#powered reader

[mochie85]

Have Mercy

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You're a powered being with healing abilities and you try to bring Loki back from the brink of death. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 1832 Warnings: Fluff, heavy kissing, slapping, mentions of death (close call), injury, a very flirty Loki,

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you all started the ambush. Tall sequoias canopied above blocking the setting sun. The air was thick with smoke and heavy from the fighting. You heard multiple teammates calling for healing, but none was louder than Thor. His troubled voice blasted through the comms, “Medic! We need a healer quickly!” His deep command tore you away from the battle you were in and you fought your way over to him. “Priestess, please! Come quick!”

Through fire and volley, you found Thor kneeling on the ground with Loki in his arms. Lifeless. Steve was circling them, trying to shield the brothers from a barrage of attacks.

You knelt on the ground. Your knees hit soft mud as your eyes scanned Loki’s body. His sharp face was paler than usual. Blue-ish tint had started to stain his lips. And your naïve-self hoped it was just because of the cold seeping from the wet ground. “Thor, I’ll take it from here. Go help Steve. I can’t worry about my life when I have to worry about his!”

Thor nodded to you. But before he laid Loki down, he whispered in his ear, “I know you are stronger than this, brother. But I swear on Yggdrasil if you are pretending, I will not hesitate to cleave Stormbreaker into you.” Thor sniffed and placed him down to the ground.

You nodded your head and patted Thor’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” you feigned, as you tried to get a better look at what had happened. You didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that you could feel how thin and fragile Loki’s life string was. A hair, compared to the cord that we all have. Worse, the thick rope that the Asgardian’s life used to be. You didn’t even know if you were skilled enough to weave it stronger.

There was a large gaping hole that tore Loki’s chest plate. His skin had burned and was raw from the impact. You couldn’t see any entry wounds. Nor blood. But the bruising and dent on his chest was not a good sign. A stray missile, perhaps? Maybe jumping in the way to save his brother. They vex each other constantly. But deep down they care for each other like most siblings do.

You straddled his body, holding your two hands out, placing them over his wound. A soft resonance emitted from your palm down to his skin. You kept your hands on him as the pulse of your powers worked their way through his body. You can see tiny mends of his scrapes and scratches. The raw skin around the wound had returned to their usual pallor.  He’s reacting at least. There’s still some life in him- whatever little is left.

You persisted. With every pulse, you can see his wounds healing. Ribs cracking back into place. The blue on his lips retreated ever so slowly. But his lifeline was stubborn. If you could hold out just long enough, his own regenerative powers might kick in.

Grasping at straws, your mind quickly raced with ideas to help speed the process along. You remembered that sometimes, shock was a good way of knocking someone back into the land of the living. “Ugh, don’t get mad at me, okay? I’m only trying to save your life,” you vowed out loud in case he was able to hear you. You quickly pulled your palm back and slapped Loki hard across his cheek.

Small capillaries burst where your hand met his face. Aside from the new hue, Loki had remained the same. Still and quiet. His line fading from your grasp. You panicked at your failed attempt.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You didn’t know how to tell Thor that you couldn’t save his only brother. Ideas and thoughts ran past your mind all muddled and incoherent. Ways and spells. Teachings and theories you’ve learned on healing and regeneration.

You cupped Loki’s cheek, healing the bruise you had left. Your brows knit together, puzzled as to what to do next. Hopeless in feeling and thought. You didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to see Thor’s face and have to tell him an awful truth. They had just reunited this past year. It wasn’t fair. And it would be all your fault because you couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save Loki. Your heart turned solemn as angry tears threatened to drop from your eyes.

By now the fighting had stopped. You didn’t realize how quiet the world had gotten around you. How still the air was from flying projectiles or weapons. The team gathered loosely. Giving you space to try and save Loki’s life, but the look on their faces betrayed the faith they were trying to offer you.

Your thumb brushed Loki’s cheek, wiping away the mud that speckled his face. He would’ve been appalled if he knew where Thor had left him on the ground. You smirked at the thought as your thumb rested on his chin and traced his lips.

His cold lips opened slightly at your touch, and you were struck with an idea.  You grabbed both sides of his leather collars and brought him to sit up towards you. His slack weight was heavier than you anticipated, and it took your remaining strength to sit him upright. You closed your eyes as your lips crashed into his, honing your powers into that desperate kiss.

You had never done this before. You had never needed to do this before. But you were hoping that your breath of life could pass onto him and carry him through till his own powers could take over. You sucked hard on his upper lip, not wanting to break any contact. Your fingers entwined themselves in his hair, desperate to keep him close to you. “Please. Please. Please,” you whispered into his mouth. Tears fell from your eyes and landed on his cheek. Your arms wrapped around his neck, unwilling to let go. Unwilling to accept the truth.

Still, you continued.

You felt a low rumble from his chest. A hopeful sign that it’s working. You just needed to hold on a little bit longer! You opened your lips for a breath of your own. And when you closed your mouth around his, your power pulsated in between you.

You felt his temperature return first. The warmth in his lips, the heat in his breath. You could feel his lifeline winding itself tighter and stronger.

His mouth returned your kiss. Sluggish and tentative. But they held on to your lips, tightly. His hands embraced your hips so delicately you didn’t even know they were there. You naturally leaned into the kiss more. Your power still pulsing through you. One last intake of breath and you passed it along towards Loki.

His grip tightened around you and he pulled you closer onto his lap. His arms snaked around you, holding your head close to his, unwilling to let you go.  You could hear small groans and heavy panting. But you honestly didn’t know whether it came from you or from Loki.

His tongue touched your lips, asking for entry. Catching your breath you opened your mouth once again and Loki gainfully ran his tongue inside against the roof of your mouth.

You didn’t realize that your powers had finished. With nothing left to heal, your powers subsided. But you were so lost in the kiss that you had forgotten where you were and what you were doing. Slowly, you pulled away. But Loki’s kiss followed you unwilling to release you. You bit his bottom lip as a warning, holding his face in between your hands.

“Darling, what an indecent way to ask me out,” Loki grinned from ear to ear. His voice was rough and garbled. He kept his face close to yours, running his nose against your cheek. “I accept!”

The world came crashing back around you. The time. The place. The situation. The shock froze you in place just staring into Loki’s blue-green eyes. “I always thought you harbored affections for me. But now I am certain,” he taunted.

You slapped him.

You couldn’t think of anything else to do. You felt betrayed somehow. Tricked. Even though you knew that he was genuinely in peril. The fact that he was joking about it even now, irked you.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed as he slowly turned his head to face you again. His chin jutted out, trying to contain the smirk that was coming forth. “Is that how you like it?”

You tried to push yourself off of him. You’ve had enough of his antics. You were utterly embarrassed at being caught in this situation. Especially with the team around, surely watching.

He caught your wrists as you pushed on his chest, stopping you. “Do it again,” he commanded. His grin was out in full force now. Dazzling you to the last inch of your nerve.

“Ugh, the thanks I get for saving your life!” pushing him down as you stood yourself up. “Next time I’ll just leave you limp in the mud.” You sneered, walking away with your head held high and your face heated and red. From humiliation or from desire, you didn’t know.

“Well, that’s very hard to do when you’re kissing me like that, my angel,” Loki yelled after you. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you angry and flustered. All because of him. Oh, I’m in trouble.

“What do I gotta do to get a kiss like that?” Bucky asked teasingly as you stomped passed him.

“Die!” you growled back at him. The words felt mean as they left your mouth. And you regretted saying them instantly. He was only trying to lighten the situation. But you couldn’t help the shame you had inside you.

“Oh, c’mon doll. I was only teasing.” Bucky raised his arms in defeat and followed you back to the quinjet, laughing.

“Loki!” Thor scolded as he held his hand to his brother, helping him up. “I hope that you were not deceiving us just to try and gain favor with the priestess. I know you’ve been seeking her affections.”

“Brother! I am genuinely hurt! Did you not see me lying there at the last inch of my life?” Loki contended, pointing to the ground where he once laid.

Thor rolled his eyes but smirked, clapping Loki on the shoulder. He was glad to have his brother back once again. “She’s very talented that one. And I do not want to see her get hurt, Lo-. Loki are you listening to me.”

Loki was at a loss for words, watching you. “She gave me my life back, brother. I have felt her lips against mine and I’ll be damned if I don’t feel them again soon.” Loki smiled as he swatted away Thor’s hand on him. His eyes solely on you, plotting how to get you to kiss him again.

➡️ When The Ball Drops (Sequel)

A/N: I know it's been awhile. I do plan on finishing my series' soon. Thanks for staying with me. Life has been hard and you guys get me through it.

🏷️ @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish @capswife @dangertoozmanykids101 @shadycloudcollection @annoyingsweetsstranger @alyeskathewave @xxjust-a-kidxx @tallseaweed @liliacdreamer @stevihj +more in the comments

[differenteagletragedy]

Price doesn't want you asking for anything, not ever. When he put that ring on your finger, it wasn't just because he wanted you to have something pretty -- it was because he wanted you to know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, his intentions to take care of you, till death do you part.

So he anticipates things you want, things you need, before you can voice them. If you get a little snippy in the afternoon, he brings you a snack. If he catches you wincing and stretching in the morning, might be time for a new mattress.

And when it's summer and he sees you parked in a lounge chair in the yard, the legs a little uneven on the grass, well, time to go shopping for some lumber, because he's going to build you a porch.

John is strong, capable and knowledgeable -- this is hardly the first thing he's built -- so it goes pretty smoothly. He sets up his saw in the garage, parks his truck with the lumber near the entrance, and gets to work.

And it is a sight to see.

Just him in cargo pants and a sweat-soaked t-shirt, spending what little free time he has doing something like this, all for you. You can't come in the garage unless you put on safety glasses and preferably some ear protection when the power tools are going, but him? He's used to it all. And when he starts putting down the posts, his biceps flexing as he works the nail gun ...

