' all my fun."

Your back hits the door with a thump. "What are you doing?" 

Rhett's reaching beneath your skirt, hitching his fingers beneath the elastic of the strap-on harness. Yanks it down without warning or notice, tossing it onto his cracked dashboard. "Told you," knocking your thighs apart, leaning down onto his forearms, "'m fuckin' hungry."

And that's the last thing he says before you feel hot breath fan out over your dripping sex. He doesn't bother with pushing your skirt back, letting it fall against his face as he licks a fat, wet stripe up your folds. 

"Jesus, Rhett," gasping, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

He hums, the noise vibrating into you as he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. Wastes no time, lavishing it with attention, smiles into you when your thighs squeeze his shoulders. "Always taste so good." 

Your hand trembles as you reach down to pull your skirt out of the way. Blue eyes flash up at you, grinning. That burning tongue travels down, lapping lazily at your entrance, pushing inside just to feel you flutter around him. Drooling as he works it deep inside, saliva dripping down onto your thighs, the tip of his nose bumping into your clit. 

"Good boy," the back of your head knocks into the window, uncaring of how the storm shakes the truck. Petting the side of his wet cheek as he squirms closer, his face absolutely buried in your pussy.

"Been wantin' this all damn day," he's speaking directly into you as he licks up, up, up, back to where you want him most. A big hand settles on your hip, forcing you into stillness, gives you no choice but to let him have what he wants. 

The thunder is nothing compared to your whimper that bounces around the inside of the cab, loud and needy, heat pooling between your legs as that tongue of his works you over. Calloused fingers nudge at your dripping entrance, two tracing the thin rim before slipping inside. Thick. Already wet from the saliva pouring out of his eager mouth. 

They push up, feeling along the inside of your pussy until they find a familiar spot that has you jumping, a bolt of lightning rippling up your spine. Spiraling into it in tune with his tongue, kitten-licking at you. His eyes have long since shut, practically smiling as you writhe.

You can hardly keep yourself quiet, panting, whining; it's so much, so fast, all at once. Hadn't had any time to prepare before he pounced on you, already sensitive and needy just from fucking him into the ground. Something is coiling, heating up, has your heart pounding away at your chest. 

"Rhett," only now do you realize you've been babbling his name under your breath, "Rhett, I'm gonna—"

"Cum on my face, doll," he's panting, words muffled by your cunt, "please, cum for me."

Without further warning, it hits you. 

Eyes screwing shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pulsing around those two fingers, thighs locking around this cowboy of yours, back arching off the door. Rhett's moaning into you, feels you convulse against him, and he's still not stopping. Licking you through it until your leg is twitching, kicking him away from your oversensitive, abused clit. 

On the dash, his phone buzzes again, insistent that you acknowledge the warning about a storm that's already here. But it's still not enough to distract from the way you both pant for breath, starved for oxygen. 

Weakly, Rhett laughs. A breathy little sound that hardly gets past his lips. "Was that too much?"

"Has it ever been too much?" Reaching out with a shaky hand, tucking his hair behind his soft ear. 

His chin is absolutely dripping. Wetter than the rest of him, if that's even possible. You can only imagine what he's seeing; your quivering legs still parted, on display for his eyes only. Even your skirt can't block his view. 

"Are you still..." God, your head feels like it's about to fall off your shoulders, "how does going to that new diner in town sound?" 

"I like the sound of that," as he speaks, you think you can hear his stomach growl, "but I can't promise I won't want a second desert." 

Now that you think about it, you're not sure which storm Rhett's phone is warning you about. Because while the angry wind rocks the truck back and forth, and hail begins to beat at the window, it doesn't quite compare to the cowboy across from you. Tired for now, too spent to go any further, but there's a spark blooming behind his eyes that suggests he's only getting started. 

Maybe it's a good thing that you didn't see that dark collection of clouds until it was too late.

