#saplessness

[xydawyxxm47c]

Sloppy Public Blowjob In Washroom skinny preggo teen gets big cock interracial fucked Ts angel blows like hell before riding perfect male cock Japanese maid wants a cock for her pussy Fishnets and panties on girl giving lap dance Wife flashing friends Pendeja Hermosa Bus Salta Teen stockings anal hd and young german amateur xxx Valerie White may Quickie quarantine sex 1. New pinay milf swallow vid. Physical boy gay sex videos first time Good comrades Fucking On

[jqtexwrndhxzo]

Katrina Moreno doggystyle Hot busty babes eating each others cunt Mi profesora de ingles me dijo que no me venga adentro y me le vine Misha Cross se prend une grosse bite dans le cul Amateur Asian shemale hottie enjoys no condom anal Kylie Jenner Slutting on Instagram Horny blonde granny loves hardcore bukkake Fucking girlfriend in the ass Pakistani xxx boys to and penis of teenage gay first time While in Amazing patient fucked from behind by dr

[wnbhddjowh2eyh]

Stuning feet teen girl Two Officers Take Turns Fucking Thick Latina Teen After She Was Caught Shoplifting Cock sucking teen porno first timer jizzed Young gay boy sex clips and teen age sleeping male video Dude bellows Free movietures of straight men nude gay You never know, maybe next Sexy Redbone strokes herself with dildo booty wobble twerking her yellow dress at club in the restroom Ganhando uma mamada Mathilde Ramos group bukkake blowbang swallow scene by Cum For Cover Shower wife Missouri

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 6. Those we oppose

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, noncon, dom/sub, dom!Feyd, bondage, spanking, the beginning of a little cockwarming

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu

We tend to become like the worst in those we oppose.

— Bene Gesserit Coda

Feyd didn’t wait for them to return to what had become their shared bedroom. With their meal half-done and cooling he got up and strode to her, his long legs reaching her in two steps and a half and grabbed her by the scruff. She yelped and reached for his wrist, but he was already pulling away at her veil. He threw it somewhere behind him.

“Not here,” she hissed.

“Why? Are you afraid?” he grinned. “Afraid of the servants hearing you?”

His white hand grabbed her by the throat and pulled her up while with the other he reached for the knife set beside her plate. He licked it clean and as he pulled her flush against his chest he set it at her throat.

“What they see doesn’t matter,” he whispered to her. “What they hear doesn’t matter… So, my dear Bene Gesserit, be as loud as you like.”

She wasn’t, of course. She was quite stoic while he pulled her to the head of the table. Her head moved back, leaning almost over his shoulder to avoid the knife. Feyd pretended to hold it quite carelessly but he knew very well where it was aimed and how close it was to her skin. He reached for his cup and drank the rest of the wine then threw it away and pushed his plates aside. Then both his hands moved just as quickly to shove forth against the table.

She cut off her own scream, exercising a control he almost could admire if his mind wasn’t on other things. He remembered in fragments his meeting with Lady Fenring. How his self-control was paused right after she spoke. How she took charge of his body with only her eyes. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he feared these witches, but —

“Measures have to be taken,” he rasped.

She clearly didn’t understand what he meant but she clenched her hands anyway, bracing for something. Feyd caressed her chest. Slowly his body came to loom above her and then she felt his knife right at her lips. He slotted it between her teeth, right on her tongue. Oddly enough, it made her calmer. At least she knew what he feared now… Losing control.

His other hand roamed across her body, pulling and tugging at the strange constraints of her clothes. The Harkonnen slaves were dressed quite plainly, he wasn’t familiar with this sort of thing at all… But he didn’t need to be.

“Let’s just see what’s inside you then,” he whispered as he started tugging up her skirts.

She stiffened, her legs tensing, shifting, breath fogging on the knife. She closed her eyes when he laid the layers of material across her waist. Feyd didn’t move at all and without being able to look at him it was impossible for her to try to read his thoughts, but she knew what he was seeing.

“Very modest,” he chuckled. “For a witch.”

He laid himself more heavily against her, pressing her into the table, making her breaths catch within her throat, and delighted in the sense of fear that grew inside her. He closed his eyes and nuzzled the back of her head, burying his nose in the rich crown of her hair, brushing his lips against it. It smelled warm from being so close to her body all day, and faintly sweet and salty, but more than anything it felt soft in a way quite different from skin. He could fall asleep with his face buried in it.

She’d relaxed beneath him, he could feel it. Even her legs were sapless and now her stomach pressed more tightly against the table as she let her feet rest upon the floor. Feyd held her waist tightly as if testing the frailty of her body, moving his hard caress from her soft stomach to the hard bone of her hip. She winced uncomfortably, but then he moved his hand away and before she could guess what he intended —

“Aaah!” she yelped through the blade, barely holding herself from moving forward and cutting herself on the edge.

He’d spanked her. Her thighs tightened protectively but she knew it wouldn’t help. Feyd chuckled as he felt her squirm beneath him and moved slightly to the side, not to get his weight off her but to make room for more.

“Sit still now,” he whispered in her ear. “I like those lips of yours.”

His hand came down on her again. She could feel her body shifting from the impact and her hips were already bruised. The sound burst like a thunderclap in the vast room followed by the whisper of her sighing. She closed her eyes and blinked the tears away. She hadn’t been punished like this since she was a little girl…

“These should get out of the way,” he muttered. “I don’t like them.”

He tugged on the undergarments that enclosed her from waist to feet and managed to do it while keeping the knife quite still between her teeth. When she started shivering he could hear the clatter of them. He chuckled.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” he rasped against her ear. “What could I possibly do to you… that you haven’t done to me already?”

And as he spoke he slid his pale hand up her thigh and curled it inward. She groaned mutely, trying to hide her fears behind protestations, but Feyd merely smiled at her. She could feel the gentle swelling of his cheeks against her neck.

Then like a bolt of lightning, and just as unexpected, he struck her once again. She yelped, her body trying to curl inward, away from the blows, but the table was fixed into the floor and the blade pulled at the edges of her mouth and all she could do was breathe and try to calm herself. She thought back to her training, to the things the Sisters told themselves to drive their fears away, but Feyd’s hand was ever at her back in turn petting her skin and spanking it to blushing.

“That’s it,” he hissed between hard slaps, nuzzling the soft back of her throat. “Take it quietly… like you’re supposed to…”

He focused on one cheek and hit her again and again on the same spot until her eyes were leaking and her teeth clenched on the blade. She could no longer tell the difference between his fingers and his palm, the whole area incensed and tender, both sensitive and dull.

She nearly sobbed when he stopped and finally, with the echoes of the spanking faded, she could hear just how loudly he was breathing. There was a taste of iron in her mouth, but she knew it wasn’t blood. His chest within its leather armour moved against her back and he rested his palm on her. She winced and nearly jumped but his touch was gentle, for the moment.

“Oh…” he gasped then giggled. “You’ve made my hand all hot.”

It was, she could tell, just as warm as her skin right now. He’d hurt himself almost as much as her…

Feyd pulled the blade away from her mouth but she could hardly catch her breath before he brought the other palm to quiet her. His hand, hot from spanking her ass, was clasped tightly over her mouth and the other moved behind her. She knew what he wanted to do before he did it… He cut her clothes off from her back. However much she struggled, he pressed down against her. It was impossible to buck him off, she would only bruise herself more. He giggled when he felt her tears wet his fingers, but his hand stayed firm over her mouth.

When he tore enough of her dress away and threw its tatters to the side he finally paused and ran his free hand across her back. He caressed her in a straight straight line from the nape of her neck down her spine and to her heated buttocks.

“You’re shivering,” he rasped. “Are you cold, or is it me?”

She couldn’t speak, of course, but even if she could — what would she say to him?

“I take it you’re just cold, then. Not to worry. I’ll warm my girl up.”

His touch left her for a moment and she heard a shifting of leather behind her. Then he brought the other hand over to her mouth and with it something new. A belt.

“Hold still now,” he murmured as he gagged her, tying it behind her head. “That’s it, good witch…”

She bit at it and growled but all it got out of Feyd was giggles. With a softer belt, one of her own, he tied her wrists at her back. He enjoyed the result by caressing her body with both hands, from her fragile neck to her tense back, down toward her waist, and lower. She pressed her forehead to the table and tried to close her legs but he noticed none of it. His hands explored her like a long sought-after gift, savouring the feeling of her skin, the hint of fragile bones beneath, and the shivers he could feel that ran through her.

“You’re not enjoying it?” he asked. “Can’t have that… After all, I enjoyed you so much.”

She grumbled but he’d already distanced himself from her. Looking over her shoulder she couldn’t see him. She realised he’d kneeled behind her when she felt him bite her thigh.

“Mmmh!”

“That’s more like it,” he giggled, nuzzling her soft flesh.

He held her legs bruisingly tight as he brushed the cushion of his folds up and down, up and down, then kissed upwards until he reached her ass. She jumped when he bit into her cheek but Feyd only laughed, delighted.

“So sweet,” he muttered. “Sweeter than it has any right to be. Oh, if my darlings got their hands on you…”

She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but she knew she didn’t want to find out.

His hands scraped upwards and he hooked his thumbs into her cheeks, easing them apart. She muttered from behind the gag but her voice was already weak, unconvincing even to her ears. She blushed fiercely when he paused and did nothing because she knew he was simply looking at her. His breath fanned across her heated skin, tickling her almost, and however tightly she pressed her legs together she knew it was no use.

“Oh, would you look at that,” he cooed, which sounded frightening in his rough voice. “Two tight little holes and a little button to play with. How sweet…”

She bit at the belt between her teeth and moved her head every which way, trying to get it out of her mouth so she could use the Voice, but he’d tied it behind her head in such a way that it wouldn’t budge.