You start to think that maybe you might like some more home additions.

"Like what you see, pet?" he asks as you stand around, just watching. He lifts his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow and his shirt lifts enough for you to catch a glimpse of a sliver of his hairy stomach, soft but strong.

You do. You really, really do.

[ozzgin]

Thinking about buff, dominant men who become submissive the instant you demand it. They don’t take shit from anyone and are used to always getting their way. They’ll look after you and order you around as they see fit.

Yet, the moment you tell them to kneel, they’ll drop without hesitation. After all, they live to serve you. You're the only one in the world with this kind of privilege.

Big, scary partners who follow your orders like an obedient dog. They could be in the middle of an argument, as the others cower under their ruthless glare, and they'll drop everything to hear your precious demand.

Clearly someone's in charge, but it's not quite the way people would expect it. You're the one holding the leash.

[pipszhou]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭

✧ — synopsis: Top of the class? Not for long. All it took was one lecture, one remote-controlled vibrator, and Professor Caleb’s merciless control to turn you into a shaking, dripping mess. And when he calls you up to the chalkboard, you learn the real curriculum: obedience, humiliation, and being bred full by your favorite professor.

✧ — pairing: caleb x mc

✧ — wc: ~2.5k

✧ — tags: professor caleb, semi-public sex, vibrators, humiliation, degradation, subspace, sexual overstimulation, creampie, breeding, power imbalance, dom/sub, rough sex, size kink, dirty talk, cock warming, spanking, hair-pulling, biting, marking, possessive behavior, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, begging, soft aftercare, classroom sex, pet names

✧ — notes: hello hello again i'm really horny so i wrote this within a day. not beta read, i hope you enjoy my horny endeavors! i just need more power imbalance lmao

You’re in a predicament.

The top student of the entire university—the pride of the campus—yet here you are, sitting at the back of the lecture hall with your thighs pressed tightly together, your nails digging into the edges of your seat. Your brows furrow, delicate lines forming between your temples as you bite down hard on your bottom lip, desperately trying to smother the whimpers threatening to spill out.

Because nestled deep inside you, hidden from the world, is a merciless vibrator—thick, hot, and unforgiving—pounding into your dripping cunt with devastating precision. Each thrust stretches you open wide, the fat head grinding against every desperate, soaked spot inside you. The toy doesn't just vibrate; it fucks into you, grinding in deep, twisting and pulsing like a real cock seeking to wreck you completely. Your walls flutter helplessly around it, clenching and spasming in pathetic pleasure.

As if that wasn’t enough, a suction toy clamps tightly onto your swollen clit, tugging and slurping with obscene, wet noises, like it's trying to suck your soul straight out through your trembling folds. Every pull sends white-hot sparks through your body, every pulse making you jolt and tremble.

All because of him.

Professor Caleb. Your childhood friend. Your Gege. Now the most sought-after artificial intelligence lecturer on campus—the heartthrob every girl wanted. And the man who had no mercy for you.

This was his game. His twisted, cruel judgment: could you endure, maintain your perfect, untouchable image... while the toy he prepared tore you apart from the inside out?

Or would you crack, humiliate yourself by running to the bathroom to finger yourself raw like a desperate little thing?

You refused to lose.

Your pride was too fierce.

Your stubbornness, too stupid.

So you stayed in your seat, trembling, thighs sticky and slick, grinding ever so slightly against the chair in a desperate bid for relief. Hands clamped over your mouth, you prayed no one would hear the faint, wicked buzzing between your legs. You clenched, you gasped, you endured.

Until the voice you dreaded most called out, slicing through your fragile composure like a blade.

"Class number 13," Caleb said smoothly, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Please come up and solve the problem. What is the predicted value output of this activation layer in the full network?"

Oh gods.

Oh fuck.

Your heart plummeted. Your body spasmed around the merciless toy, gushing helplessly. Your mind—blank, so utterly blank, filled only with the overwhelming feeling of being stuffed full and sucked dry.

You hadn’t heard a single word of the lecture.

But you had a reputation to keep. The golden girl. The untouchable ace.

You forced yourself to rise, your nails digging into the table so hard they threatened to break. You took slow, shaky breaths, fighting to control the feverish pulse hammering through you. Your legs trembled as you stepped out into the aisle, every eye in the room burning into your skin, every step feeling like a mile-long walk of shame.

You reached the front—and there he was. Professor Caleb. Eyes dark with amusement. Smirk hidden behind the respectable façade.

He handed you the chalk. His fingers brushed yours—and in that exact moment, you caught it: the glint of the remote tucked in his palm.

A flick of his thumb.

The vibrator inside you roared to life, surging to its highest setting, brutal and relentless. It slammed into you, the fat shaft pistoning deep, hammering your g-spot, dragging moans up your throat you barely swallowed down. The toy twisted with each brutal thrust, the head grinding against your sweetest spots, almost lovingly cruel in how it refused to let you breathe.

The suction on your clit tightened too, a filthy, slurping rhythm pulling at you in time with each thrust inside—as if the toy was fucking and drinking you at once, milking you dry.

Your knees buckled slightly. You caught yourself against the chalkboard.

You could feel it.

The thick, pulsing length of the toy stuffing you full, stretching your cunt to its limits, buzzing violently against your spasming walls. Your panties were drenched, your thighs glistening. Your dignity, seconds away from shattering.

And yet you had to solve the equation.

In front of the entire class.

Under his watchful, merciless gaze.

The chalk trembled in your hand. He leaned in close, voice a low purr only you could hear. "Go on, top student," Caleb murmured, dark and wicked against your ear.

"Show me how well you can think… while getting fucked dumb.”

Fuck—a moan slipped past your lips before you could catch it. You wanted to curse the existence out of him. You wanted to tear him apart with words, call him the cruelest bastard alive. But all you could do was look at him—eyes burning with dark, venomous vengeance, even as your body betrayed you with heavy, panting breaths and soft, pathetic whimpers.

You tried—you really fucking tried—to walk your mind through every algorithm, every neural network formula you’d memorized so well. You tried to scribble something on the chalkboard, your hand trembling. But it was useless. Your writing was a mess of illegible lines, nonsense formulas no one could make sense of, the chalk crumbling and snapping in your tight, desperate grip.

Then you heard it— the low, rich sound of his chuckle. Amused. Entertained. Savoring your unraveling.

With a lazy flick of his thumb against the remote, he cranked the suction to maximum.

The effect was immediate. Your entire body convulsed, a helpless jolt of pleasure rippling up your spine. The suction on your clit was savage, unrelenting—greedy little pulls that sent wave after wave crashing through your gut, making your vision blur with stars.

Fuck, you were so close. So fucking close.

You slapped a trembling palm against the chalkboard to steady yourself. The chalk clattered to the floor with a hollow thud as your fingers lost their grip. Your knees buckled, barely holding you up as your hips gave a desperate, involuntary twitch.

Inside you, the thick vibrator kept thrusting deep—the textured veins along its shaft dragging against your slick walls with every ruthless stroke, the fat, rounded head grinding mercilessly against your sensitive cervix. It was maddening—perfect—too good. Every thrust knocked the air from your lungs, every pulse made your cunt flutter helplessly, greedy for more.

The suction was obscene, slurping at your clit so loudly you were sure someone, anyone, could hear. Humiliation and raw, brain-melting pleasure tangled inside you, choking you.

Then—his hand.

You felt it. Large, warm, strong fingers gripping your shoulder tightly.

You barely registered him leaning down, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, his voice a low, sinful growl meant for you alone.

"Fuck, baby," Caleb rasped, the words sending a violent shudder through your entire body.

"Why don't you just give up—let go—and I'll fill you up with my babies later, hm? Breed you nice and full right here…"

That was it.

The last straw.

You came—hard. Your body seized violently, every muscle locking tight as the orgasm tore through you, raw and merciless. Slick gushed down your thighs, soaking through your panties, dripping onto the floor. You bit down on your own hand to muffle the loud, broken moan that ripped free from your throat.

You shattered under him, completely undone, just as he wanted.

You heard it—the low, scandalous murmurs rippling across the room. The students whispering, stealing glances at the obscene sight before them. You, gasping for air, your knees buckling under you, while Professor Caleb—the campus heartthrob—stood so close you could taste his cologne, feel the heat of him against your trembling skin.

Then he stood upright, rolling his shoulders lazily like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t falling apart on the floor.

"Alright, folks. Class dismissed," he said, mock sympathy dripping from his voice. "I'll take care of our top student here. She must be feeling a little... overwhelmed."

He winked—a cruel, knowing thing that made your blood boil.

"Come back next week with the answers to the problem on the board."

Students scurried out, throwing lingering stares your way, none brave enough to question him.

None knowing just how soaked you were—how the vibrator still pounded inside you, thrusting, suctioning, working your overstimulated folds mercilessly. The cum from earlier leaking out, wetting your thighs shamefully.

Once the last student left, Caleb locked the door with a click. He turned, his steps slow and deliberate as he stalked toward you. He grabbed your arm and pulled you up, no patience left in him.

"Stand up, Pip-squeak," he said, his professor mask fully dropped, replaced by something darker, filthier. "I’ll make it fast for you."

You nodded, helpless. Your legs felt like jelly, your cunt still clenching pathetically around the toy buried deep inside. With his steadying hand, you stumbled upright.

He guided you to his seat—the throne at the front of the room—and sat back lazily, spreading his legs in a welcoming posture.

"Strip, baby," he ordered, voice thick with lust. "I wanna see every curve hiding under that tight little shirt and short skirt you wore, thinking you could tease me."

You glared at him, breathing heavy. God, you hated him. You hated how hot he made you. How wet you got just from the sound of his voice.