[benkeibear]

sending u character and a kink heehee

inumaki and prostate milking :P

loveee yewrrrrr <3

NINE YOU- I- HELLO YES

Inumaki wasn't sure at first when you proposed the idea of pegging him but to hell with his anxiety, you promised that it will feel good so he trusted you on that. You made him lay on his stomach, a pillow propped under his hips to elevate his behind slightly. You didn't want to tease him much this time, wanting to show him a new kind of pleasure but his cheeks were bright red when you started kneading his ass before applying some lube right onto his puckered hole, giggling at his reaction to the cold liquid.

You spent a long time working him open with your fingers and a small dildo, getting him used to the feeling of something inside of him but by the way he drooled and whimpered you could tell that he enjoyed it. He was begging to finally let him cum when you turned him onto his back "we didn't even reach the main event yet, my sweet boy" you cooed, already wearing the strap as you pushed his thighs towards his chest, making sure to squirt some more lube onto his ass before sliding in easily. "Look how desperate you are. Swallowing me completely" you tease him, the strap much bigger than the toy you used to prep him with but it still went in so easily.

His dick was twitching wildly when you bottomed out, small thrusts already driving him insane and when you started to properly fuck him, poor Inumaki couldn't take it anymore, painting his abs in his own seed as your name was moaned like a lewd prayer. "We're not done here yet, good boy" you coo, running your hand through his hair to give him a small break before thrusting into him again at the same brutal pace.

[griffinkid]

I brought Peg out for pizza

[bewilderedbunny]

Not in all seriousness- we should further discuss Eddie’s hole. We need to be championing the hole movement

Thank you for bringing this up. Eddie's hole is a topic I'm very passionate about. Look at this face and tell me he's not begging for a pegging:

[main-clown]

Listen I know that canonically he is bad in bed but um

Yeah well um

I’d peg this man uh huh

[shig-a-shig-ah]

ONE, TWO, WRECKED.

You talk Shigaraki into giving you a show with a double of himself, and he winds up testing his limits in tantalizing new ways. 

» pairing: Shigaraki Tomura² x afab!reader » word count: 4.5k » notes: This fic is my entry for @dabisqueen​‘s Holy Trinity collab. Hope y’all enjoy--I put my whole pussy into this. » contains: gn!pronouns, switch!Shigaraki, threesome, selfcest, fingering, cunnilingus, blowjobs, pegging, double penetration (Shigaraki receiving), simultaneous orgasms. 18+, minors DNI. » ao3 mirror

"Wait."

"What?"

"Is this really how you start?"

"How am I—how are we supposed to start?"

"I don't know. I guess I expected some buildup or something before you jumped right into it."

You probably shouldn't have expected that—shouldn't be at all surprised that Tomura had gone straight to stripping. You know he's done this before—more frequently and thoroughly than he's let on, you suspect—but he still seems eager to get it over with, is clearly embarrassed by the position you've talked him into, kneeling on your bed with another version of himself only two feet away. They're both shirtless, hands paused halfway through the motions of undoing their pants. The only difference between them is that Tomura—the real one—huffs at your comment.

"It's jerking off, not making love or some shit. It doesn't need foreplay."

"Is that why we used to catch you limping around?"

"Shut up," he grumbles, but the way his cheeks heat up make you think there's more truth to your statement than he wants to admit. He glares resignedly between you and his double. "What were you thinking?"

You'd been intent on just watching them to start—that's half the point, after all, is what you'd spent weeks and weeks talking Tomura into after learning just how he used to abuse Twice's Quirk before you came along. In this case, though, it seems easier to show than tell. So, you scoot forward from where you've been sitting. Lean in to kiss him, soft and slow, teasing at his lower lip with your tongue before you pull away and turn to his clone, repeating that motion as Tomura watches on.

Then you sit back on your heels, gesturing between the two of them. Tomura's eyes widen when he gets what you're suggesting, and you pout at him before he can argue.

"C'mon, you promised me a good show."

"Fine," he mutters, shifting a little closer to his other self. It's wearing the same unenthusiastic expression, has the same pink flush to its cheek, but the half-formed bulges in their pants make it clear they're not quite as averse to this as they're acting.