His thumb moved from her cheek to press against one plush lip and to her embarrassment she felt herself begin to drip right down her slit. He watched it, traced the sleek slow path with his gaze, and before the watery droplet could reach her clit he picked it up and took it to his mouth.

“Like honey,” he muttered with his lips around his thumb.

Holding her still harshly open with one hand, he started spanking her again with the other. This time it was on the cheek he had earlier ignored. He worked hard to get them both an equal shade. She yelped at the impact and started a breathing exercise to calm down, but she could not put out of her mind what was happening to her. With each slap of his hand, she clenched and he saw it, and when more wetness was pressed out of her with each clenching of her intimate muscles, he saw that too. He spanked her again and again and again until his arm grew tired.

“That’s it, take it like that,” he growled behind her, his voice breathless and distracted. “Yeah, you’ll be good now, won’t you? Be a good girl for me…”

Then he stopped quite suddenly and held her cheeks apart. He leaned in and, so quickly she almost didn’t feel it, dragged his tongue from her clit up to her throbbing hole. She yelped and tried to kick her feet, but he had already moved away. It wasn’t even an attempt to clean her up — if anything, she was only wetter from his mouth now. He’d just wanted a taste.

While she caught her breath, she could hear him fumbling behind her, moving quickly — he was taking off his armour. She struggled, expecting him to be atop her any moment, but the looming presence of his body moved away and, instead, he grabbed her.

Feyd sat back on the chair and pulled her into his lap. With a warm hand still stinging from the hits he’d given her, he held her jaw up, and with the other, he arranged her just the way he liked.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s going to hurt, but you’ll cum anyway, won’t you?”

She shivered as he nuzzled the back of her head, enjoying the softness of her hair and the warmth and the human scent of her. He moved her over his lap and spread her legs with his, bringing her to a position where she could hardly stand or fight him back or try to get away, but she still tried, struggling in his grasp that was slippery with sweat.

Feyd grabbed her tightly by the waist and caught the back of the belt between his teeth, pulling her in every way down onto him. His cock was hard and pointing toward her, leaking down its length so much it pooled beneath his balls, soiling the chair. She could only bring herself a little higher before he brought her down again and nudged his tip between her lips. She yelped and nearly slid out of his grasp, but each attempt to get away only worked her lower, lower down his shaft.

Feyd groaned with pleasure when he nudged his head inside and quickly let go of her waist to grip her breasts with both hands. He squeezed them gently as he started thrusting, steadily bullying himself into her tight and throbbing hole, and in a sudden inspiration of cruelty, he pinched both of her nipples. She gasped and cried wordlessly but his teeth tightened on the belt and pulled her lower while his fingers remorselessly squeezed at her buds.

She slid down with some difficulty. Although she was leaking all over him, her hole was tense and clenching against the intrusion. Feyd didn’t stop. She fell atop him more out of exhaustion than anything else and winced in pain. The fingers around her nipples relaxed only enough for him to slap them, punishing them for every bit of pleasure that she felt. She felt tears stream down her cheeks while Feyd purred with pleasure, his teeth now nibbling at her neck.

“That’s it, good girl, stay there,” he muttered, sounding almost drunk. “I just want to stay in you a while…”

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x reader; Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza and Nakime.

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, loss of virginity, language, sugar daddy dynamics, age gap (Muzan is 35, reader is 21), vaginal sex, reference to cheating, unprotected sex, creampie, dom!muzan, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, light choking.

Plot: Kokushibo comes to pick you up and he helps you with the move. During the car ride, Muzan texts you and blatantly tells you that he intends to have sex with you that very night. You spend the day exploring your new house, interacting with the other two bodyguards, until Muzan finally joins you for dinner. He seems genuinely interested in you and your habits and, when he leads you to his bedroom, you can clearly tell he is definitely invested into exploring every inch of your body.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello, there!

I’ve finally been able to update the second part of this short series. I hope you’re going to enjoy the reading and thank you so much for the support you’re showing me! Make sure to read the first part, before you proceed in reading this one. Things are finally getting started down here ;). Likes, comments and reposts are appreciated!

PART ONE| PART TWO| PART THREE| PART FOUR| PART FIVE | PART SIX

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

CORRUPTION.

“How’s Mr. Kibutsuji?” you asked, shooting an interrogative glance at Kokushibo through the rear-view mirror of the car. Time had really flown and, before you could mentally prepare yourself to the radical change in your life, it was already Sunday and you had just locked the front door of your apartment, pestered by uncertainties about your new busy schedule and, most likely, new life-style.

“He is a respectful, classy man, miss L/N” the driver flatly replied, not averting his eyes from the road. It was your third failed attempt to make a small conversation with the stolid man, who was most likely going to be your bodyguard as well. You had had the chance to read all the clauses of the contract and it did not seem unpleasing. Except for your lack of privacy, due to being followed and watched in every step you took by a potential serial killer.

If you had to spend hours in Kokushibo’s company, then you would have liked to know him better, at least.

You sighed and rested your forehead against the cold car window “Yeah, I know. – you said, batting your eyes close for a few seconds – Do you think we could ever be friends? I mean, you’re going to be my shadow for the rest of my life. It’s weird and I… Uhm, well, I’d like to feel comfortable around you” you said, opting for a blatant request.

You were spontaneous, honest, and best known for speaking your thoughts without fear, or remorse. You would have surely not changed your attitude for a contract. Plus, it was not like you were rude. You liked to think yourself free to say and do whatever you pleased. Well, at least, when you were safe from prying eyes.

It took a few seconds for Kokushibo to reply something, but eventually he did and a skeptical “As you wish, ma’am” left his lips.

You rolled your eyes, palming your forehead in defeat. It was a lost cause, was it not? Nevertherless, it was your second time interacting with him. There was still a dim hope of breaking through his detached heart.

“Y/N, call me Y/N” you breathed out, expecting some kind of reaction from the taciturn bodyguard. However, he kept his mouth shut and you realised that, perhaps, Kokushibo was not just a man of few words: he probably found it odd that ‘the boss’s fiancé’ wanted to strike up a conversation with him.

You were about to pest him again with another sapless question, when your phone buzzed. You thought it was one of your friends, or maybe your collegues from the small restaurant you worked in. Some of them were heartbroken, when you announced them you had to resign for personal reasons. You could only imagine their faces, when they would have seen your face on the newspapers as Muzan’s wife.

You had still not filled up anyone with the fresh news, chiefly because you were not sure about the outcome of this arranged relationship.

However, when you read the text, you wheezed and clasped your hand over your mouth not to draw Kokushibo’s attention. Funny how you had acted as an attention seeker for fifteen minutes straight and now you were practically ducking your head down not to let him see your reflection in the rear-view mirror. Two words. He had opted for two mere words and your world had stopped revolving.

MUZAN: Sex. Tonight.

Your heart thrummed in your chest as you had to reread the text over and over again to check if you had read it correct. You had exchanged numbers before you left his house and you expected him to text you, at least, once or twice in the past few days. Yet, he had not called or even sent you a trivial message. Nothing. You did not quite expect him to demand a sexual performance from you, out of the blue. You were totally in, of course you were. Muzan Kibutsuji was handsome as Hell, you had always drooled after him, whenever the daily reports showed pictures and videos of him, especially during a conference.

You had accepted the terms of the contract without blinking. Having a sexual intercourse with him was a pleasing activity.

The thing was you were a virgin. Well, you had only experience with giving oral. That was the furthest you had gone with your ex. You knew that sooner or later it would have happened and you were electrified by the idea of giving yourself to him. He was a famous womanizer, unfortunately, but he was surely someone who had plenty of experience and knew how to treat a woman in bed.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” you uttered under your breath, cheeks flushing up as you stared at the screen of your phone thunderstruck.

“What did you say, mi–… Y/N?” Kokushibo said, an ounce of concern and awkwardness echoing in his words. At the sound of your name leaving his lips, you squealed out in joy and almost forgot that fact that he had just heard you swearing. It did not matter anymore because he had just made progress, censuring himself even!

“Ah, yes! You got it, then! – you beamed, leaning forward until your chin almost rested over his shoulder – We’re going to be best buddies!” you said, watching how his hold on the steering wheel grew tighter. The tips of his ears were now tinted in a vivid shade of red and you chuckled, before sinking back onto your seat and texted a reply to Muzan.

You: I’d love that, Mr. Kibutsuji.

It did not take a lot for him to reply and, when he did, your breath hitched in your throat and you shoved your phone back into your bag.

Muzan: In a few hours, you’re going to forget how to properly sit for a week.

It was definitely going to be an unforgettable first day at the Kibutsuji manor.

♚

You expected to share the bedroom with Muzan. He had not mentioned that you could pick a guest room and sleep in there, until you felt comfortable enough to lay down next to him. You were taken aback, naturally, but you were glad he wanted you to settle down without any pressure. He was not imposing his authority on you, his presence in your life was not suffocating you… Yet.

He seemed a gentleman, but you barely knew him. What if things degenerated? You refused to believe it and all you focused on was the present and, as for now, he was not troubling you in any way.

Once you were finally done unpacking, Kokushibo told you he would have taken his leave to run an errand for Muzan and you were free to do whatever you pleased in the meanwhile.

“Wait, can I come with you? I… Well, I don’t want to be alone” you said, rubbing the back of your neck as you shot the most pleading glance at the man you had enjoyed annoying all day long.

Kokushibo quirked an eyebrow up “You are not alone, actually. – he simply replied, straightening his jacket – Douma and Akaza are in the basement. I can accompany you there…” the man said, folding his arms against his chest. Only then, when he flexed his arms, you noticed how muscular he actually was.