"Chop chop," he said, tapping his jaw with his fingers smugly. "Or do you want me to rip it off you instead? I won't be gentle, Pips."

You cursed under your breath but obeyed—gripping the hem of your tank top, peeling it over your head slowly, exposing trembling skin. Your skirt pooled down your legs with a soft whisper, leaving you utterly bare, nothing left to hide.

"What now, Caleb?" you asked, your voice small, shivering slightly.

"Good girl," he murmured, unzipping his fancy linen pants with one smooth motion. His thick, heavy cock sprung free—long, veined, angry red at the tip, leaking pre-cum like he couldn't wait to ruin you again.

The same cock that had broken you a hundred times before.

The same cock you dreamed about, drooled over, worshiped like it was your personal god.

"Sit on me," he said. "You know the drill."

You let out a shaky breath, heart pounding in your ears. No matter how much you wanted to slap him for being an asshole—you wanted him more.

You were his cocksleeve, after all. His needy little thing.

You climbed onto his lap, one trembling hand gripping his collarbone for balance. The other reached down between your legs, pulling the soaked, buzzing vibrator out of your stretched hole and tossing it somewhere carelessly.

Lining him up, you sank down. It was like the first time all over again.

His cock was thicker than anything, harder, hotter—stretching your walls until they clamped around him desperately. Every vein of him dragged along your sensitive insides perfectly, the fat head of his cock pushing into your cervix with sinful precision. He filled you up like he was made for you—like he owned every inch of your tight, ruined cunt.

He was your naughty professor.

Your filthy god.

Your damnation and your salvation wrapped in one devastating man.

You started moving—bouncing weakly, trying to ride him the way he liked, but your legs were too shaky, too spent from the relentless overstimulation. You whimpered, grinding pathetically against him, barely able to lift yourself.

"Oh, baby," he cooed mockingly, hands resting heavy on your ass. "Is that all you got? After coming so pretty in front of the whole class?"

He slapped your ass hard enough to make you squeal, then soothed it with a rough grope, making you rock harder against him.

You tried to look away, humiliated, but his dark gaze pinned you in place—all-consuming. Inescapable.

"Shut up, Caleb," you snarled weakly. "Shut the fuck up—I—"

He gripped your hair tight, yanking your head back roughly. A broken cry escaped you, your back arching, pressing your tits flush against his chest.

"You don't get to order me around, baby," he growled, voice pure sin against your ear. He bit down on your neck, hard enough to bruise, suckling dark purple marks into your skin like a man possessed.

"You're mine, Pip-squeak. My perfect little whore."

Your mind spun. Your body shook. You fell deeper into subspace—weightless, aching, desperate for him. He toyed with you, slapping your ass, groping your tits, biting your throat, until you were a trembling mess in his lap.

"Need help, my lovely top student?" he whispered against your ear, voice thick with cruel affection. You nodded frantically, tears clinging to your lashes, your body begging.

He chuckled low and deep—"could’ve said so sooner, Pips."

Then he took control. His hands grabbed your waist, slamming you down onto his cock with brutal, merciless thrusts. Each movement drove him impossibly deep, splitting you open, pounding against your g-spot so viciously that your cries turned into strangled, high-pitched sobs.

You dug your nails into his back, leaving angry red trails down his spine. You wanted to brand him. You wanted him to remember how you fell apart on his cock.

The lecture hall echoed with the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin—your cries, his low groans, the obscene, squelching sound of your cunt sucking him in greedily. "Keep it down, baby," he mocked, voice a rumble in your chest. "Others might hear you begging to be bred."

Fuck him.

Fuck him so much.

But you were too far gone. Your second orgasm built fast, violent, white-hot, ripping through you with every devastating thrust. You couldn’t hold back—your body convulsed, your cunt squeezing him desperately, trying to milk every drop from him.

And he was close too. You could hear it in his ragged breaths, feel it in the way his thrusts became rougher, erratic.

"Baby," he moaned brokenly, forehead pressed against yours, "I’m gonna come—open up, please—"

You did—your walls clamping down, your legs shaking, your mind blank as you came undone together. He spilled inside you with a low, desperate groan—thick, endless spurts of cum flooding your sore, twitching cunt. You could feel every hot, filthy drop filling you, leaking out, dripping down your thighs in thick, sticky trails.

You collapsed against him, shaking, gasping, his cock still buried deep inside your pulsing heat. His arms wrapped around you tight, possessive, like he was afraid you might slip away.

"Mine," he murmured against your hair, voice rough and spent. "Always mine, Pip-squeak."

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You stayed there—your body convulsing in little aftershocks, your pussy throbbing around him like it was the end of the world. He held you close, a suffocating, trembling embrace, like he needed to feel you breathing against him just to stay sane.

Even after the humiliation he put you through—after the teasing, the breaking, the claiming—you still loved him just the same. Your Gege. Your professor. Your ruin. Your home.

"Meet me after your classes end," he rasped, his temple resting against your bare shoulder, his cock still buried deep inside you. "Five p.m. sharp. As usual."

You nodded weakly, knowing full well—

You weren’t going to make it home in one piece.

[bi-writes]

thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

[monstersholygrail]

In a Free Use City, there are two ways you can get promoted. You can put in the hard work by taking on extra responsibilities, going longer hours, and putting in the initiative. Or… you can sleep your way to the top. In a Free Use City, sleeping your way to the top isn’t frowned upon but instead highly encouraged. Especially by your bosses.

While everyone tries to sleep their way to the top, you’d be surprised to know that most people get promoted through hard work. Because… In a Free Use City, sleeping your way to the top is actually harder to achieve than putting in the work of the job.

When you decide to sleep your way to the top, you are heavily surveyed and judged based on your ability and skill of fucking and pleasing your bosses. The committee that makes the decision all must be pleased with your individual performances.

Even lost in the throes of pleasure, they remain focused on how well your pretty lips looked wrapped around their thick cocks, how deep you can take them down your throat, how much you can hallow your cheeks and swirl your tongue around their lengths. They count how long they can deep throat you and the amount of time it takes before your tears are dripping down to their heavy balls. Some count more tears as a positive while others consider it a negative.

The next part of the evaluation has them slowly moving down to your holes. They evaluate how turned on you got just from sucking them off. Similarly, some wanna see you leaking buckets while others wanna prep you themselves. They dip their fingers inside of you, teasing you just right. Analyzing how tight you are and how tight you can clench around them.

But they don’t take the time to stretch you. No, that would be cheating on the evaluation form. They need to know how well you can naturally take their fat cocks down your tight core. Some of them give you more points the more you arch and writhe as your body accommodates their girth while others remove points for not just taking it like a good whore.

As they finally properly fuck you, their analytical gaze never wavers. Evaluating your stamina and how quick you bring them to the brink of an orgasm. They have you ride them so they can see your entire body as you bounce on their cocks. So that they can see how deep they’re taking you, their cocks creating a nice pretty bulge in your belly with each brutal thrust. Even the way you cum around their cocks is evaluated and processed in the promotion consideration.

Very few workers meet all the requirements and surpass the points needed to fuck their way to the top. But you don’t care about the odds, you don’t even care all that much about the promotion. You just really wanna fuck all your bosses.

And you end up being the highest scored employee in the history of their company… Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted.

[zephyrchama]

Lucifer with a habit of fussing over you in slightly sadistic ways. He's a busybody who cannot stop working. When he does have free time, he needs something to fill it, and you are the perfect target.

He isn't excessive about it. Any being worth standing next to the Avatar of Pride is already exceptional in their own right. He trusts your judgement, he knows you're more than capable. You've proven that time and time again.

Yet there's something about you that he just can't leave alone. The feeling that fills Lucifer when he sees you is almost as strong as his sin. It's magnetic and addicting.

Lucifer combs lint off your clothes and fixes even the most minor parts of your appearance. You are a source of his pride, after all.

He'll give you accessories, charms. Anything in his color that marks you as his. He won't be upset if you refuse to wear them, though he will feel the need to show others that you belong to him in other ways.

He likes to catch you off guard, to suddenly loom over you just to brush a stray leaf off the back of your head. Your flustered expression always brings a mischievous smile to his face.

He'll turn your face towards his and lean in, so close that the smell of his breath fills your nose, just to inform you that "you have a bit of sleep next to your eye. Wipe it off."

He seems like the perfect gentleman, escorting you and guiding you out of harm's way. It's a ploy to keep you in arm's reach. With a single tug he can drag you away from danger and straight to his side. Whether it be a passing vehicle, a stray spell shooting through the air, or a sudden downpour. Or maybe he just likes to make up excuses to hold you against him.

You'd be most safe with his arms wrapped around you in a private room locked from the inside, but this much should be sufficient in public.

[slowfuckintheafternoon]

18+ only please and thank you

John Price’s darling secretary, whose orgasm is scheduled every week, on Friday afternoon.

Friday afternoon, that’s the deal you've found yourself in somehow, after one terribly drunken and unforgivably honest night, where you found yourself naked and panting into your boss’s—

You know what, maybe it’s best if you don’t get into the details. It doesn’t matter now anyway, because you have your routine, and it works for both of you.

First thing in the morning, you bring your boss his coffee.

He takes one sip, and gives you an absentminded, “Thank you darling, shut the door please.”

Which you of course take care of right away, with your heels clacking cheerfully across the vinyl floor.

Then it’s morning briefing time, where you hover near the end of his desk and fill him in on any changes to his schedule that day, remind him of meetings and things he needs to sign off on, and just generally become more and more flustered because of what he’s doing.

Namely, that’s when he scoots his chair farther back from his desk, spreads his legs a bit, and strokes his beard while he looks at you.

Oh, the way that man looks at you.

You’ve tried to describe it to your friend once, and utterly failed because you started stumbling over your words with sudden embarrassment.

But your mind knows. Your subconscious perfectly understands the meaning of that particular gaze he levels at you.