Still, neither of them see to know where to start. They pause with a few inches of space between them, hands hovering uncertainly as twin pairs of red eyes scan their respective shirtless forms, Adam's apples bobbing as they both swallow hard.

Then Tomura is letting out an impatient breath and leaning in, stiffly pressing his mouth to his double's.

They're hesitant movements at first, Tomura's eyes falling closed—largely, you suspect because he simply doesn't want to stare at himself as cracked lips explore cracked lips in entirely perfunctory fashion. You don't complain about that lack of enthusiasm, though; there's something tantalizing about the sight despite the reluctance, or maybe even because of it. Your skin is already starting to grow warm as you watch on.

That heat only worsens when Tomura's lids finally blink open so he can peer at you from the corner of his eye. Crimson irises scan over you, his brow knitting just the slightest, obviously not missing the way you've already grown flustered by the act before you.

For all his reservations, that must be enough encouragement for him. A second later his lips are curving into a devious smirk and he's reaching one hand up to yank at his double's hair, kissing it harder. His teeth nip at its lip as its eyes widen momentarily, and then it's returning that treatment, mirroring Tomura's self-satisfied expression as it tips its head to watch your reaction.

Your breath catches when their tongues lap out, escalating to sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, grunts and groans periodically punctuating the sounds of panting as their hands start to wander, yanking at tufts of white hair one moment and reaching to grope at their now-prominent arousals the next. When the double's hand finally slips beneath the waistband of Tomura's pants, Tomura's hand fists at its hair, guiding its lips roughly to his neck and turning his head to look at you, letting out a hiss when the clone sinks its teeth into his sensitive throat.

"This what you wanted?" he asks you, tone entirely self-satisfied despite his heavy breathing. He keeps his eyes locked on yours when he shoves his pants down a little, revealing the erection gripped tight in his double's hand. Then he's working the double's pants down too. Its own arousal hangs heavy, flushed at the tip and twitching slightly every time Tomura's fingers tighten in its hair.

You nod in response to his question. There's an ache growing between your legs now, your thighs clenching and wetness pooling, your hand lifting to tease at your breast through the fabric of Tomura's shirt, the only thing covering you besides the thin cotton of your underwear. You whimper quietly as you pinch and tug at one nipple.

Tomura's smug expression only worsens at that sight, and more still when his free hand works between his respective bodies. He shifts a little closer to the other version of himself, maneuvering until he manages to trade his double's grip for his own, taking them both in hand. The sound of dual groans fills the room when he starts to stroke them together. It's followed by his double's head lolling back, hips bucking into that grip, a hiss of breath slipping past its lips every time Tomura swipes his thumb over their glistening tips.

Your tongue traces over your bottom lip as your hand slips between your thighs, teasing yourself through the fabric of your underwear. For a moment, that's all there is—the heady sight before you and the faint sounds of the Tomuras grunting and whining as they continue their ministrations, teeth nipping at identical patches of pale skin as they rut into a single large fist, both sets of crimson eyes constantly surveying your response.

It's not long before Tomura grows impatient with the performance, though, until he obviously wants something more than this display that's largely for your benefit. Then he's releasing his grip and fisting at his double's hair instead, unceremoniously shoving its head down towards his flushed erection.

His double doesn't complain. Only shoots you another one of those cocky looks before obediently extending its pink tongue to drag along the underside of Tomura's length, hand tugging at its own cock. It swallows Tomura down, and he swears under his breath.

Tomura tangles both hands in his double's hair. Hunches his shoulders as he starts to piston his hips, spit-slicked cock working in and out from between scarred lips as the clone sputters and gags but never stops accepting that length without complaint. When a tiny whimper slips from you as you watch, Tomura's eyes gleam, mouth splitting into a grin as he eyes your hand still toying with your clit through your underwear.

"Tired of just watching yet?" he taunts breathily.