He had large shoulders, a broad chest and, most likely, a chiseled set of abs down his stomach. Well, damn, did Muzan really have to choose hot men as his bodyguards? Ignoring your dirty, inappropriate thought, you vigorously nodded your head and followed him down the corridor, hoping that the other two assassins were not as good-looking as Kokushibo. Your hopes, though, crushed down, when, hopping down from the elevator, you were met with two piercing golden eyes and fascinating multicolored hues.

The taller one, silvery hair and a malicious grin plastered over his face was the first one who spoke “Ah, there she is! I knew she was the perfect candidate for this job. Such a pity I could not ask her out…” he complained, discarding his phone on the counter of the bar area and strolling towards you.

He was magnetic, his smile so bright and malicious that could have enlighten the whole city during a blackout.

“Back off, Douma. – the short guy, sipping a glass of what you assumed to be cognac, hissed from the stool he was sitting on – Touch her and I’ll shoot you” he stated, slamming the shot onto the counter carelessly.

You let out a nervous laughter and flashed a thin-lipped smile at them, before greeting the rest of Muzan’s army “Akaza and Douma, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N L/N” you introduced yourself, waving your hand at them sheepishly.

You wondered if Akaza really meant what he had said and your eyes betrayed your thoughts, making Douma sneer and grasp your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You could feel his breath fanning the tip of your nose, his slender frame towering over you as his half-lidded, mystical eyes scanned your face. He really did not know what personal space was, did he?

“Ah, look at you! Adorable, just adorable! Akaza loves to bully me, but he could never lay a finger on the second in command! Muzan-sama would kill him himself! – Douma chimed, tugging at your hand softly and leading you towards the bar – Now, now, let’s grab a glass of scotch and have a chit-chat, shall we?” he suggested, winking at you.

You had no idea of what to do and say. He seemed friendly, far way easier to talk to than Kokushibo, and, since they were going to be your protectors too, it was a good idea getting to know them better.

Before you could talk, Kokushibo’s deep voice pierced your ears and you both froze in your tracks “Take care of her. Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes” he stated, glancing at the two men menacingly, before nodding your head in your direction and hastily leaving the basement.

You watched him leave, your stomach clenching, as you realised that you would have been able to see Muzan in a while. You were not nervous about the dinner, but you had to admit that the idea of undressing in front of him and moaning into his mouth was doing numbers on you.

What if he changed his mind because you had almost zero experience?

You sighed and Douma snaked his arm around your waist, leading you to the stool next to Akaza’s one. As you sat down, you swallowed the lump in your throat and propped your elbows on the counter, eyes transfixed on the crystal bottle of liquor in front of you.

“Can I have a glass of whatever it is, please?” you whispered, earning a chuckle from Douma.

“Bad day?” Akaza asked you, reaching his hand out to grab a glass and the bottle you had been staring at almost lustfully.

You shrugged and flicked your gaze up to meet his golden eyes “Kind of… – you breathed out, as he slided the now filled glass towards you on the polished surface of the counter – I’m not used to be treated like a princess. Everything’s great, don’t get me wrong. I guess it’ll take some time for me to adapt” you said, grasping the glass and dawning a small sip of the alcoholic drink. It burned down your throat and you took a deep breath not to cough up at their faces.

Akaza grinned and cocked his head to the side, his pink eyelashes contrasting with the shimmering hues beneath them “You know, I thought you were a bitch. That’s because Douma found you and he usually has bad tastes in women” he said, making you choke on yiur drink.

What?

You settled the glass back on the counter, eyes daggers on Akaza as he just giggled at your reaction. What did he mean by ‘Douma found you’? You knew that someone had clearly spied on you, you just were startled to find out it was the jovial silver-haired man who had welcomed you in the basement.

“Yeah, he’s stalked you for months!” he added, running his ringed fingers through his spiky hair.

Your head whipped, eyes finally locking with Douma’s ones, demanding at least an apology for having invaded your privacy “How many photographs of me have you taken?” you asked him, quirking an eyebrow up.

He smiled brightly at you and shrugged “Uhm… Probably over twothousand. You know, Muzan-sama became obsessed with you when I showed him the first picture of you I had taken!” he casually declared, as if it was not the creepiest thing to say to someone.

Muzan became obsessed with you?

You shivered, biting the insides of your cheeks in discomfort. How many things did he know about you? Why was he so obsessed with you, a common civilian who was trying to graduate and pay for her studies by working night-shifts at a restaurant?

“Tell me you have not broken into my house, at least” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Silence. Did he?

You gasped and clasped a hand over your mouth in shock and Douma jabbed his finger at Akaza accusingly “Hey, I was not alone! He came with me countless times!” he protested, earning a scornful look from the pink-haired guy.

“Sure I did! I was afraid you were going to follow her into the bathroom, you perv!” Akaza yelled, slamming his fist onto the counter and leaning towards him, despite you being in his way.

“Okay, okay! Stop it you two!” you interjected, blocking Akaza’s view on the taller man.

“See? You made Y/N-chan upset!” Douma rebuked Akaza, folding his arms against his chest and giving him an annoyed side-eye.

Well, they were hilarious. You were glad that two out of the three bodyguards were not as stiff as Kokushibo. They were amusing, even, and they had made the revelation about how you ended up in Muzan’s house less scary than it was. A politician could not be an saint and Muzan was surely far from being one.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, a feminine voice echoed from the entrance of the basement and you three switched your attention on the brunette woman staring at you.

She was probably a little bit older than you. Long, chocolate brown hair and crimson-red lipstick exalting her pale skin, she wore a black tailleur, the skirt being way too short though, and revealing a black, leather suspender with a sharp knife in it. She seemed lathal and she was absolutely beautiful, although you could barely see her eyes.

“Master Muzan’s waiting for you, miss L/N” she coldly said and you clumsily hopped down from the stool to walk towards the elevator not to piss her off. She did not seem like the type you would have messed with, plus you had never seen her before.

“Ah, Nakime-dono… – Douma suavely addressed her – I wondered where were you”.

You passed by her and she bowed her head at you “Enjoy your meal, ma’am. Nobody will disturb you and the Master tonight” she said and you felt a wave of cold sweat running down your back. Were you ready for it?

♚

You were sitting across from him. His plum red eyes boring into yours, as he watched you bringing the spoon to your mouth and repress a moan of pleasure, when the delicious rice met your yearning taste buds.

You had been talking about everything. He seemed eager to know everything about you. Your studies, what you would have loved to do after your graduation, your hobbies, your family. He found you fascinating, adorable.

“It looks like I’ve chosen something you like, doesn’t it? – he commented, a faint smile adorning his lips as you blushed and shyly nodded your head – You can ask the chef to cook whatever you please for lunch tomorrow” he added, clearing his throat.

Seriously?

You smiled at him and settled the silver spoon onto the now empty plate “Thank you so much, Muzan. I will try to pick something you can enjoy too!” you said softly.

He did not reply, he just stood up, consuming the five strides dividing you two in a nick of time and swiftly grasping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. It was time for him to claim you, was it not? Your cheeks seemed to burn under his intense gaze and firm touch and you mouth went suddenly dry.

“Come with me, baby” he whispered, after a few seconds. His hand left your chin, his fingertips grazing down the tender flesh of your neck, travelling down its length and stopping right above your cleavage.

You nodded your head and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you up and closer to him. He leaned down, until his nose brushed against yours and you batted your eyes close in anticipation. You felt butterflies fluttering into your stomach and, by the time he swept you off of your feet and cradled you in his arms, you knew he had already won your heart.

You clung to him, feet dangling in the air as he led you to his majestic bedroom. He banged the door open, entering in and not caring about closing it behind you. When he dropped ruthlessly onto the bed, your eyes snapped open and you saw the lustful gaze he had trailed on you. The tent in his pants was prominent and you pushed yourself up on your elbows, biting on your lower lip nervously.

He smirked down at you unbuckling the belt with one hand “Take your clothes off. Now” he demanded, throwing it away and unzipping his pants.

“Yes, sir” you murmured, proceeding in kneeling on the bed to pull the simple pink dress you were wearing above your head. You felt his gaze on you, you felt it soaking in every curve of your body, searching for the proof that you were as excited as him. And he found it.

Your white virginal panties had an evident dump he did not fail to notice. You stared up at him and he pulled his shaft out of the tight fabric of his black boxers, giving it a few pumps. It was huge, it would have hurt like Hell and you gulped nervously as you hesitantly pulled your panties down your thighs, exposing your untouched flower at his vicious eyes.

“Fuck” he grunted, crawling over the bed and grasping you by your hips. You squirmed as he pushed you down onto the mattress, his fingers snatching the panties away from your ankles and discarding them somewhere behind him.

“S-Sir, please… Be gentle, I’m a virgin” you blurted out, earning a dumbfounded glance from the raven-haired man.

He could not believe his eyes. You, the young and lovely girl he was about to mark as his property was actually a virgin. He chuckled, parting your legs and grazing your chaste entrance with his pointer finger. You shuddered under his touch, your juices coating the pad of his digit as he slowly shoved it inside you.

You yelped, his other hand pushing your hips down to keep you in place “Your admission just made me feral. Are you under birth-control?” he huskily asked you, pumping the finger in and out of soaked, tight cunt.

You whined and nodded your head at him “Y-yes… Yes, I am, Master” you winced, as he deliberately decided to add another finger into you. He was loving every second of it, your moans music to his ears. He had even declined Nakime’s avances earlier. Something he was not used to, actually, and he had not even called Daki for the usual morning quickie in his office. Nothing, all because he wanted to focus on you. Only on you.