It’s like you’ve found the most important person in the world, a person whose attention feels like it should be rationed in crumbs, and it's suddenly, fully locked onto you.

Not onto what you’re saying, though he does pay vague attention because that’s part of his professional day-to-day. But more than anything, he’s watching the changes in your face, the small shifts of your legs as you stand in one place in heels. It would be unprofessional to lean against his desk, so you just shift your weight slightly, planner in hand, and rattle off military organizational nonsense while Price’s eyes caress your face, linger on the curl of your fingers around the pen, lazily examine that spot where the skin of your throat disappears under your shirt collar.

“How was your weekend?” he'll ask softly, once he's certain you've got through the boring necessities.

"It was lovely, thank you sir. Saw a film with my friend."

He'll stretch out his hips slightly, forcing you to glue your eyes to his face and not drop them to the expanse of warm lap so close by.

“How are you feeling today?” he always inquires.

Which, of course, you know what it means. The words are cordial enough, but you've had this routine long enough to understand what's unsaid.

‘How’s our little arrangement treating you today? Do you need a break?’

To which you reply something like, “Right as rain, sir.”

And that's it. Business settled, coffee delivered, everything ship shape in that little office on base.

And then you get a different sort of attention, because that's what this is all about in the first place -- the fact that you can't get enough of his attention.

Some days, if there really isn't anything going on that morning, he'll let you suck him off. Those are really nice days, because it means he'll be in a good mood after that, smiling at you and giving you soft, happy eyes.

But mostly there isn't time, so he's forced to tend to you in other ways.

Namely, the Captain makes you come stand between his knees, so he can run his hands over your body. He'll talk to you while he does it, tell you a little bit about his weekend, the fishing he did, the reruns he watched, while he undoes the little buttons on your blouse.

He prefers you in those soft fabric bras without any padding, partly because he can see the imprint of your nipples through your shirt, and partly because it's so easy to tug the top down and let your breasts spill out onto his waiting hands.

Price is a boob man, in case you were wondering.

You keep your hands clasped carefully onto your planner behind your back, and endure each tug on your nipple while he shines those gorgeous eyes up at you, his expression full of playful fondness. That's all this is, after all. A little bit of playing with each other, because you both enjoy it.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you miss me over the weekend?"

"I always do, sir."

Sometimes he finds other ways to play with your body, but you get the general idea. Ten minutes of touching and attention, and you're set for the day. Wet, breathless, and practically stumbling over yourself to please him in whatever ways you can.

Ten minutes, and then he's buttoning you back up, making you proper again, and turning back to his coffee with a casual, "That's all for now. Thank you, darling."

Thank you. As if you're the one doing him the favor. You're half convinced it's his own little joke.

Actual work begins about that time, and it often happens where you don't see much of each other. He's occupied with meetings or trainings or briefings most mornings, and you deal with your usual papers and busywork.

For lunch you often pop off to the mess, or occasionally bring sandwiches to the office mini fridge. Lunch is always overshadowed by your anticipating of the midday meeting. It's the next bit of time you get to spend time with Captain Price.

"How was your lunch?"

"Just fine, sir."

"Close the door please."

Much like his, 'How are you feeling today?' question, you believe the door closing is a signal of sorts. That he's ready and willing, and that nothing has come up that keeps him from the midday meeting, as things occasionally do.

Most days, though, he manages to prioritize it.

You appreciate that greatly, because it's your favorite part of the day. The part where you remove all of your clothes apart from your heels, and he guides you into his lap for wandering hands, and soft, interested whispers.

He never takes off a stitch of his own clothes. It's part of the arrangement, you suppose, to help you feel more vulnerable. The contrast of his rough, reinforced clothing against your bare skin, the occasional scratch of velcro, or the poke of a corner of fabric, only makes it better. The complex excitement and fear of it has your heart thumping like a trapped animal, which is obviously the point. The more trapped you feel, the more wrong it is, the wetter your pussy gets, and you both know it.

You attempt to relax like that, melting back against that broad chest, shivering slightly from the cold air of the room, and aware of every motion of those steady hands exploring your most sensitive areas.

When he gets his fingers in your pussy, when he starts touching it exactly the way you like, that's when he asks you the most difficult questions, in quiet little murmurs against your hair.

They're rhetorical, but you give him a quiet, "Yes, sir," or "No, sir," as you're meant to.

He'll ask you if you've been wet on the weekend while you were away. If you've been a selfish girl and touched yourself at all. If you went on any dates, if you let anyone fuck you. If you told them about how you're not allowed to cum, if you took precautions to make sure it didn't happen. If you were generous and let them use you. If you've been thinking about hooking up with anyone else at work, if having a wet pussy all week is making you more interested in being used by random people.

And he touches you through every question, regardless of how you answer. Until your knees are trembling, and every reply is coming out with a little more of a struggle, a little more whimpery and pitiful.

He doesn't make you edge yourself. He's got a pretty clear idea of where your tipping point is, after a few accidents in the early weeks of this. He'll just decide you've had enough, and his sticky fingers will dry while coasting over the other parts of your skin, sampling the feel of your heated body in his hands while you catch your breath and try to calm yourself.

Price always gives himself time to spend with you like that, gently petting you and letting you feel connected to him, until the soft warmth of that is almost as loud in your brain as your throbbing clit.

And then it's time to get proper again. Get dressed, get back on schedule, back to your office duties, with your underwear now uncomfortably sticky against your aching pussy.

Aching, because he's so fond of you that he gives you all this wonderful attention.

The end of the day tends to be the part that's flexible. Sometimes it's just a friendly pat on your ass and a, "See you tomorrow, good work today."

Occasionally he'll inspect your panties, maybe get rid of them for you since they're so wet and useless at that point. More than a few times you've had to ride the train home with nothing on under your skirt, your inner thighs wet from your own arousal wandering down your legs. It's very difficult to not think about fucking strangers when that's happening.

And sometimes, very rarely, he'll fuck you at the end of the day. Especially if it's been a very good day, or if you've done something particularly smart, you'll get bent over his desk as a goodbye, get your pussy filled while your eyes roll back and little whispered, "Thank you, sir"s roll off your tongue.

Those are the days you really wish he was coming home with you.

But then, the best day is always Friday. That's the day you're always extra nervous, extra good, trying your very hardest to do everything exactly right so that nothing will stand in the way of you and getting the orgasm you earned all week.

Price lets you pick it, because he's a very nice boss. Whether it's eating you out on top of his desk, or getting fingered uncomfortably close to the window, or just riding him until your knees have imprints of his chair, you're guaranteed to finally, finally, get to cum. He often stays late so you can get as many as you want, shuddering and gasping as quietly as you can while your pussy spasms in intense, long-delayed release.

You've never felt anything like it. Many partners, many different kinds of experiences, but your Friday afternoon fuck is something different. Something emotional and vulnerable, when you let your body do what it needs to do, while he watches. Watches, and offers hushed little comforts and praises.

Take what you need, you've earned it. You've been such a busy worker this week. His favorite subordinate, but don't tell anyone. Never met anyone so cute and competent at the same time, what a treasure you are. Doesn't that feel so much better? Let's keep going, you deserve it. You're doing so well, darling. That's my girl.

You're left a sweaty, blissed-out mess by the end, when he tucks you into his chest and strokes your back.

Ahh, Friday. Fridays are the best.

[allimili]

https://www.tumblr.com/allimili/775822310068322304/i-love-the-way-you-draw-the-cookies-popping-their?source=share

Different anon and I can't help but imagine that the cookies always magically fix their phone because they love them so much...or magically enchanted the phone.

extra:

[dragonanon]

Okay, but please consider being a Zoan Cat user and accidentally getting “adopted” by a pirate crew after being mistaken for a regular ass cat. You honestly thought they knew you were a human at first, and by the time you realized they didn’t, it had been long enough that revealing yourself would’ve been awkward af, and you were then curious about how long it would take them to figure you out. So instead you stfu and be a relatively good lil’ ship cat.

You get free food, plenty of comfy places to nap in, and lots of scritches and attention from big men who’re surprisingly giddy to have a tiny cat on board. Why on Earth would you want to ruin that??

You get away with it for months. And the ONLY reason you get caught is because someone does something so unbelievably dumb that you absentmindedly say out loud “Damn, we’re really reaching new levels of stupid here.” You could hear a mouse fart in stunned silence that followed as you realize your inside thought did NOT stay inside, and now you want nothing more than to just disappear into the floor.

Shockingly enough, you’re forgiven and continue on as the ship cat; except now you can properly converse and interact with everyone. HOWEVER you’re still subjected to being picked up and held out towards everyone like Simba whenever you’re fully transformed into a cat lmfao

[hadaldemon]

dumb lil thought I had at work

Shadow Tako/Tako Milk form

[specialgradefckr]

here, kitty, kitty!

tw: dubcon/noncon, hybrid au, reader is literally a pet, loss of bodily autonomy, examination kink, slight medical play, genital piercings, possession

So, Satoru wants to get a cat hybrid.

Suguru supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Satoru's never hidden his porn history or anything. He's constantly suggesting they find a third, while instantly rejecting all suggestions.

A diva like him couldn't have sex with just anyone. And for Suguru himself, well, he preferred to have a certain level of... control in a relationship.

Which suited Satoru fine, most of the time, and Suguru was willing to concede on the rare occasion.

But Suguru doesn't have cat ears, a tail, and a pussy, and he can even admit that he misses the fairer sex sometimes, too.

They've been together so long, know each other so well. Familiarity breeding boredom, maybe. They're happy together, but Satoru wants more.

He's also incredibly needy, exactly the type of child who would beg mommy and daddy for a pet kitty.

That's also the type of child cats tend to despise. But no matter how many times he tries to explain it - "It's not that simple, Satoru" "A pet is a serious commitment, you know" - Satoru, much like a whining child, just doesn't listen.