You nod. Scramble onto your knees and forward to kiss him again, more heatedly than you had before. His tongue laps at your own, his groans filling your mouth as his double continues its efforts, and then Tomura is swearing.

"Fuck," he hisses, a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his other hand still holding tight to his double's hair as he falls back against the mattress, repositioning you all so quickly it's hard to follow. One moment he's kneeling, his chest pressed to yours, and the next he's on his back, tugging you to straddle his face.

You're sure it's no accident how he's positioned you, either, facing his feet, where you can see the other version of him settling again between his thighs, its mouth still working over his cock with practiced expertise. Your clothes are gone before you know it, too, flushed skin and damp cunt fully exposed as dust falls against the sheets.

Tomura wastes no time availing himself of your heated sex. His tongue parts your slick folds and works its way greedily inside you, probing at your walls until you're gasping and grinding against his face, desperate for more. When he finally pulls back, tongue lapping forward to lap at your clit, you moan at the gentle pulse of that wet muscle against your most sensitive spot.

The double's eyes settle on you at that sound, one of its hands reaching up to grope at your bare chest, rough fingers kneading at that soft flesh before circling your nipple, pinching at that tender bud. The sharp pang of pleasure that brings only worsens the growing ache in your core.

"Tomura," you mewl, and you feel his throaty laugh between your thighs. See the double grin before it pulls its lips from Tomura's cock, dragging its tongue over that length.

"Fuck, like it when you say our name," it pants. It lifts one hand to your mouth, two fingers extended, and you waste no time parting your lips to suck at those digits, tongue laving over its knuckles and fingertips as its other hand strokes at Tomura's swollen length, drawing the occasional grunt from where the real version of him is still face-deep in your cunt. Each stroke of his tongue has that pressure building deep inside, your thighs starting to tremble.

The double pulls its hand away once its fingers are good and slicked with spit. Nudges Tomura's legs a little farther apart and drops its fingers to probe between those spread thighs. You feel it more than see it when one of those long fingers breaches Tomura's tight hole—feel the way he tenses beneath you and gasps hotly against your sex. His double's lips wrap around his cock once more, licking and sucking as he pumps his finger in and out, adding a second one after only a moment.

Tomura whimpers when those fingers press just right inside him, the movements of his mouth against your cunt growing more feverish, and then he's shoving two of his own fingers into your cunt, matching the rhythm of his double's movements as he laps at your clit. Each drag of his tongue and curl of his fingers sends you closer to the edge, your whole body going taut as you strain to reach that peak. You're not the only one, either—Tomura is whining and groaning now, his hips bucking up into his double's dual touches.

You get there first. The sight and feel of it all—the clone in front of you, lips slick with spit as it swallows Tomura down again and again, and Tomura's mouth and fingers working headily in tandem against your own cunt—has heat blooming under your skin and that pressure building deep within. You rock your hips, grinding harder against Tomura's face, and that pressure spills over, throbs of pleasure sending you keening as you come hard.

Tomura groans in bliss, lapping at your juices, his own hips rocking faster as he clearly teeters on the edge of his own release. You rake your nails over his chest in encouragement, earning a choked sound, his body tensing beneath you, and then—

And then he's letting out a frustrated grunt as his double pulls away, letting Tomura's cock slap wetly against his tense stomach. The double's fingers withdraw, too, earning another pained noise from the man beneath you.

The double ignores him. Only looks to you and says, with a wicked grin and a sharp gleam in its crimson eyes, "I have an idea.”

"Fuck."

Shigaraki can't help the swear that slips out as he moves to straddle you, though his face burns at the indignity of it. It's not just the position he's in that has him so uncharacteristically self-conscious; it's his own eagerness, too, and how badly he's hiding it. Because he's fantasized about this more than once, or parts of it anyway—you beneath him with that glossy silicone strap-on jutting out from the apex of your thighs.

Of course, his fantasies weren't quite like this—never featured this particular desire being outed by another version of himself, or said alternate looming behind Tomura as he readied himself to ride you.