“Good. That’s good, love, because I’ll cum into you” he rasped, removing his fingers from your core and lining his shaft at your entrance. You held your breath, cheeks heating up even more at his words, as you boldly wrapped your legs around him.

He was still fully clothed and you were so lost into the depths of your mind that you had not realised it until now. Why was he fucking you like that? Was it his kink?

And with a quick, painful thrust he entered you. You let out a throaty moan, the pain, mixed with an unfamiliar pressure into your neather regions made your arch your back and grip the red bedsheets into your fists so tightly you thought they were going to rip into shreds.

Muzan grunted, his hand caressing your cheek lovingly to capture the tear you had shedded, before planting a kiss over your plumped lips. You relaxed, he stayed still for a few minutes, before he pulled out and thrusted back in gently. You moaned into his mouth, your hand, cupping his smooth cheek as you whispered a weak “Please, don’t stop” against his lips.

Muzan bit your lip softly, tugging at it to assert his authority on you “Hush, baby. Moan for me until I fill you up to the brim”.

You kissed him again, Muzan returning it as he started to pick up a faster pace. He thrusted into you, his mouth latching onto your collabone as he left a trail of wet kisses down it. You were his. You were going to fall for him, no matter how long it would have taken.

You were his doll, his precious baby, his goddess.

“A–Ah, Muzan… I-I think I’m close… It’s good, it’s so good” you breathed out then, as his hand grasped your throat and gave it a tight squeeze. You moaned, eyes rolling at the back of your skull, as your spongy walls clamped down his cock.

He growled, his hips rutting into you as he neared his climax and, just a few moments before he spurted his seed into you, you orgasmed around him. Muzan lowly moaned, burying his face onto the crook of your sweaty neck as he finished inside you. He stayed sheathed into you for a few minutes, before pulling out of your aching core and rolling over his back.

You could not believe what had just happened. You could not believe you had just slept with the next President, you could not believe he had come into you.

“You can sleep here, if you want” he casually said then, snapping you out of your stream of consciousness. He was not laying next to you anymore, he was on his feet and walking towards the private bathroom of his bedroom, undressing and leaving a trail of clothes behind him.

Well, what a first day it had been.

[malarign]

love you unconditionally

(ways to win their heart)

contains: bf!hyungline x fem!reader | genre: fluff | tw! crying and honking at elders in Jay’s one (sorry i had to put it here, i have a very soft spot for old people 😔), mentions of food in all of them | wc: 2,4k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: this is way longer than I intended it to be 🙈 also writing this when we’re in the same country is a new feeling for me 😬

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

➶ Cooking for him *ೃ༄

Having such fast-paced work life as Heeseung had is not for the weak. And he certainly was not a weak person, but like everybody he had boundaries. At times when they had been crossed he needed to be taken care of with an extra dose of love and tenderness.

Hearing a loud sigh you looked at your boyfriend, who plopped on the couch next to you. His hair was still wet, body still hot from the warmth of shower water. He placed his head on your thigh and you put away your book to look at him.

“Tired?” you simply asked to which he languidly nodded with his eyes closed. Heeseung warned you that this week is going to be a nightmare and he was right. Every day he came back home sapless from hard work. This made you worry and think about what you could do to help him feel better and stay in shape.

“Hungry?” you asked once again, and he answered the same way as before, with a pout visible on his lips.

You rubbed his shoulders and patted them gently signaling him to raise his head. He reluctantly did and threw a frown at you. You smiled and made an offer that he would never say no to. “Let me make you some ramen. Just the way you like.”

Your words made his stomach grumble. He watched you go to the kitchen, and make his absolute favorite dish. After all those years of knowing him, you developed the perfect recipe made of spices combinations and ingredients proportions. Every time you made it Heeseung could swear he would marry you right away.

After all, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

➶ Showing interest in his hobbies *ೃ༄

Heeseung being a man of many talents, naturally is interested in many things in various fields. Basketball, football, games, piano, dancing, and many more were one of the things he adored. And the fact that you showed such interest in those things made him feel important to you as if by knowing more about his hobbies you knew more about him. Even if his interests were completely not your cup of tea you left no stone unturned to know as much as you managed to about them. Whether it was basketball or football where you could learn rules to watch matches with him or ask him to teach you to play some piano piece or choreography

“And then at the last minute, he cheated, as always though” Heeseung spoke about his last match with Niki in their new favorite game.

“Didn’t he do that last time, too? But you still won, right?” you asked eyebrow raising in question. He didn’t even have to answer as his cockily raised eyebrow told you everything.

“Of course I did.” His smile was so big you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can we play it? I want to see why you like it so much” you asked pointing to the controllers. You observed how his eyes grew bigger, sparkles brightening his dark orbs. He knew damn well video games weren’t really your cup of tea, yet you offered to play with him. Heeseung decided to not question you and just nodded reaching to the pair of controllers and handing you one of them.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t cheat too, though.”

Park Jongseong | 박종성

➶ Being polite to others *ೃ༄

Good manners was something Jay’s parents tought him from his childhood days. He knew what was the responsible thing to doin relevant situations, knew how to treat other’s and how to help them when they asked for it. He never hesitated to reach out his hand to a person in need of help.

Because of that upbringing he somehow expected his partner to be as considerate and amiable as he was. That’s probably the reason why he loved you so much. Your kind actions and warm gestures made his heart beat only for you.

But just like every human being you had your bad days when you couldn’t keep it cool. By contrast to your kindness your short-tempered character made you loose control for a second.

Jay was cooking a dinner for both of you knowing you’ll be home at any minute now. he heard how you unlocked the front door but the sound of the door slamming shut took him by surprise. Sensing something was wrong he took careful steps to the hallway where he saw you sitting on the floor, your back facing him. He went around you and the sight made his expression drop. Your face was tear stained and eyes puffy, meaning you had been crying for a while now. He crouched next to you to take your form closer to his and asked softly: “Do you want to tell me what happened?”, but that only made you cry harder. Not wanting your eyes to hurt the next day he helped you calm down, waiting for some kind of response from you.

“I feel like I’m the worst person,” you whispered, another tears forming in your eyes.

“Why would you say that, sweetheart? You’re the kindest person I know.” The absurd of what you had said made him confused.

“Becaused when I honked at this car that was in front of me, that didn’t drive even though we had green light, it turned out that there was an old man behind a wheel,” you spoke syntax and sense of your statement long gone. “And when I overtook him he apologized by raising his hand. Jay that man could be like 90 years old and I treated him like that. I feel horrible,” you cried again finding comfort in his arms.

Jay couldn’t help but smile at your innocence. He held you for as much time as you needed reminding you about all the things you do and convincing you that you’re certainly not a bad person.

➶ Having heart-to-heart conversations *ೃ༄

Working in Seoul was tiring most of the times, draining from both physical and mental energy. Living fast was not for everybody, even people who do know how to cope with the hardships of this lifestyle needed to pour their hearts out once in a while, sharing their worries and nuisances to feel lighter in some way.

Both you and Jay knew about that, so every month you had a long heart-to-heart conversation that made your hearts at ease. You talked about many things, sometimes feelings and everyday matters too overwhelming to talk about them straight away. Instead you just asked each other questions you didn’t have an oppourtunity to ask.

“What do you wish you could spend more time doing?” you asked, breaking the long but comfortable silence that surrounded you. You shifted and layed on him, head now raising and falling down just as his chest did when he took a breath.

“I wish I could cook a little bit more. I mean like not cooking every day meals, but experimenting with other quisines and types of food,” he spoke after thinking for a while.

“Do you know what cuisine?” you asked quriously.

He looked at you and exclaimed with a smile: “Maybe some dish from [your country name]? That would benefit both of us. I would spend more time in the kitchen and you could eat meals from your childhood.”

“Ooh, not gonna lie, that sounds tempting!” You hugged him tighter with excitement.

“What about you, sweetheart?”

“Probably painting. I still have blank canvas but not the energy to even think about what to capture on it,” you said while an idea crept into your mind.

“You could always paint me,” Jay remarked.

“I thought about exact same thing.”

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

➶ Cuddling with him *ೃ༄

Jake is probably the clingiest person of them, who all would love and long for any form of physical contact with you. He adored holding your hands in his, occasionally rubbing them with this thumb. He loved the scent of your shampoo and body wash so every time you finished your nighttime routine he ran to you to just smell your freshly washed hair. And on top of that, his favorite thing ever was how your body felt against his whenever you hugged or cuddled. This is probably why he enjoyed it whenever it was you who cuddled him, not him cuddling you.

Jake came back home from his stroll to the grocery store for some snacks. Both of you were supposed to watch the new episode of a show you just started when you realized you ran out of snacks, so he quickly went out to buy something to fill your stomachs up.

“Baby I’m back!” he shouted while taking off his shoes.

“Come here quickly!” He heard your response and jogged to the living room. You were laying on the couch in a reclined position. When you noticed his presence in the room, a smile rose on your lips and you opened your arms inviting the boy into your loving embrace. Jake didn’t waste any second jumping onto you making both of you giggle. He placed his head on your chest and closed his eyes when he felt your fingers tangle in his locks. And if not for your pat on his shoulder he would completely forget about the promised episode and just find solace and comfort in your affection.

➶ Spending time with him when you're busy *ೃ༄

Handling uni work with your part-time job was probably the hardest aspect of your life. Jake knew your hardships and if there was something he could help you with he did it with pleasure. Seeing your struggles truly breaks your heart so he does everything in his power to somehow let you know he’ll always be there for you. With that awareness, he cherished with his whole heart any moment you spared him.