And, well, Suguru is getting tired of telling him.

So that's how they end up here - with you.

A beautiful thing. All curled up in the corner of your stall - cage, really. Your ears twitch at the noise, and you look up, wide-eyed and anxious in a way that tugs his heartstrings.

It's truly a pity that you're at a place like this.

The interior is well-decorated, clean, with lush carpets and furnishings. The interior of your cage has a soft-looking blanket bunched up in it, and plush bedding in the back.

But there's no mistaking its purpose. In the background, there are moans, whimpers, and the occasional sob.

Throughout the wide room, a few pets were being taken out, paraded for potential owners. Poked and prodded and played with.

You, like all the others, are completely naked.

These hybrids are for sex.

Suguru had almost wanted to leave right away, but Satoru had been so excited, dragging him in by the hand. "Just look! We only have to look!"

After the assistant, a tall, well-dressed blonde man, guides them to the cat section, he's starting to think this isn't Satoru's first time here.

And that's when they'd found you, the sorry thing that you are.

Something trickles down his spine at the thought that you'll be seen by others, sold off, used for sex at your owner's discretion.

"Ooooh, I love this one!" Satoru sounds excited. "Can we take a closer look?"

Nodding, the assistant unlatches your cage. You look out, carefully, with big wide eyes, and the assistant waves you out, but you don't move.

He goes in with a leather lead, latching it to your collar, tugging until you finally crawl out, ears tilted back as your tail curls around your body.

Suguru accepts the lead in one hand as the man steps out for a moment.

The assistant reappears pushing a cart of what looks like medical instruments. Tongue depressors, stethoscopes... lubricant.

"All our pets are virgins. You aren't permitted to have sex but you're free to examine them however you like."

Suguru stands there, silent and shocked while Satoru gleefully agrees.

With a tap of his hand to your back, the assistant guides you to lean forwards, chest pressed against the floor, ass up, right in the middle of the shop in front of them.

Your tail sways gently, curling around Satoru's hand when he grasps at it, delighted, running his hand through it and down the length of your body.

"She soooo cute! Look at her pretty tail. And that ass." He whistles, smacking you on the flank.

Suguru watches your whole body flinch at the contact, but you stiffen up, staying in position. He feels a weird, light flip in his belly. This sort of thing was crazy to begin with... but wouldn't it be better to adopt you than leave you here?

He can't even see your face, meet your eyes. Something inside him screams to comfort you; gather your smaller figure up tightly in his arms and squeeze.

"It'll be all right," Suguru finds himself saying, effortlessly smooth as he approaches you. Gently petting the side of your head, watching the ear on that side tilt to accommodate him. Cute.

Well. He supposes he's a cat person, too.

Satoru is still cooing and groping over your admittedly fine body. Suguru can't help but notice how you stiffen under Satoru's wandering touch, but lean into his gentle pets.

He kneels by your head so he can scratch behind your ear, catching the side of your pretty face.

You reward his efforts with a slight, barely noticeable purr - one that goes away when you gasp, face flushing.

That'd be Satoru.

"See, look at her getting wet already! I bet she looks real good taking dick." Satoru says with a giggle as he reaches your pussy, giving your clit a little rub and teasing your entrance.

The employee, straight-faced, gestures towards the instruments beside him.

"As I said, our pets are kept as virgins until they're sold, so you can't have sex with them. But any other form of examination is permitted, including penetrative ones."

Satoru gives him that terrible, impish grin. "C'mon Suguru. We should check she's in good health before we get her."

"Who said we're getting her?" Suguru shoots back, stroking tenderly over your head, down your back, in soothing motions.

There's a sparkle in Satoru's eyes; he knows Suguru isn't willing to leave this shelter without you.

Those terrible, wicked, beautiful eyes glance over the instruments, mouth splitting into a grin as he fixes his gaze on one of them.

Pulling out the speculum, Satoru slinks towards your backside. Tracing lines over your folds, fondling your clit with purpose.

"See! Soooo wet," He coos, positioning the speculum at your entrance.

Suguru pulls away from you to sit next to Satoru, "Be careful. That's not a toy."

"I know, I know!"

Satoru's tone isn't exactly reassuring to you. Still, you can't do anything but hold yourself up, your ass and cunt bare and exposed to them as the cool metal slides in.

Just the feeling of it spreading you open has you whimpering, tail curling around your thigh.

Suguru's hand comes to rest at the base of your tail, near your back, petting down it in a gliding motion.

"There's a good girl, hm," His voice has a heady satisfaction to it, fingers curling around your tail, "Just hold still for us, don't be afraid. We won't hurt you."

You can't help your reaction, keening under his soothing, affectionate tone. A little whine escapes you as the cool metal slides deeper in, and Suguru makes an effort to reach down and pet your head again.

"Yeah!" Satoru chirps. "See, it's not so bad!"

Somehow, this, too, fails to reassure you. However, one of his hands sneaks around to rub over your clit, until you're dripping, clenching around the metal instrument.

"Good kitty," Suguru murmurs, and you find a shameful, low rumble building in your belly.

Satoru notices, though, "She likes it!" - to your horror, he slides the speculum all the way in, and starts spreading it - you - wide open.

"Here, Suguru, don't you want a look?" Satoru says, spreading you one-handed. His other hand rubs just close enough to your clit to keep the arousal lit.

"Hm..." Suguru hums.

But Satoru knows him - knows that this is as close to a yes as he can bring himself to admit to an idea he hadn't suggested himself.

You're so cute, too, he can't help but stroke your pretty little folds, all soft and wet for him. Even as he gapes your cunt wide, it's drooling all over his fingers. You're a natural. So perfect~

"Just look!" Excitement shoots through his chest, "You can see inside... that's her cervix, right?"

He does see it, they both do, that tender, reddened roundness at the end of your pretty little passageway. Walls straining against the speculum, a tight little hole winking at them at the very end.

Like a prize. Like an invitation.

It stirs a terrible, primal heat in Suguru's loins. Seeing so deep inside you. So far. You've almost certainly never even seen this part of yourself... it's only for him. For him and Satoru.

For them to see right now. And later, feel it kissing their dicks, hot and wet as you get filled up with their cum...

"God," Satoru says out loud, "I just want to take her here and now, you know? This cute cunt would look so nice all swollen and dripping with cum, yeah? Right, Su-gu-ru~?"

It's so painfully obvious by now; Satoru had already scouted you in this shelter. He'd picked you out on purpose.

Somehow, he's not even upset. But he can't just say that. Even if he's already itching to have you home, with his name on your collar and your leash in his hands, to play with...

"She looks... healthy." Suguru says, glancing at the employee.

The assistant nods shortly. "As you can see, she has a very strong pelvic floor, and she's in prime breeding condition. Our pets are kept in perfect health." 

A pause. "Is she in fit to go home today?" Suguru asks, ignoring how Satoru nearly cheers at the statement.

"All of our pets are. If they weren't completely healthy, they wouldn't be on display. We take their care very seriously here."

Suguru nods again, and the assistant leaves to retrieve the final adoption papers.

Satoru pulls the speculum out, and Suguru takes a moment to press his body into your thigh, supporting you, petting over you.

"You were so good for us," He cooes, "Don't be scared. There's a good girl," Suguru hums as your tail slides against him, "You're coming home with us, now. Aren't you excited?"

There's a terrible relief that pours through you at the words good girl, at the gentleness with which those large hands guide you to a much more comfortable position, sitting at his feet.

You press yourself against his lower legs, looking up at him shyly, feeling a purr glow through your chest as Suguru smiles down at you.

He's so nice. The other man is lecherous, a bit scary, but it'll be okay as long as this nice man is here, right?

It seems almost finished, as the employee returns - but the white-haired man, the extra pretty one, raises a brow at an option on the paperwork.

"Clit piercings?" Satoru's voice seems extra excited, "Is that an option? Instead of the microchip?"

Piercing? You stiffen at the word. To say you didn't like pain would be a dramatic understatement. Just the thought of some needle near your flesh, a hole that won't heal...

Suguru's hand comes down onto your head, running through your hair, brushing all the thoughts away as you lean into his touch.

It's hard not to crave the warmth, the gentleness. You're only a hybrid, after all, bred for companionship and affection.

The employee pauses for a moment sighing, "It's not an option for all pets. It's a clitoral hood piercing, which can house a micro-sized, state of the art gps tracker. The issue is, it requires some delicate handling. You would have to keep her still, and ideally, keep her clit hard, so it's easier to avoid."

Satoru pulls you up into his arms, like you're no lighter than a switch - you yelp, but he just laughs.

He sits back onto a chair, holding you in his lap and spreading your legs. With one hand, larger than your whole pussy, he spreads your lips open, revealing your cunt.

Your feverish eyes look for Suguru, who approaches from the side, squirming in Satrou's lap anxiously.

Those dark eyes run over you, and for once, the look on the handsome, dark-haired man's face makes you shiver.

"That should be easy. You've been playing around it all this time, haven't you, Satoru?" Suguru's tone is half-accusatory, but Satoru only laughs.

It's easy for you to follow the line of his sight to between your legs, right at the crest of your clit, where Satoru's long, clever fingers stroke heavy circles around it.

"Just hold her like that" The assistant states, pulling out a piercing gun, "This will only take a moment."

"Look at her cute little clit!" Satoru snickers, "Gonna look so pretty with the piercing over it. Plus, if she ever gets lost, we'll find her right away!"

You can feel his body better now, pressed up as you are against him. His chest is solid, muscled, and he's wiry but lean behind you as he holds you easily in his grip, locking his legs inside yours.

Your ears tuck down as you squirm nervously, but Satoru's grip holds you tightly in place. The tip of your tail swishes as it winds against Satrou's leg as it presses into yours.