Still, he's not complaining. Wouldn't even think to, not when his thighs are shaking in anticipation and his cock is achingly hard, desperate for the relief that was abruptly denied when his double decided there were better ideas than Shigaraki coming down its throat.

And, Shigaraki has to admit, he really is curious to see how much he can take.

He pauses when his knees settle beside your hips. Shifts to rut his turgid cock against your fake length once, twice, and then shifts again to let the tip of it tease at his asshole, swearing under his breath as it brushes cooly against all those sensitive nerves.

From behind him, there's an impatient click of a tongue. "Get on with it already," the other him grumbles.

"Shut up," Shigaraki hisses, but he gets on with it anyway, propping himself up on one careful fist as he starts the work of lowering himself down onto your waiting strap. You'd expressed concern, at first—about whether he could really take its thickness with so little preparation. The truth though is that this is far more control than he usually has; it's a stark departure from being bent over, some glorified onahole for a clone of himself who'd be treated the same way when it was through.

It takes little effort for the tip of your strap to breach his entrance, and Shigaraki can't help the throaty gasp that slips from his throat when he does; even when he's getting fucked by himself, that first stretch is pleasantly painful in a way nothing else quite compares to, and it's all the better now, when it's you working your way inside him, fake dick or not.

He's clearly not the only one enjoying it, either; you're watching him with bright eyes, lower lip caught between your teeth. That lustful look only worsens the heat spreading through Shigaraki's abdomen, and whatever patience he'd had left expires then. Not taking his eyes off yours, he drives himself down, accepting the full length of your strap in one fluid movement, letting out a sharp hiss at the way it thrills and aches in equal measure.

"Fuck, you weren't kidding," you murmur, hands settling at his waist. Your thumbs stroke soothingly over the points of his hips bones, holding him lightly in place, encouraging him to adjust despite your faint praise. Shigaraki only manages to tolerate that stillness for a moment before grinding impatiently against you, and then you finally start to rock your hips with soft, shallow movements. "Should've done this sooner," you breathe, still staring raptly up at him. "Feel good?"

Good is an understatement. Even your small movements are enough to have him whimpering, his straining cock twitching with every small stroke against his insides. It's not enough—is barely brushing against that sensitive spot within, and Shigaraki works himself a little faster against you, finally nodding in response to your question. "Yeah, fuck. More."

As if on cue, a hand fists roughly in Shigaraki's hair, jerking at the roots of his crown so roughly that his head snaps back, bolts of white heat stinging across his scalp. He feels his clone shifting from where it's been waiting behind him, one of its arms wrapping around to grope between his legs. A rough hand cups at his balls, and from the corner of his eye, Shigaraki sees his double smirking at you. Then it's using its grip to lift Shigaraki abruptly off your strap.

"You don't have to be so gentle with me," it tells you as it aligns itself with Shigaraki's achingly empty hole. "I can take it." It punctuates that statement with the snap of its hips, burying itself deep in one rough thrust.

It's forceful enough to draw a choked noise from Shigaraki, the girth of his own cock more substantial than the strap you'd had nestled deep only a moment ago; it knocks the breath from his lungs as he's split open in a way he'd never thought would appeal before this uncanny debauchery with the double had all started.

Some faint embarrassment rises at that thought, and at the unblinking stare you've fixed him with as you watch his double take him. He's being louder now—can't help it, not when his other self is so relentless. It doesn't ease into anything, only starts pounding away roughly the moment it's sheathed inside him, movements so harsh that all Shigaraki can do is fist tightly at the sheets and listen to the sounds of his own ragged gasps echoing in stereo, the pitch of those noises rising every time his double angles to hit just the right spot inside.

Shigaraki finds himself empty again a moment later, his walls clenching around nothing with humiliating need, but it doesn't go unfulfilled for long. His double guides him immediately back to your waiting strap, and you waste no time lifting your hips to fill that void. Your strokes keep to that gentle, steady rhythm, teasing him with what must be an intentional contrast to his double's rough treatment.