Currently, you were laying down on your bed, bodies cuddled up together. You played with his fingers as he was telling you about your day. Listening to him attentively you started feeling your eyelids closing involuntarily. You fought the tiredness with all your will, but the exhaustion from the past week full of work and assignments drained you of any energy.

Jake noticed how you struggled to keep your eyes open so he cupped your face in his free hand and said: “Babe, you must be really tired. Let me help you get changed and make the bed for you to sleep comfortably.”

You looked up at him and your eyes softened. “But I wanna listen to your day more. I missed you so much and we barely even saw each other this week” you spoke.

“It’s okay, my love, I know you do so as soon as we wake up tomorrow I’ll finish my story. How does that sound?” he asked and left a short kiss on your forehead.

Seeing your nod Jake helped you get ready to sleep and made the bed for the two of you to hop into. He engulfed you in his arms and whispered tender “I love you”s and other sweet nothings into your ear. His touch made you melt in bliss, helping you fall asleep. Once he noticed your sleeping form he took a look at your face, treasuring the memory of time spent with you for a long time.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

➶ Writing him notes/love letters *ೃ༄

As a silent lover, who shows his feelings rather through gestures Sunghoon appreciates when you did the same to him. Of course, he loved when you gave him hugs or peppered his face with heart-fluttering kisses, but seeing your love through kind messages on the mirror written with a bar of soap or small sticky notes attached to his lunch box made his whole day better, and nothing could make it worse.

Sunghoon finally went on his long-awaited break from work and closed all the opened programs on his office computer. He took a bag full of food you made for him for lunch and went to the kitchen to eat it comfortably. He took out a small box from the bag to heat the meal when he noticed a pink sticky note with a message written on it. “Have a great day, my love. Don’t overwork yourself and come back home safely ♡“ he read the message silently, not noticing a smile creeping on his face. He put it into his pocket and continued preparing the food.

After he finished eating he took a note into his hand and put it into a drawer of his desk where he stored every single one of them you wrote through the years of your relationship. He kept them knowing that there were days when you simply didn’t have much time to write him a note. Those days he just opened the drawer and drew one note which never failed to make his day.

And it always made him think about you. How is your day? Are you busy? What if you’re overworking yourself? Those questions pierced his mind, so instead of just worrying he texted you, hoping he wouldn’t disturb your work day. But he never did. You always responded as soon as you noticed his messages, which made you feel warm and loved.

➶ Giving him long hugs after a long day

For Sunghoon, a synonym of comfort and delight was simply being in your arms, a place where he felt the safest. He knew you’re the person with whom he can be who he truly is and didn’t need to put the brakes on himself. After stresfull days in work he dreamed of nothing else but to nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck while you brush his hair with your fingers. 

And that’s exactly what happened. As soon as he came back he searched for you to finally feel at home. You gladly welcomed him wrapping your arms around him, softly scratching his back earning full of satifaction low hums from him in return. 

“Let me massage your shoulders,” you offered suddenly when you felt how rock hard were his tensed muscles. 

“No, I want to stay here,” he said as he made himself more comfortable, making both of you lay down on your shared bed. 

You patted his head brushing his hair from off his face. “Anything for you, love.” You continued touching him gently when you heard soft snores coming from him. You shook him a bit to wake him up. You knew how he hated sleeping without showering first, in clothes he wore whole day. 

Sunghoon opened his eyes lazily and nodded before rubbing them with his hands. He lifted from you and went straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower, while you made your med ready to lay down on it. When he came back you embraced him once again. He laid his head drowsily on your shoulder and sighed. You climbed on your toes to give him short peck on his lips and led him to lay down after day full of work. 

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

[bowieandqueen11]

Take Us Back / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: ahh hope i didn’t miss the izzy request deadline!! honestly just a really fluffy one about what the reader and izzy might do on a day off on land would be super cute , could be either established relationship or the confessions could ensue during! whatever you think would work best, love ur writing sm 💘

Ahh I love this idea so much!! You know me I always love a good love confession. although this one is a little more subtle than I meant it to be!! Thank you so much :) Although this managed to turn more into hurt/comfort, so sorry about that!!

I'm sorry if this sucks ass, writer's block has been kicking my ass and I'm trying to write through it!

Warning: mentions of blood, mentions of child abuse, some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @tinylilvalery.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands had been seven years old the last time he had sat in the foot of a river's mouth.

Life had felt different then: harsher, colder. Even the sunlight had felt a pale wanton impression of the basking heat the crew lay under now, leaving nothing but pocked scars across his soul and a rigid fear woven through his lancinating ribcage.

But that day- god, that day. It had been one of the rare instances that his mother had been lucid, if not tolerant of the mere sight of him. She had just received news from his brother, informing her that he'd finally managed to wrangle his way into one of the crews dotted around the local docks. He still remembered pattering into their cramped kitchen that morning: remembered crawling into her lap, afraid that the shock slumping her usually sapless face as she leant her elbow wearily on the tablecloth was due to his tardiness, not registering in his tired state the opened letter his mother was clutching in her left hand. He had shut his eyes, expecting the usual sting of reproach to come burning across his backside, but instead he was met with shallow laughter and the feel of his mother's frigid hands wrapping around his spine.

She had carried him the whole way down to the bay, had spent the whole rest of that strange, surreal morning in a trancelike contentment. Instead of going to their usual morning prayers, his mother had taken his hands and had danced with him: her feet splashing across the slivering waves as they bit and hissed and fell in aglow bubbles around her feet. Instead of being sent down to the docks to haggle for some small scrap of leftover meat for him to come back and boil for their dinner, his mother had cupped his cheeks as if, for one glorious, unprecedented moment in his life, the hopeful smile timidly warming his cheeks was the most important thing in the world.

The thing Izzy remembers most, though, was the magical way his mother had sung. How the sound made his knees grow weak, tears collecting in the crinkles of his eyes as she sang a strange song about finding beauty in the mundane: of rosiness the shade of his cheeks, of the end of grief, of embracing the beautiful imperfection of our mistakes.

He was almost inclined to believe her. But even at that age, he knew reality was far crueller than her. Because even though she was still humming into the shallow depths, she had refused to even once meet his desperate eyes.

He knew the song wasn't for him. He knew, as he glanced down at the lonesome creek that he suddenly realised was bitingly cold against his waggling toes, that his life was resigned to one of subordination. How she had walked him into the water until their ankles were coated in a fine line of salt, clutching his hand to her heart as the invocation began to wear off. That this grandness, this gloriousness, was to be found inside the soul of others. As his mother began to lug at him again, drawing him further and further into the benighted depths he suddenly didn't want to wade into: was suddenly afraid to approach, he finally understood the truth of his life.

He knew he was just there as collateral to her joy. And as he began to cry out in fear, feeling that all too familiar burn against the ruddiness of his cheek, he realized that hope was created to dwell within other people.

'See child, I told you. Change comes with the tide. Fortune comes to those of us who are deserving of it', she took a deep breath and darted her eyes down to him in antipathy, before digging her spindly fingers into his wrist until they drew blood. She didn't even blink as she used her free hand to pull the letter out of her pocket, kissing its inked lines and clutching the crumpled parchment to her chest. The dying light of the day seemed only to coat her in cerement as she sobbed silently, Izzy too afraid to move in case the sallow light entombed him as well.

He hadn't allowed himself to feel the sunlight since. Instead, he shrouded himself in Stygian shadows, stifling himself under their abhorrence: he had tried to cage his heart to keep it safe. Little did he know, that instead he had created a shroud, and left the shredded remains of what was left to shrivel in the darkness.

You. You! You, god, oh you. Coming swanning into his life with the rest of Stede Bonnet's infuriating little toy miniatures, cresting with graceful consideration along the sinews he had long locked away, with a determinant hankering for his heart. Every look his way just to try and catch his wandering eye: every shit-faced smile in defiance of his crude orders and the callous bite of his words was exhuming an anguishing pain within his chest.

Which is why he found you so fucking obnoxious. Insubordinate. Just as obdurate as him. You seemed to make it your life's mission to get the tomb holding him captive to crack open.

And by god, if it wasn't about to.

He was almost embarrassed by how quickly he had agreed to join you on the shore during the crew's solitary day off that month: his head had nodded as if a screw had come loose in his neck, and although he had to punch Lucius in the stomach for guffawing at how absurd he looked from where he was pretending to mop by Stede's cabin doors, it was worth it to be able to spend some blessed time alone with you.

Which is how he found himself perched on the shallow end of a crag: the sand sifting off his boots and the midday sun burning a white-hot hole into the top of his head that even the nearby leaves of the shimmering banana tree couldn't defend him from. He kicks lazily at the water, scaring away a few darting fish as you finally give up your wrestling match with Jim and come to sit criss-crossed next to the rather forlorn looking man. He does his best to raise his frown once he feels your fingers poke at his stiff shoulder, but even you're able to see the way the smile barely makes it past the top of his stubble, let alone his crestfallen eyes.

'So...', you start with a twist of your lips, an idea suddenly popping into your head as you catch sight of a few lengths of haggard bark popping out of the mud. 'You ever fish when you were younger?' You pull some of the twine out of your makeshift rope belt, looping a knot around the cleanest ends and handing one of the makeshift poles to the first mate.

'Fish? Did I ever... fish?', Izzy asks incredulously, tilting his head at you as if in disbelief. He had fished before: in fact, he was actually rather good at it. When his mother's health began to fail and the poor relief filtering into their household in drips and drabs began to be unable to keep dire poverty from banging at their door, Izzy had taken to smuggling onto the back of boats and fishing out of barrels to get food.