Suguru sits down next to you, one arm wrapping around your back and up over your chest. He presses his cheek to your poor quivering ear, nuzzling into it.

"Mmmh, don't be scared," He hums lowly, a noise like involuntarily relaxes you, "It'll be over quick."

His voice changes, deepening, hardening, and it's like it's coming from someone else entirely when he says - "Satoru. Keep her on the edge, make her cum when it goes in."

A whine escapes you. Goes in? You don't want this.

The assistant's gloved hands nears you as he gets on his knees, sharp eyes darting at your exposed sex, pulling the strange, unfamiliar tool right up to your most vulnerable place.

You whimper, and Suguru kisses your ear, folding it against your head, "Shhh, shhh. Don't be scared. You feel good now, doesn't it?" He says in a voice like honey.

Satoru's fingers dance over your folds. The strokes get shorter and shorter, the bud of your clit swelling up with pleasure and sensitivity alike. Gut churning with arousal, dripping from you, and a rapidly growing anxiety.

"I don't," You say, but your head is already spinning, "I don't, don't, wanna, I don't wanna, please..."

Leaning forward, Suguru tucks some hair behind his ear, showing you his own gauge piercings.

"I have one too, see?" He hums, "Yours will be much smaller, just a little one. It'll barely hurt."

You stare in confusion, tearing up as your own ears flick nervously. He has one too? But this is between your legs!

"No, no no no, please no," You plead with him, "I don't want it, please-"

"Shhhh." Suguru's hand darts up to your mouth, fingers pressing down on your tongue, "Yes you do. You'll love it so much once you have it, don't worry."

He feels silly for trying to explain. That won't calm you down now.

It makes sense that you can't understand. You're just a sweet little kitty, as much as you look like a human, and this is all just scary and uncomfortable for you.

You're a cat hybrid, a domesticated creature. Pets don't have to think about what's best for themselves; their owners do that for them.

He feels your rough tongue squirming against his fingers, drool pooling around them.

It makes him lick his own lips. His pants are tight. He wouldn't be surprised if Satoru hadn't already -

"Hnngh... yeah, kitty, you'll love it," Satoru pants, grinding up against your ass, making you whimper even more.

Suguru lays another heavy kiss on your ear, "Shh, shh. Hold still, kitty, you can do that, can't you?"

In the midst of all the pleasure, the quickening strokes that have your core clenching in anticipation. The fingers in your mouth, the iron grip on your hips, your legs, holding you in place, the bodies against you; Suguru's soft voice is your anchor in a sea of overstimulation.

But all you can do is warble, fangs teething against his skin, just barely not breaking through. You tremble at the effort, gnawing at his knuckles, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

"You're so sweet," He croons, "So good for me. There's a good kitty."

His fingertip draws down along your tongue, triggering your reflexes to suckle at it.

"There you go, nice and ready," Suguru coos, stroking your head, "Keep her close, Satoru."

With one large hand on your hip, holding you steady, Satoru starts rubbing your clit in sharper, fierce circles, coaxing it to stiffen and peek out further.

The assistant tugs back the delicate skin over your clit, all dripping and swollen. He gives it a quick wipe as he pulls the piercing gun in, making you panic even further.

Suguru pets and kisses as you, squeezing at the tension in your shoulder and your neck, while Satoru rubs just beneath your clit, in hard presses that send pleasure shooting through you.

"Feels good, right?" Satoru pants in your other ear, pinning your hips tightly against him and his throbbing erection, "I'm gonna make you feel even better real soon, kitty."

You sniffle helplessly in his lap, clit throbbing as his fingers work your sensitive nub. It sends you closer and closer to release, a tightening coil of anxiety and pleasure curling in your core.

"Hold still," Suguru murmurs softly, "Be good."

And you try; you try to be good and hold still for Suguru, who pets you and strokes you and says nice things to you. But it's so hard. Every fiber of your being wants to flinch away, and the constant stimulation against your clit is nearly blinding, burning hot arousal searing through you.

You're half-trembling with terror. Heart racing as you stare at the piercing gun sliding into place over your wet, exposed cunt.

"You're being so brave," Suguru whispers, "Such a brave little kitty. Just a little longer."

With a final click, the employee pierces you, sending a sharp jolt of pain through you. You shriek at the sensation, and would have jumped if it weren't for Satoru's iron grasp around you.

But Satoru keeps rubbing, your sensitive bud throbbing with both the effects of his touch, and the pain of the piercing now settled in place just over your clit.

It's all too much, the swell of pleasure building in your core until the pain only adds to the intensity. The dam bursts forth, and you choke on Suguru's fingers as you tense up, breathless, all discomfort melting away in the airy bliss of your climax.

"See," Satoru purrs, arms moving to wrap around your chest and hold you close, "Told you I'd make you feel good."

"That wasn't so bad, was it, kitty?" Suguru lays a kiss against your heated cheek, pulling his saliva-slick fingers out of your mouth so you can pant in the aftermath of your release.

"Look, Suguru~!" Satoru grins, cheeks red, as he taps at your new piercing, "It's so cute!"

Suguru straight up smacks his hand away, muttering some admonishment you don't catch; dimly, you register a wetness against your ass, at the front of his pants.

Panting, sweat-soaked, you slump forward as soon as Satoru's grip on you loosens - but it only tightens right up again, drawing a confused mewl from you as Satoru tugs you up to carry in his arms.

There's more kisses to your head, your ears, your burning hot cheeks. A buzz between your legs so sharp you can't even tell if it hurts or feels good, so you settle for whining whenever you're jostled.

"Be careful with her, Satoru."

"I am, I am - aren't you gonna do the paperwork? I think she needs a little aftercare."

You slump helplessly against Satoru's chest, ears flicking to pick up conversations you're too tired to pay attention to. Tail swaying underneath you, slung over one of Satoru's arms.

"Don't start monopolizing her already. We can do that together once we get home."

"I'm the one who wanted her in the first place!" Satoru whines.

Suguru rolls his eyes, "So you admit you went here without me and picked her out first?"

"But you like her, though," Satoru says, giggling, shifting you carefully in his arms to better support your head.

He looks down at you, curled up in his arms, with a satisfied smile, as the paperwork is signed and they're about to leave.

Aren't you just the cutest little kitty he ever did see?

He just knew Suguru would love you. He's playing it cool, but Satoru knows he can't wait to get you home to dote on you, set up rules and routines. He's probably salivating at the thought.

A pet just for them. Docile and sensitive and fuckable, a loving companion to come home to every day, a toy for them to use together or apart.

Satoru tucks your head against the crook of his neck.

He can't wait to break you in.

[kiyutuii]

Sketch from brush testing

I dont think I'll be finishing this

[watchingwisteria]

listen there really was just something about how in the book, snow’s 3-page descent from hesitant lover boy to deluded mfer happens entirely in his mind. lucy gray gives him no indication whatsoever that she suspects him, that she’s going to leave or betray him. he’s just sitting quietly in the cabin waiting for her to return when that seed of calculated suspicion, which he has needed to survive the capitol, takes a hold of him and chokes the life out of any goodness left inside him. it really drives home your terror as a reader that “oh my god did he kill her? did she escape? what happened to her? why would he even think that?” in a way that when the movie had to adjust for visualization it lost some of that holy shit this guy has lost it emphasis.

[lethby]

HEAR ME OUT

So MC specializes in summoning and protective magic right? Cause they asked Solomon and natural talent, respectively.

Then one day, MC is with Solomon and he asks them to bring him something. But then they raise their hand and the object just comes floating to him. And he is SO proud cause like??? His little apprentice learned telekinesis??? On their own??? And pretty good???

And he starts singing praises with a stupid smile on his face and MC just smiles and thanks him cause it's really not that weird for him to get excited at their magic.

Then another day they do the same thing, but before the object flies through the air, he catches them mumble something about "Spirit of Wind" during the incantation. He's kinda confused and he asks them.

"Wait what do you mean wind?"

"What?"

"Just now, didn't you use telekinesis?"

"You didn't teach me telekinesis"

AND NOW HE IS EVEN MORE PROUD??? Cause what do you mean you're using the wind??? Do you know how much control over pressure, force and direction you need to do that??? He bets it's even harder than normal telekinesis???

Meanwhile MC stands there a little confused before Solomon's bewildered expression turns into a laugh as he goes to hug them.

"I really do have the most amazing apprentice in the world huh?"

[themidnightcrimson]

she's my collar ࿏ wm

summary: in which you make wanda wait to get what she so desperately needs.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon, enhanced strap, cumstrap, orgasm denial, teasing, grinding, use of leash and collar, slight breeding kink, please wanda let me make you beg to fuck me pleaseee i cant oauidsuhfwoierhoquihr

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

You knew that her mind wasn’t there all night. Distracted she was, eyes empty yet darkly full like the face of the moon, bouncing around the room with a blankness, but when they caught you… When they caught you, her pupils swarmed like a wolf’s, olive green irises hazy under dim light.

Of course, you recognized that look on her face—that look of pure desperation, of pure carnivorous need for you, nervous and impatient and dialed and lustrous. Wanda was not good at hiding it, not in the least bit. You could see right through her, which was something she was not used to, for in her view it was always the other way around. You could not boast her telekinetic powers, yet you flipped through the pages of her brain like a mastermind, fingers dog-earing the pages you knew tortured her most.

Wanda licked her lips discreetly, casting a shine on their soft pink surface. This was an act easily overlooked by everyone else at the table, but you knew exactly what it meant. It meant that she was getting needier and needier for you, getting so riled up to the point of near drooling. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, took a rushed sip of her drink and nearly spilled it. She’d been like this all night, ever since you leaned up on those little tiptoes of yours and whispered something so disgustingly unrepeatable in her ear in that innocent little voice you knew she loved.