Again it's not enough, and Shigaraki lifts a hand to wrap around his cock, only to find himself denied; calloused fingers wrap tight around his wrist and twist, pinning his arm roughly behind his back.

Shigaraki sees your eyes widen when his double restrains him, and feels the heat in his face worsening under your enraptured stare. It's undignified, he knows—the way he's squirming atop you with obvious need, his cock flushed and leaking as he strives for a release that's nowhere near close enough. You don't give him what he needs, either, offering nothing but another few slow strokes against his insides before the double tightens its grip, torquing Shigarkai's arm harder as it once again maneuvers him off your strap, the feel of smooth silicone replaced by warm skin and harsh movements.

You prop yourself up, just enough for your lips to find the flushed skin of SHigaraki's chest, your tongue dragging over the sheen of sweat starting to form before you sink your teeth into his pec. That spark of hurt only worsens the near-unbearable ache in his neglected cock.

"Quit teasing and—ngh—and make me come already," he grits through clenched teeth.

"Be patient," you murmur, a teasing edge to your voice before your teeth find the hollow of his throat.

His double, though, comes closer to indulging that request. It once again withdraws, guiding Shigaraki to settle back on your strap, and then it releases its grip on Shigaraki's arm. A second later there's the faint click of a cap and the squelch of lube, and its fingers drop to probe at Shigaraki's stretched out hole even as you start to fuck up into him.

Shigaraki can't help the guttural sound he makes when the first finger slips its way inside, working in and out in tandem with your strap, searching until it brushes against his prostate. It's quickly joined by a second digit, then a third, the combined stretch more than Shigaraki has experienced before. Even warmed up as he is it borders on painful, has his body tensing at the invasion even as the throbbing in his cock worsens.

One of your hands reaches up to stroke at his hair, fingers combing soothingly through it. "Good?"

"I can take it," Shigaraki pants, echoing his clone's words from earlier. To prove it, he starts to push his hips back to meet your combined movements, leaning into that heady mixture of hurt and delicious fullness. His cock bounces with each thrust, pre dripping from his tip onto the exposed expanse of your stomach, sticky threads of it delicately connecting your flushed bodies.

That leaking arousal only worsens when the double plants one hand firmly between Shigaraki's shoulder blades and shoves, forcing him down until his chest is flush against yours and lifting his hips until only the tip of your strap is still nestled inside him.

Every muscle in Shigaraki's body goes taut in anticipation, no doubt in his mind about what's coming next, and an undignified whine slips past his lips as his other self settles into position, the firm head of its cock nudging at Shigaraki's asshole still stretched around your silicone length.

Shigaraki can feel his rim giving way with each press, stretching wider until all he can do is squirm in response, his teeth finding the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. Four fingers dig roughly into your waist and his other hand fists tightly at the sheets above your head as he braces himself.

And then his clone is surging forward, finally breaching Shigaraki's hole with one last insistent thrust, and Shigaraki's teeth are biting more firmly into the skin of your neck, a choked groan clawing up from his throat as he's stretched impossibly wide. He can feel his cock twitching between your bodies, hard as it's ever been, that substantial invasion enough to have his balls tightening, hovering on the edge of release even before you or the clone really start to move.

A moment later you do start to move, both of you, and whatever faint composure Shigaraki had maintained evaporates entirely, lost to the motion of you and the double rocking your hips in sync, working deep to hit that sensitive spot inside with unprecedented thoroughness. Each thrust sends Shigaraki's cock rutting sharply against the soft skin of your stomach, already slick with sweat and precum, and that added friction along with the agonizing fullness is all that it takes; the knot that's been clinched in Shigaraki's gut for ages finally snaps and then he's coming, finally coming as a string of half-incoherent swears spills past his lips.

"A-ah—fuck, fuck—ngh—FUCK." His skin goes hot, his whole body shuddering as he's wracked with that release.