'No. No', he lies. 'I'm not a fucking fisherman, I'm a fucking pirate-'. He didn't know why the memory was making him so irritated. Maybe it wasn't the recollection at all, he thought in a stricken horror, but the way you turned your full attention to him. That- that swinging gaze, that coy smile lifting your cheeks as you try your best to read every microcosm that flashes across his panicking face. That- that kindness in the furrow of your eyebrows, that forbearance as you gently took his shaking first and unfurled it, placing the fishing rod in his palm.

Your fingertips tenderly swirl against the seamed linen of his wrist before you let go. Izzy blinks unsurely, something akin to trepidation making his breath choke in his nostrils, making them flare uneasily.

'I know you're going to be a natural', is all you whisper, sensing his alarm and placing the man's hand back onto his knee with great care. With a final nod, you turn your head back to the sea line.

Fuck. Fuck. How could you read him so easily? How could he, a man so ruthless in his faux arrogance, be laid so bare before you, when he had spent so many years devotedly poisoning that part of himself? He was about to fucking burst, and if you even fucking dared to place your warm fingers against his bare skin him one more time, he was going to draw his scabbard loose and lacerate his billowing heart himself.

The feel of you sitting next to him, holding your own fishing pole between relaxed fingers was almost enough to make the sound of Frenchie hollering in the distance bearable: the man trying to do half-crab like 'somersaults' across the sand. Izzy sighs, pretending the screaming cackle of Roach as he chased the Swede with one of his juggling pins was just the faraway caw of some mythical seabird. Even though the sound of your cheerful hums were sending spears of a long buried fear deep into his stomach, he was content to let the memories of his mother wash over him, to be instead overlapped with his rapt ruminations of you.

'Am I... am I doing this alright?', he asks, daring to break the silence, although his hoarse voice barely seems to penetrate the gleaming air at all. Thankfully, you have your ears finely tuned to hear both his scolding remarks and tender confessions, and so your reply is both astute and quickly timed as you whip your head to take an enthusiastic look at his pole.

You dart a finger out before he even has time to prepare for your approach, drawing his thumb further up the stick. 'That's it... that's it! See, I knew you'd be a natural at this!' It takes all of Izzy's self-control not to whip out his wrist, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to instead try and alleviate the way his cells seemed to catch alight every time your skin brushed against his.

'Although', you start, poking your pointer finger against your chin and looking at him in contemplation. 'Your angle is a little wrong. Do you know how to fix it?', you ask, not wanting to offend him and have him scuttling off like a snow crab when you had put so much effort into getting him to trust in your company.

'I- I don't know', he lies, already moving his torso so you would have easier access to wrap yourself around his tensing shoulder blades send ripples spreading across the back of his vest.

'Here-', you reach an arm out, palm spreading against the rigid meat of his lower back as you turn the man to face you more directly. He jolts, and for a second you're worried that you've accidentally brushed against an old injury, but then the man unconsciously mewls, his thighs bucking forward against the sand grains.

'Like this', he asks breathlessly, knowing damn well that his posture was absolutely perfect.

'Like that', you reply with a smile as sweet and meek as the champagne bubbles lapping hungrily at his feet. It was almost enough to blow away the cankered cobwebs encasing his heart: almost enough to flood the chambers of his heart with a child-like resurrection, if he only wasn't stubborn enough to keep the latches of his heart's coffin lid closed.

'I'll tell you something, you're far better company than Ed', you say to alleviate the tension, feeling sorry at the way the man seems to be cursing himself with thick, inaudible swears. You let your fingers dart across the last few vertebrae's of his spine, enjoying the way his whole body seems to convulse like an electrified eel once you let go. 'The last time I tried to teach him to fish, I swear I was two seconds away from kicking him overboard. That man genuinely does not know how to stay quiet for two seconds.'

He grabs onto your wrist, so desperate to retain every ounce of your attention. So desperate to feel you set him aflame, without the embarrassment of having to ask. For the first time that day, he stares deeply into your eyes, his thick eyelashes flickering back and forth as if searching for something.

'You don't have to tell me. I very unhappily managed to overhear him talking to himself this morning about all the ways Captain had used his fingers last night-'

You clasp your hands to your ears, a high pitched giggle pealing out of the back of your throat. 'Oh god, please! Just stop! Whatever the hell our dads do, I don't want to know!'

God, you were bewitching.

'What about your father', you ask suddenly, raising a curious eyebrow at the man. 'I know that you, Israel Hands, must have had a phenomenal upbringing to turn out the way you did.'

'I can't fucking tell if you're being sarcastic or not', he replies curtly, but the edges of his lips are curling up despite of himself.

'Come on', you prod at his side with the jut of your fishing pole. 'I have to be completely honest, I've been dying to know your story ever since you got on the revenge. Until today, Mr. 'I'm god as far as you're concerned', you've been a bit of an enigma to me.'

He looks at you sharply, his lips lingering upwards and making the warm glow that followed through into his eyes paint him as an angel against the goldenrod hues of the sun’s rising throne. 

'Until today?'

You can't help but match his bashful smile.

'Something tells me you've fished before', you reply smartly, nodding your head down to his tugging line.

It seemed to come to him then, that hope he had long forgotten: reverberating through his already troubled mind like a deafening echo, screaming and writhing and cacophonous as it pierced every fragment of his brain it could, begging him to remember the days when love had been true. Pleading with him to allow veracity to forburn the self-inflicted death he had allowed to coat his now pounding heart.

His mouth twists, unsure as where to start. It had been so long... so long since he had been truthful with anyone, let alone with himself. He swallows thickly, eyes roaming over the scuffs of his boot that are sliding further and further into the chilled depths of the shallow water, before he curls his fingers into a fist and goads himself into being compliant.

'I used to... I mean, I used to go down to the river with my mother, when she could be bothered. Which wasn't very often.'

He prays that you won't notice the faraway look in his eyes. How they begin to cloud over with unshed tears for a life he should have known. Should have had. For innocence robbed, and exasperation capitulated into its place. How his hands were now beginning to jolt so harshly, he nearly sent his fishing role flying into the ocean with one particularly intense heave.

'My mother always used to tell me, that you could begin your life again if you could pinpoint the exact spot where the rivers began to merge with the sea', he seethes out through gritted teeth, a low whistle sliding over his tongue as you reach your hand out and offer him the only form of solace you can think to give. 'She used to say that this is the spot where Calypso fell after Odysseus left her. That if you sing to her, her face will appear within the waves and grant you immortality.'

'Did you believe her?'

'I didn't before.'

'Hmm, what made you change your mind?' You entangle your fingers messily with his gloved hand, allowing both your poles to clamber noisily into the rugged pit chipped out by the toes of your feet. You knew if you broke the spell, interrupted this moment, it might never come again for him.

‘It was you, for fuck's sake!’, he wanted to shout. It was the truest thing he had ever known, plain and so soul crushingly simple.

Instead he flops his head back, and looks dead-set into the blinding light of the sun. 'I heard you singing. Heard you with Frenchie earlier, when you were singing shanties on the deck. My mother also used to sing to me', he warbles, voice hoarse.

The swallow tattoo scored onto his neck seems to thrum to life with each pulse of his juddering arteries.

'Ah-', you frown, 'I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up all these... memories for you. That's why you've been brooding so much today.'

His head darts to the side to scrutinize you, but when you mumble another sweet apology he finally stops scowling. If you hadn't been so lovestruck yourself, you might have found the courage to tear your head away from the horizon in that moment to meet the look of gut-wrenching devotion that brightened the man's widening eyes, a vestige kind of hope widening the gloam of his pupils.

He tilts his head to the side: towards you, eyes dipping down to almost imperceptibly gaze over your pursed lips.

'Don't be sorry'. His bottom lip trembles as he heaves a breath and squeezes your hand tight against his own. He felt like he was falling onto the cusp of something dangerous, but he refuses to allow his obduracy to suffocate the words.

'You sounded...', he grits his teeth, trying to bury his words by seething them into his skin instead. You watch him shove his chin into the side of his shoulder with humoured curiosity, giving him the time, the space, the security to finish his thought. He buries his eyes into the water, watching the rippling reflection of his face wallow into the shoreline. 'You sounded beautiful. It was nice to hear music again. I haven't in so long.'

'Well, Israel Hands', he trembles at the feel of your warm breath brushing against the tip of his ear. 'Good thing I'm immortal now.'

He smiles at that.

'Looks like I have all the time in the world to sing for you, if you'd like.'

For the first time since he was seven years old, Izzy Hands felt like he was allowed to live again.

'I'd- I'd like that very much.'

[1800titz]

NEW SMUTTY BLURB UP ON PATREON — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

CW: CONSENSUAL!!! somnophilia, p in v

It’s the prettiest thing of all, when he clambers up and props his leaky cockhead against her, stuffing in and sinking— the little halo the ends of her hair mold over the pillow, bordering her scalp as she twists. 

He wants to wrangle her by the column of her throat, press in on either side with the pads of his thumb and forefinger so that she blinks awake to speckling phosphenes at the edges of the dusk in their bedroom. Wants to press his fingers to her tongue. Nirvana in a tidal surge that sweeps her under as soon she bobs to the surface, gasping raggedly as he rocks in, tip to root—

He pastes his temple to her calf instead, forearm wrapped over her kneecaps with a stuttery exhale. It makes his ribs rattle— when she milks around his base. This saccharine thing (he draws a finger over the crease between her eyebrows, an initial, tangible spark hewing at her features from the way he spears her apart). 