It also didn’t help that now your foot was reaching under the table and massaging her enhanced cock over her pants. Wanda’s face twitched each time you stroked your foot up the inside of her thigh and right to the bulge in her crotch, the hard flat of your shoe digging as delicately as it could onto her.

You were sitting at a table surrounded by Wanda’s friends, all caught up in their own conversation, all completely unaware of the torture you were mercilessly laying on Wanda under the table.

Red hair curtaining her face and darkening her eyes, Wanda leaned her elbow on the table and rubbed her fist over her mouth, letting her teeth graze her knuckles. The great thing, and the twisted thing about it, was that Wanda could stop you if she wanted to. She was taller than you, stronger than you, undoubtedly more powerful than you. Wanda’s magic allowed her the ability to do whatever she wanted to you, or to anyone, for that matter. Most people feared her and avoided ticking her off like their lives depended on it because if she was in a bad mood, it certainly could.

Wanda could control your mind and make you stop. She could simply reach down and push your foot off her. You weren’t forcing anything on her.

She liked it.

You realized early on in your relationship that although Wanda puts up a front of nonchalant dominance and power, there was a part deep inside her that fed off the opposite. With you, and only you, Wanda let herself have no power. She let herself be vulnerable, be manipulated, be used. She let you have all the control. Only you.

And with that power she gave you, came great responsibility. And you used it to the best of your ability to absolutely positively torture the fuck out of this woman at every chance you got.

A grin shocked your face when Wanda’s face started to turn noticeably red. She squirmed in her chair as everyone else continued with their conversations and their eating and drinking, while Wanda’s cock bulged painfully at the fabric of her pants. She cursed herself for wearing sweatpants even though all her friends demanded that they dress cozy for their little casual dinner.

Wanda’s green eyes slowly rose to you, and there was a mix of desperation in them and also a tint of red. A warning.

You laughed out loud.

The red in her eyes faded as she looked around to make sure no one heard you laugh, a look of defeat coming over her face before that desperation came back again. Please stop, she communicated to you in your mind, her tender voice ricocheting off the walls of your brain. You winced a little—it still stung every time she used her powers on you after not using them for a while. She rarely did.

Why? you responded in your head, focusing all your energy on making your inner voice loud enough for her to hear. You could always feel it when she was inside your head. She didn’t like the power it gave her, so she rarely used it, but there was always a slight buzzing in your head when Wanda was in it. I love seeing you get so needy for me. What, you don’t like it?

You dug your shoe harder into her, and she almost squeaked.

I can’t… It almost hurts… Please- Everyone’s here- In public- It feels too good- I need you…

Wanda was losing her train of thought, her ideas coming out in punctuated, nearly incoherent sentences in your head. You smirked—she was going fuzzy for you. That was exactly where you wanted her.

Finally, you slowly released your foot from her crotch, letting your shoe drag along the inside of her leg until you finally dropped it. Wanda sighed in relief and took another shaky sip of her drink to cover it. Turning slightly away from everyone, she fiddled with the fabric of her pants, trying to cover the hard-on you’d mercilessly given her.

When dinner ended and your friends finally all got in their cars and left the restaurant parking lot that was now empty beside Wanda’s car, Wanda was on you.

Hands grabbing your hips, Wanda pushed you against the side of her car, instantly pressing her body onto you. You felt her cock against your hip, still hard, getting harder. She dug her hips against you as her lips devoured yours, slowly letting herself start to grind on you.

“Mmm-Wanda,” you murmured into her mouth before she shoved her tongue into yours, grinding herself so much onto you that she was basically humping you against her car in this empty parking lot. “Wanda, stop.”

“Mmmh-mmh,” she hummed into your mouth, panting breathlessly, her hands going to your jeans and trying to tug them down.

“Wanda, no,” you said with a laugh, using firm grip to shove her hands away from you. You knew that if you weren’t firm with her, she would fuck you right here in this public lot against her car. The thought was hot, but the federal offense wasn’t.

“Please,” she begged, pulling your hand down to her crotch and making you feel her. “I need you. It hurts. Pleaseeeee.” She went in for a kiss again, but you gently pushed her face away from yours.

“You have to wait until we get home, baby,” you told her, watching her eyes immediately widen in disbelief. To be fair, it was a half hour drive home.

“What?! No, please, just suck me off in the car,” she exclaimed, pushing herself harder onto you. As insistent as she was, that was exactly what you wanted her to be when you were building her up all through dinner.

“Nuh-uh, get in the car. You have to wait until we get home,” you said firmly, giving her some gentle taps on her cheek and ignoring the incredibly pouty look on her face as you made your way to the passenger side of the car.

Huffing, Wanda obeyed and got in the driver’s seat. You knew it was evil, physically working her up for hours just to make her wait even longer for release, but as much as she huffed and groaned, it only made her all the more desperate for you.

࿏

Your hand on Wanda’s shoulder pushed her onto the couch of the little apartment you shared. It was a cozy place which Wanda let you have full control over decorating, though you embedded a touch of her in everything. The wallpaper, appearing to be a pretty white and red floral pattern, was actually encrypted with runes. The couch, a nostalgic green and yellow plaid, was actually the same pattern as the shirt Wanda was wearing when you first met. All the kitchen spatulas and ladles were red silicone after her signature color, and watercolor paintings of different kinds of witches hung on the walls. It was your sacred space together.

Wanda landed on the couch with a huff, and you immediately straddled her, throwing one leg over her lap and nestling down as you held your hand behind your back. Wanda perked when she heard a familiar metal clink coming from behind you when you sat down on her. Smirking, you brought your hand in front of you, revealing the pair of handcuffs.

“Baby, no,” she instantly growled, her hands grabbing your wrists. She hated when you cuffed her so that she couldn’t touch you, not for the lack of control, but because not touching you was incredibly hard for her.

“Baby, yes,” you responded with a smirk, waiting for her to let go of your wrists so you could do what you needed to do. When she didn’t, you merely lifted your brow, eyes hardening.

Wanda looked at you with pleading in her eyes which also flickered to the silver shine of the handcuffs, her wrists buzzing as they remembered the cold, hard embrace of them. Finally, she gave in, slowly letting go of your wrists.

“That’s it,” you whispered with a sharp grin. “You listen so well.”

Wanda’s soft cheeks blushed a gentle maroon as she instinctively put her wrists behind her back and leaned forward, letting her chin rest on your shoulder. You could feel how warm her body was, so close to you.

Leaning forward, you cuffed her wrists behind her back and guided her to sit back against the couch properly. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you asked in an innocent tone as you moved to get up, letting your knee brush the thing in her pants that indeed was very hard.

The maroon in her cheeks deepened. Wanda watched you, her red hair slightly covering her lips which were already agape and letting out measured, heavy breaths. You stood before her, letting your knees touch her bent ones, and pulled your shirt over your head. Wanda’s eyes followed you the way a lion follows its prey, tracking every little movement, totally locked in for the kill, nostrils flaring with the scent of blood. There was no mistaking that where dominance lacked in Wanda, lust replaced it. If you didn’t make her follow your rules, you were sure she would be fucking you every minute of the day with her enhanced strap.

While you had spent working Wanda up all night, you had also worked up yourself. You could feel the wetness in your underwear as you stripped down to wearing only those lacy black panties, your clothes and bra left discarded on the carpet at Wanda’s feet. She was pitching a tent now, squirming at the mere sight of you. You’d trained her so well.

“I can’t recall you ever being this whiny,” you chuckled as you slowly and gracefully got back on Wanda’s lap, your core buzzing with the new exposure. As you straddled her, you let your buzzing core line with her crotch, settling down on her bulge and sighing deeply with satisfaction. Wanda made an incoherent noise and twitched, squirming more as you sat right on her strap. With the pressure, you could feel even more how wet you were at the center, your closeness with Wanda now increased with the absence of another layer.

Wanda, distracted from your slight as she struggled to remain calm with the incredible warmth of you directly on her, let her eyes graze over your bare chest. Her arms twitched behind her, cuffs clinking, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her obvious attempt to touch you before remembering she was tied. She let out a groan that escalated into another whine.

“See? Whiny thing,” you remarked. Letting your fingers tangle in Wanda’s hair, admiring just how pretty she was, you suddenly rolled your hips over her with the perfect amount of pressure. Wanda gasped, the cuffs clinking harder as her body jerked in an instinct to grab your hips. Chuckling, you rolled your hips again, feeling through the thin fabric of your panties and the soft fabric of Wanda’s sweatpants as your clit rubbed onto the hardness of her cock. Wetness gushed more out of you.

“Fuck, baby,” Wanda whined as you began to grind down on her cock, the mere image of your nearly naked body straddling her lap, your back arching just right, your tits so near to her face, would have been enough for her to get the release she desperately needed if you were not denying her of it.

And God how pretty she looked. Her green eyes so full of shadow now, brimming with lust, staring up at you from under her brows, something between a lip bite and a smirk on her face. Her red hair fell more in front of her face now, shadowing it further, brows creasing with frustration. That was what you desired most about Wanda—how deeply and with fiery passion she desired you right back.

A moan escaped your lips as you watched her, how worked up she was, the way she was trying not to buck her hips up to meet your grinding, her cock warm and twitchy under the tense fabric of her pants as you rolled your clit over it, feeling your folds slip together with how wet you were now. Torturing her, teasing her.

“I’m gonna—”

“No,” you instantly denied her, feeling her cock bulge more underneath your slit. “You’re not allowed.”

“But—” Wanda tried to argue breathily, her voice raspy and heavy, brows still creased with frustration.

“Hold it,” you demanded, letting your fingers tug harshly at her hair. “Be a good girl for me and hold it. You can wait, can’t you? Is this all it takes to make you spill?”

The whine that escaped from that woman’s lips was enough to push you three steps closer to the edge.