The two of you aren't even halfway inside him, but neither of you relent as he quivers and comes—you only seem encouraged by his poorly stifled moans the way he's arching into the impossible thickness of your assailment. The two of you only push forward, another long groan rising from Shigaraki's throat when the two of you finally bottom out, staying buried there just long enough for Shigaraki's double to reach one hand down to toy with your cunt beneath the base of the strap.

Your hips buck in response to that touch, Shigaraki shuddering again, hyperaware of each tiny movement of your strap snug inside him. When another choked grunt slips out, the double laughs a little, rolling its hips.

"You're both greedy," it taunts, fingers working roughly in and out of you, its hips matching those movements. "I haven't even come once."

Shigaraki feels you writhing under him, your thrusts sloppy as you clearly try to focus on him and your own pleasure at the same time, even as your eyes flick to the double behind him. "Whose—hng—whose fault is that?"

The double gives an amused snort in response, and picks up its pace. You match that rhythm, both working harder and faster than before as you pound away in tandem. Your hand slips beneath Shigaraki, slipping between your bodies to wrap around his cum-slick cock, pumping at that length as you lick and suck at his neck, those sloppy, whimper-punctuated attentions only adding to his mounting overstimulation.

Shigaraki grunts. Tips his head to permit you better access to the sensitive skin of his throat, and almost regrets it when he catches sight of your reflections in the dark glassy screen of the television nearby, granting him what must be some approximation of your own view from beneath him: he can see his reddened face and wrecked expression, his eyes heavy-lidded and his jaw gone slack, the only response he can manage to being so thoroughly fucked. Behind him is the other version of himself, similarly flushed but wearing an entirely different look—strands of pale hair hanging in its face, crimson eyes bright and intent, scarred upper lip curling in satisfaction every time it buries itself to the hilt.

His double is close to coming, too; Shigaraki can tell from the sounds it's making, stuttering grunts and growls accompanied by ragged exhales whenever it drives itself especially deep. It's paired with your own throaty moans, and the occasional faltering of your hips, that slight discordance between dual movements only making him all the more of aware of the stretch of his walls around your lengths, and of the tight grip of your hand around his own cock, sensitive and swollen and already dangerously close to spilling over again.

Shigaraki rocks himself back against those motions. Manages to lift one hand to grope at your chest again, pinching and twisting at one stiff nipple in his own small effort to help you along—all he can manage when he can barely move, can barely think. He's hardly aware of anything except the heat of your body pressed against him and the constant, near-painful stretch of his abused hole, all of it too much and not nearly enough.

"Fuck, Tomura," you whine, your hand tangling more tightly in his hair. Your mouth finds his in a heated, messy kiss, your teeth tugging at his tongue and your grip tightening around his cock. He ruts erratically into your fist only to be countered by his clone jerking roughly at his hips, pulling Shigaraki back against its thrusts.

"Hold—hng—hold still," it rasps. Its voice has gone pitched and breathy, a clear indication of what Shigaraki already knows, though the double says it anyway, "Gonna—fuck—gonna come."

Its fingers fuck harder into your cunt, clearly trying to get you there too, and its efforts are rewarded. Your body goes tense beneath Shigaraki, your cries growing louder against his lips, and then you're mimicking those urgent movements, each stroke of your wrist and thrust of your hips growing more feverish.

Those coordinated efforts work, somehow. You press yourself more tightly against Shigaraki, body shuddering as you come, and at the same time Shigaraki feels his double forcing its way as deep as it can, that final stroke and the grip of your hand around his length enough to have him seeing white as his cock jerks and pulses, each twitch matched by warm spurts of cum spilling from the cock still buried inside him.

Shigaraki slumps against you, wincing slightly as his clone does the same, pulling out and sending leaking wetness running down his thighs as it collapses beside you. Shigaraki watches it reach one hand up to tip your chin, just enough to kiss you for a long moment. Then its eyes are flicking from you to Shigaraki and back again.

"So," it asks dryly, mouth curving up into a haughty smirk, "think you got a good enough show?"

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