He wants to flip her when she rouses with that watery sheen seeping at her eyes, leaking from the corners in rivulets down the crests of her cheekbones, like she always does. Have her gnaw into the pillow as he pumps in, prodding deep, again and again—

Harry rocks in nudges, grinding her bones into the mattress, then pummels in smooth thrusts that drive from his mushroomed head to the base and back. A piston that hones, tunnel vision that narrows, the filthy squelch of her wet heat splitting around him. Resolve crumbling, little noises seeping from the back of her throat, and then—

He’s threadbare. Unspooling. Sweating when her nose crinkles up, her pout falling apart when she blinks, and blinks, and blinks. A high mewl (bliss, the effects) and hands wandering off the sheets, sapless. Insipid with sleep. Trying to grapple. 

He wonders if she’s recognized that he’s got her legs over one shoulder, his laurels sticky and wet to her ass every time he delves. If it’s all still a smoggy murk, trapezing on the webbing of a fragile daydream.

One that’s tearing her apart. 

In the shadows, her neck cranes. A perfect spot to collar with his hand. 

He doesn’t, tipping his head over, holding on harder, hammering fervorously, cooing, in a dry gravel dusted with the remnants of sleep, “S’that deep, baby?” 

And then, “Fuck, you’re so wet. S’fucking—“

A rumbly groan from his chest, loud like the thunderclap following streaks of white outside, highlighting the shape of her head cocked, face pinched, coiling as he burrows in. 

“Fuckin’ slip out if you weren’t squeezing me so snug, pet, I swear— shit—“

[thierry-facon]

back to busan

« The favourites of Heaven were accustomed to cure inveterate diseases with a touch, a word, or a distant message; and to expel the most obstinate dæmons from the souls, or bodies, which they possessed. They familiarly accosted, or imperiously commanded, the lions and serpents of the desert; infused vegetation into a sapless trunk; suspended iron on the surface of the water; passed the Nile on the back of a crocodile, and refreshed themselves in a fiery furnace. These extravagant tales, which display the fiction, without the genius, of poetry, have seriously affected the reason, the faith, and the morals, of the Christians. Their credulity debased and vitiated the faculties of the mind: they corrupted the evidence of history; and superstition gradually extinguished the hostile light of philosophy and science. » 

( Edward Gibbon, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire )

[kissproof]

hi!! can you write something with fluff prompt 23 with dwayne from tlb? :)

𝘥𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 <33333 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵!!

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱, 𝘥𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵

𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘕𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚: 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 / 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

you woke up in the nest nuzzled in dwayne’s leather and dry-mouthed from sleep. brain fog had overtaken you as soon as you could even attempt to come to your senses, and that was a weakness you’d eventually learn to respect being so close to such animals.

dwayne’s largeness stalked in the distance, shoulder blades flexing and tightening as he walked around with only his jeans still on, black hair cascading so thickly down. it was dark inside, only a small fire lighting the cave, but not dark enough to scare you further. besides, you were a willing captive.

his face sharpened first as he moved closer, leaning his body into the nest via his big, violent hands, soft crackling tickling at your still vulnerable ears.

he caresses your cheekbone and downward, hardened skin against your face. involuntarily, you flutter your eyes closed and hum, though it sounds like nothing at all.

you were still weak. just how he liked you.

“you fainted, are you alright?”

you saw something you shouldn’t have. dwayne, all of them, suckling veins and ripping leftover human meat from the bone in a darkened spot along the beach. blood splattered all over, the stench of it was enough to make your eyes sting, suffocate your throat, shove you off your feet. someone, most likely david, looked back and locked your head in a spell, eyes and face suddenly so obstructed by evil.

before you knew it there’d been a thud. your body had seized, your head hit the dirt.

it was something you’d known to be true, these killings. you just hadn’t happened upon it before. it wasn’t their fault that you got frightened.

there was no answer you could give dwayne, just your eyes. you were alive, that was the most obvious indication of your fineness, you thought.

you blinked a couple of times, still too sapless to give any verbal answer, and eventually dwayne just smiled and huffed away, leaving you again to your comfortable loneliness.

[nelapanela94]

TW: Smuttish ending, no proofread.

Levi and Reader basking at the beach ;')

The hem of your dress turned a darker shade of pink at its contact with the water, wicking up to your knees as your wade to the shore. It will definitely leave an ugly sand stain when it dries later. The sand clings at your feet no matter how vehemently you try to scrape it off.

The sun yawns sluggishly in the horizon, snuggling under an eiderdown of hues of orange, purple and yellow to soon give way to the moon. The fizzy sea laps against the sand, suffusing it with a lace of ebbing froth. A shirtless Levi is sitting on a towel, legs tucked up, watching, with a lopsided smile plastered on his face, at the most beautiful eyes approaching. His skin sheens, his hair clings to the sweat on his forehead.

“We have windows for our castle.” You bubble before dropping to your knees in front of the rising fortress you’d spent the afternoon building. Four walls joined by sapless towers form a square that protects the central palace, a sandy pile that resembles a reeling two-story cake with melted frosting. What if it's not perfect? It was the work of both. From your hand drip a handful of little shells, of different shapes and colors, and Levi only stares as you embed them in the towers and the main building. Your fingers tremble, and the tip of your tongue sticks out in concentration trying to calculate the force needed to keep the windows in place, but not to knock down the structure. And for the final touch, the prettiest shell sinks on the top.

One of the things Levi loves about you is that in everything you do, you always sprinkle your magic. And for that smile, he'll fight tooth and nail against anyone who dares to harm you.

“It’s perfect.” Those moonstones flick from the castle to you. “Come here.” He curls his fingers to himself, beckoning you. “But shake off the sand first.”

You heave a sigh and turn your eyes white as you stand up, patting the bottom of your dress and wiping off your shins before bridging the ten-feet gap that separates you from him. Wedging between his legs, you make yourself a nest, your knees burrowing into the sand over the towel.

“You know the best thing about spending all day at the beach?” You lean in for a kiss and reel back, weaving your arms behind his head. “To have you shirtless.” You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, his tan brawny arms lock around you. “All for myself.”

“You’re objectifying me?” Levi’s chuckle fades in your unruly hair, his sinewy fingers playing the ivory keys of your back.

“It’s not my fault you’re so fucking good.” You mumble in his ear, one of your hands slip over the brambly undercut while the other ambles the rippling muscles of his upper back. You pull away, taking his face in your hands, and squeezing his downy cheeks.

Pink creeps across his face, chiefly on the bridge of his nose, matching the tone of his sun-kissed shoulders. “You have freckles.” You kiss him on the corner of his mouth and peel off by a fraction, your thumbs stroking his cheeks with a feather like touch. “and I like you tanned.”

“Tanned? You mean this farm boy sunburn?”

Giggles spool out from you. A lock of your hair twirls around his forefinger, while his other hand drifts down surreptitiously to the small of your back, his fingers tapping over danger zone.

Blushing and nipping your bottom lip, you look around, before turning your gaze to him. It’s only you and him and the whisper of the sea. The strained under his pants gives him away, and to stoke the fire within him you mischievously rub your thigh, playful strokes, against his erection. Levi crinkles his face and closes his eyes as a cute little moan brushes his dewy lips.

His eyes flutter open, and through the fog of desire, he looks at you, squeezing the tender roundness over your dress. You can feel the ticklish in your core and the wetness growing between your legs. You sweep his hair off his face, and your hands slip behind him, the tip of your nose bumps with his as you cajole those mellifluous sounds out his mouth.

“Oh! Fuck!” His breath fans over your parted lips, and he can no longer endure the ordeal. He mashes his mouth on yours, crashing on you like a wrecking wave as if his purpose is to raze and rip your lips apart. The flames rise from your belly to your chest as his hand meanders down the back of your thigh while the other hauls you closer to him until his chest and your chest melt, separated by the meddlesome weave of your dress. He groans at the hitch, but he'll manage later, and ignores your whine when his teeth clamp on your mangled lip to besiege the recesses of your mouth. No matter how many kisses you’ve left behind, Levi always evokes in you a swarm of butterflies in your tummy, rippling goosebumps that seize every inch of your skin like the first time.

“Hmmm“ You writhe against him trying to pull apart and grasp for air, bus his arm around your back is unyielding. And then, you feel his fingers sneaking under the hem of your skirt, slipping beneath the crotch of your panties and tugging to the side.

“Levi!!!” You lurch back, breaking the kiss, gasping for air. his eyes are droopy, devilry tugs up one corner of his worn-out lips. “Don’t.” You huff, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. But he doesn’t give you a rest. You feel his knuckle teasing around your entrance. “No” you shake your head, but you know he’s enjoying how you put resistance while your body betrays you. Fuck.

“Why not?” He rasps in that husky voice that only makes you drip harder. “You fucking started this game.” His steady breath mingles with your erratic one.

“What…what if someone sees us?” you dither, closing your eyes and letting out a moan at the feeble contact against your clit.

He shrugs. “they better cover their eyes or look the other way.”

“Bu–“

Your hips jerk when his finger disappears inside you, coaxing a moan that he muffles with his mouth.

[weirderscience]

if i was this little guy i would bite you so fucking hard. i would latch onto your flesh like a starved sandworm and bolt my four mandibles shut with the force of an adult pitbull until my teeth converged inside your meaty fucking tendons. you could waterboard me with isopropyl fucking alcohol and i wouldn't loosen my death grip. i would suck all of the nutrients from your soft tissues until you shrivel up into a sapless dehydrated husk and then crunch my teeth into your parched crust like a cicada shell. fuck the barraki. i am the real creep from the deep.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Seventeen

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, smut, dubcon, hair pulling, dirty talk, subby Tom, but also dommy Tom

— WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

Evil though he was, she rewarded him later that night.