“I-I’ve been waiting all night,” she groaned, closing her eyes now, squeezing them shut hard. She looked so cute, wincing, gritting her teeth together, the cuffs clinking wildly as she squirmed and tried to not buck her hips into you.

“You can wait longer,” you harshly spat, breath heavy as you grinded yourself more wildly, bouncing on her bulge, tugging hard at her soft hair. “Fuck… fuck…” Your stomach tightened, hole clenching around nothing as you finally reached your orgasm.

Wanda threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, teeth clenching so hard that sharp pains erupted in her jaws, as she used every ounce of strength in her to not cum. She was desperate for release, but she was more desperate to obey you and please you.

Nosediving into Wanda’s neck, you inhaled her glorious scent as you came down from your high, moaning softly in her ear that burned at the sound, slowing your hips down. She whined pathetically in your ear, practically trembling under you.

Pulling away, you got up slightly and saw that there was now a large dark wet spot right on Wanda’s crotch. First thinking she had cum without telling you but then remembering that she would never do that without telling you, you realized it was your wetness that had seeped through your underwear, mixed with a little bit of her precum helplessly leaking in her pants. Clear strings kept you connected to the wet spot as you lifted, standing up from her lap.

Wanda already looked like she was in incredible pain. Her lips were ajar, head leaning against the couch cushion, her crotch still bulged now with a pathetic wet spot on it.

“You’re pathetic,” you told her with a chuckle as you kicked your pants down your legs and to the floor. Wanda peaked at this, sitting up a little better.

“I need to be inside you,” she told you directly. Just because Wanda submitted to you did not make her unable to be lustfully honest with you. “It hurts, baby, I need to be inside.”

Heat washed over you at her declaration of need for you, hitting you right in your clit that was still throbbing. As much as you loved torturing her endlessly, you also always anticipated finally giving her what she wanted.

But you weren’t quite done yet.

Going closer to her, you uncuffed the handcuffs and instead pulled something else out of the drawer of the end table.

Wanda’s leash and collar.

An excellent scarlet leather, her leash and collar were tools you rarely used, but when you did, it made Wanda weak. She was already practically drooling as you clipped the collar around her pretty neck and clipped the leash to the ring at the front, letting the cold metal chain of the leash zip through your hands as you tugged on it, forcing Wanda’s head closer to you.

But now Wanda’s hands were free, and they were all over you. Grabbing at your tits, your hardened nipples, scratching your waist, groping your hips. Her eyes stared up at you blankly as you held the leash in your hand.

Power. Control. Authority. These were things that no one had ever been able to boast having over Wanda. She was always the one with the power.

Except with you. You now controlled her, leather and chain in palm, collar digging at the tenderness of her neck.

Smirking, you leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips before you slowly laid down on the other end of the couch, legs spread open, pussy red and glistening.

“C’mere,” was all you had to say, and Wanda was already lowering herself between your legs, frantically pushing down her sweatpants to reveal her scarlet enhanced strap that bounced and poked at your inner thigh.

“Wait,” you ordered right as she started to line herself up with you. She stopped, eyes snapping up at you impatiently but also expectantly, ready to take your orders but overwhelmed with physical need. “Beg,” you whispered, tugging on the leash in your hand, causing Wanda’s head to jerk forward. “I want you to beg for my pussy.”

Wanda melted, lowering herself down so she was closer to you. “Please,” she started, her hand coming to rest on your neck gently. “Please let me have your pussy.” Nearly panting, she left a hot kiss at the corner of your jaw. “Please let me fuck you. I need your pussy. I need to be inside you. Please let me.” There was pain in her voice, her cock poking again at your inner thigh, nearly hot to the touch from the intensity of the magic flowing within her. “Please, please, please.” She left rushed, heavy kisses all up and down your jaw, her hands slipping under you to grab at your ass, her hips trembling between your open legs. Your hole ached for her.

“Fine,” you whispered, turning your face to nip at the tip of her ear, causing her to yelp. “Fuck me, pathetic thing.”

With a groan of excitement, Wanda grabbed her cock and lined it with your entrance, recklessly snapping her hips forward to shove herself inside you. Though she was large enough to still stretch you, she slipped in with ease from how wet your cunt already was. Her cock filled you, swarming all the way inside until she landed at your cervix, causing you to yell out and throw your head back in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her face feeling hot with embarrassment as she laid it on your cool chest. “Fuck, sorry,” she apologized as she started to wildly fuck you, every inch of her cock burying deep inside you. Since she was so large, she usually started off slow with you, but she was giving you every bit of her, her cock going as deep as it could physically go inside you. You could feel her in your lower belly, rearranging your guts as she pumped inside you with chaotic rhythm.

There was hardly any trace of rhythm as Wanda plowed herself inside you, gently biting at the skin of your chest and digging her nails into your hips to keep you still. You were sure that if you tried to leave now, Wanda might murder you whether or not on accident. Though she submitted to you, she took absolute hold of you once you gave yourself to her.

A shriek of pain escaped your lips, your hands scratching hard at Wanda’s warm back under her shirt. Her sweatpants were shrugged at her knees, her ass bare in the air as it plowed between your legs. The couch squeaked shamefully under the weight of your bodies. Her leash bounced against her chest, the other end held loosely in your palm still.

“Sorry,” Wanda mumbled over and over each time you made a noise of pain, but she made no effort to slow down until her hips started to catch. Wanda’s moans turned higher in pitch as she buried her face into your neck and suddenly stopped, pulling her cock out of you and hovering her hips completely still between your legs.

Catching your breath, you tried to turn your head to look at Wanda, but her face was buried in your neck. She was even holding her breath.

“Wanda, what’s wrong?” you asked with concern, tugging softly at her leash which made her let out a little hum.

“I… I have to stop for a second,” she breathed hard into your neck finally.

“Why?”

“Because I—I keep—I keep almost cumming.”

Your lips twirled into a curl as the woman trembled on top of you.

“Keep going,” you firmly demanded.

Wanda made no movement, only shifted her face in your neck. “I just need a—”

“No.” With a harsh tug on her leash, Wanda lifted her head and looked at you, eyes crazed. “I said keep going.”

Wanda made a face in argument, but you locked your legs around her hips and forced her down between your legs again, reaching down and grabbing her cock with your hand.

“Ah!” Wanda started as you basically forced her back inside you, sighing at the stretch as she filled you again.

Wanda hung her head and made no movement, breathing hard in an obvious effort to control herself. With how sensitive her enhanced strap was, even feeling the pressure of your tight cunt around her was too much to bear.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, yanking harder again at her leash and letting it slap against her. The skin of her neck around the collar was starting to blush red.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda slowly rolled her hips and pumped herself in and out of you, simultaneously letting out a whine. “Please, can I please c—”

“No,” you responded, grabbing her hips and forcing her to go faster. “You can’t cum until I say you can, and you can’t stop, either.”

Biting her lip so hard it turned white and squeezing her eyes shut, Wanda fucked you painfully. While it hurt her to hold back her orgasm that had been a long time coming all night, she was completely lost in total pleasure. You felt so wet and warm around her, so tight and welcoming, your walls clenching around her shaft. She was obsessed with you and being inside you. It was her favorite place to be, yet it was where she had the least control.

“Faster,” you demanded, and Wanda attempted to pick up her speed, but every single movement was an offensive attack on her control. She was almost pale, trembling above you and not daring to open her eyes in fear that the sight of you would make her spill.

Growing impatient, you grunt and push her away, her cock leaving you with a wet pop. Confused, Wanda let you grab her and push her to the ground, forcing her to sit against the bottom part of the couch as you found yourself straddling her again. Lining your entrance with her tip, you gave Wanda no time to prepare as you slammed yourself down on her strap, tugging her leash at the same time.

“Fuck!” Wanda yelled out as you fucked yourself onto her on the floor, bouncing up and down on her cock that now hammered harshly inside you. Wanda’s nails dug hard into your sides, drawing blood, but you continued forcing every inch of her cock inside you with sickeningly wet sloshing noises.

“Baby, baby, baby, baby,” Wanda breathed, panting, eyes closed. She started to push at your hips, kicking her legs and trying to get you off of her. “Baby, I can’t stop it, I can’t stop.” She pushed hard at you to get you off her, and you knew it was because she had to ask to cum inside you, and if you decided to deny her, there was no way she’d be able to stop herself. And oh, how Wanda wanted so badly to be good for you.

You’d only let Wanda do it inside once before, knowing the value of the reward that you so often hung over her head during sex. You would promise to let her cum inside then shove her off you at the last moment, forcing her to cum all over your stomach or tits instead.

Licking your teeth with your tongue, you cradled the back of Wanda’s head, leash held taut in your hand, and came close to her face to whisper, “Cum inside me.”

Wanda’s eyes snapped open, and as if your words were a remote control to the machine of her body, she released.

Expletives came rushing out of Wanda’s mouth one after the other, most of them mostly incoherent from the incessant moan that escaped her throat. Wanda’s cock finally bulged one last time before unloading inside you, her hot cum shooting deep in your tummy. You forced yourself down as far as possible on her cock so that her cum would go deep inside you, biting down on her trembling shoulder as she filled you up with a seemingly endless amount of cum.

It was several moments before Wanda was able to finally compose herself, head thrown back against the seat of the couch, her body basically limp. The skin around her collar was deep red now from how much you had tugged on the leash.

As much as you loved seeing Wanda being torturously teased, seeing her wonderfully relieved was almost equal in beauty. She was so relaxed now, a stupid smile on her slightly sweaty face, her cock gleefully limp inside you, her cum nestled in your tummy.

Humming, you kissed her neck and whispered, “You like cumming in my unprotected cunt, don’t you?”

If possible, Wanda’s skin blushed harder as she slowly nodded, her hands gently rubbing up and down your waist.

You grazed your smirking lips against her ear. “Wanna do it again?”

With that, her strap stiffened inside you.