They were done with work and sore from it, their flesh aching from the sitting and standing and the autumn chill that beat against them as they walked toward her home. They soothed each other in bed, their nightclothes forgotten, and nestled on soft pillows beneath her ridiculous floral duvet while a mournful opera in low volumes played in the background. They had only wine for dinner. Her body was sapless and her skin cold, but her lips were painted royal scarlet from the wine, more tempting than any of her lipsticks could make it. Not that Tom had many opportunities to see them, as they lingered on his own in kiss after kiss, straying to his cheeks and chin, and every time she’d pull away he’d pull her in again.

“You are a very naughty boy,” she purred, smiling.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Have you?”

“Often.”

“I wonder why…”

“You don’t want to know.”

Her kisses stilled and she paused in thought above him. Her hands rested gently, lazily, around his jaw as she fixed him with a warning glare.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly.

“How do you know what I think you meant?” she asked with a dangerous smile.

The faint light from the lamp far on the desk behind her drew long shadows from her lashes. It gave her a wild and innocent look. He wanted to see it for a while longer.

“It’s not so hard,” said Tom. “You’re as transparent as shed snakeskin.”

She chuckled and rested her chin on his chest. “Who do you think you’re sweet-talking?”

“I think I’m sweet-talking you. Is it working?”

“Only because you’re so pretty,” she said with a smile.

Tom laughed. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, but this time it didn’t bother him as much as it usually did. Perhaps it was because she said it to tease him rather than flatter, or because she was on his body, in his arms, keeping him warm.

“So what did you mean?” she asked.

His smile mellowed to a lazy curling of the lips, and he whiled away a few silent moments curling a lock of her hair around his finger as he debated with himself whether to tell her the truth… That he’d killed people before. Just as he suspected she did or had a hand in doing when he sent Clement to her. But then, if he said it, maybe it would awaken too unhappy feelings in her and ruin their quiet, pleasant evening.

“Something that you would not like,” he said with a brush of his fingers across her cheekbone. “But which would comfort you, I think.”

She frowned and a pensive pout bloomed on her lips. “I hate it when you speak in riddles.”

Tom cocked a brow.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to make a joke of it, honest,” she giggled.

“Mhm…”

She bit her lip to stop her laughter. “Still, I hope one day you’ll tell me,” she said, tracing the edges of his lips with her finger as if she could charm them to open and reveal his secrets. “Maybe when you will think me most in need of comfort.”

“Maybe.”

“In fact, I feel myself in need of comforting right now…”

“Is that so?”

“And maybe, if you will stop brooding…”

“I think I’ve given you enough comfort for today.”

“I see,” she pouted, her eyes tracing his face like a caress. “So you would like me to return the favour now?”

Tom held her gaze, a small smile taking its place back on his lips. He kept himself a little distant but his hand was laying heavily over her waist.

“But you don’t want to ask for it,” she guessed.

He kept his silence, but let his lazy smile tell all. She understood.

He’d surmised long ago that she had her own pride and it took a bit of breaking through his prejudice of muggles to recognise that, in fact, she had reasons to be proud. And almost as soon as he noticed that about her — perhaps it happened when he overheard her holding her own against her mother on the telephone, or working diligently with clients at the shop, or getting ready in the morning as best as her few belongings could allow — he remembered several witches and wizards, like Mr. Burke or the ignorant Hepzibah Smith, who in contrast were revolting to look at, repulsive to converse with, and filled with arrogance, but had no pride because they had nothing to be proud of. No accomplishments, no talents, nor any respect and reverence for the beautiful magical things they were guardians of. It chilled Tom to think it, but the woman in his arms deserved more of that beauty and magic than many of those who, through an accident of fate, were born to it.

Before he lost sight of the moment he leaned in to kiss her and distract himself. She smiled and he felt it on his cheeks. He pulled her closer slid his other arm beneath the duvet to feel her skin, caress her sides, and refresh his body’s memory of her. That they both wore nothing greatly helped. She hummed in pleasure and reached down, her fingers, hot and quick like licks of flame, dragging down his chest with a little detour here and there to tease him before settling on his waist and curling on his narrow hips.

“You’re not too tired?” he asked.

“Do you want to stop?”

“… No.”

“Then no, I’m not,” she smiled.

He felt her legs uncoil from where they were crossed on top of his and she straddled him. Her hand gently held his head, fingers threading through his hair until her nails just lightly scraped against his scalp. Tom had never felt more feline or more inclined to purr. He closed his eyes and sighed against her lips as her body brushed against his back and forth, letting him taste the shape of her breasts, the delicate bones of her hips, and the softness of her core. One kiss melted into another and with growing urgency Tom gripped her thighs, supporting her in her sweet movements and parting her legs a little wider until they came to rest on either side of him. His fingers reached closer to her mound and he was happy to tease both her and himself with the promise of more. She gasped, then giggled against his lips when she felt what he too felt — the tip of his cock reaching up toward her. She looked into his eyes while canting her hips down and brushed the length of her slit across his sensitive head.

“You want to?” he whispered.

They never had before. It was only hands and fingers and a good deal of tongue. She didn’t answer but held her gaze fixed on his dark eyes as she raised her hips. It made Tom think, for a moment, that she would lift herself off of him completely, but instead, she lowered herself back down on him just low enough for her wet and throbbing folds to touch his cock in one long, slow caress. Her clit caught on the skin that hugged his tip and she bit her lip and whimpered, head tilting back with a shiver before she brought her eyes back onto his. His fingers curled into the flesh of her thighs.

“Please,” he whispered with all the urgency of a demand.

“Will you be a good boy?”

“No,” he answered petulantly.

She tutted and shook her head. “I suppose I have to be good for both of us, then.”

She leaned down and peppered kisses on his parted lips, nibbling at them and soothing them in turn, letting him taste her wine-sweet breath, and Tom, distractedly, didn’t even realise it when she’d lowered herself further, enveloping his tip. He gasped into her mouth as he felt his most sensitive part be taken into her warm and tight and infinitely soft grasp, further and further until something in him cracked and all his muscles tensed.

“S-slower,” he begged, his eyes closed tightly with a frown.

His nails cut into her flesh and he breathed in through clenched teeth, but above him she giggled breathlessly, leaving small kisses all over his face. She didn’t seem to care at all that she’d nearly ended him — and she called him evil…

Moving slowly, her body consumed his shaft until she reached the end. She whined and closed her eyes, absorbing the whole feeling and letting it take over all of her, then she licked her lips and moved just slightly, teasing him, pressing down just hard enough for him to feel her folds brush against his sac before parting with a sticky suckling sound.

“Tom,” she whispered shakily, burying her face into his neck. He could feel the heat of it, the blush that bloomed across her cheeks.

“What is it, my naughty girl?” he grinned.

“No,” she sighed, “you’re the naughty one. I’m good.”

Tom chuckled. “Oh, are you now?”

It amazed him how she had the nerve to turn shy now of all times. He dragged his nails across her back and it made her shiver even harder. He was glad to know that she enjoyed a little pain, just in case he had to punish her sometime.

“Show me, then,” he said. “Be good for me…”

She whined and braced her hands above his shoulders, nuzzling her heated face into his skin. He could feel it when her thighs tensed, and when she lifted herself only to come lower again, and again, and again. Tom groaned and arched his hips higher, his cock chasing her soft clasp, rubbing the weakest part of himself against the sweetest part of her. Drunk with her scent and taste and little noises, his head fell backwards heavily against the pillow, neck arched in supplication, and through panting breaths, he whispered her name. She laid kisses all over the top of his chest, her motions rushed and frantic, tickling his skin with her nipples. He could feel himself start dripping preacum into her, the beginnings of a wave of pleasure, and for a moment he felt almost embarrassed, but it was washed away with a desperate desire to take her. He finally had her and it hurt his pride to realise he genuinely wanted more.

“Harder,” he demanded, his arms pulling her legs further apart.

“Not yet,” she said between kisses.

“I won’t ask again…” he hissed. He wasn’t in the mood to play around.

“No.”

Tom huffed and gripped her tighter, and with a push of his leg against the too-soft mattress rolled her over on her back. He caught himself quickly, looming above her, and grabbed her by the arms to hold her still. She stared up at him in shock, her lips parted, gasping, and her first attempt to push him off her only shoved his member deeper.

“Wha— Oh… Fuck, Tom…”

“Like that?” he purred, thrusting down into her a little harder. He could feel the tip of her cervix and wanted so badly to batter against it. “Don’t deny me again.”

“You don’t tell me what to do…” she said, although he could already tell she struggled to keep her voice from trembling.

Even if it wasn’t Tom’s intention, he loved to see her vulnerable. He’d already figured out she enjoyed it when he took control. She closed her eyes as she centred herself, but then she looked up at him, glaring really, and with a viciously quick movement reached up to grab onto his hair.

Tom’s eyes narrowed and his teeth flashed. “Ah!” he yelped, “let go!”

But her legs came up around him and he felt her body curl. With each thrust of his, low and heavy and deep, her hips came up to meet him. If not for the punishing grip on his hair, he would’ve thought she liked it. The skin of his stomach stuck to hers, linked by beads of sweat, and when Tom started pumping into her harder his heavy sac slapped her lips.

“You let go!” she said.

“No.”

“Tom, damn it…”

“Sit still,” he hissed. “Just take it. Let me…”

She muttered a few useless curses and struggled against him but he could tell from how her eyes closed and her head tilted to the side that she was addled with pleasure. Her core sucked at him, her deepest muscles clenching. With an angling of his hips, Tom tried to reach that part of her that he knew would drive her mad.

“Aaah! Tom…”

“Right there?” he smirked, hitting that spot with sadistic precision.

Her grip on him went limp and her body arched, cries spilling from her lips, pushed out of her by him. His skin ran cold as the thought of a thousand hexes crossed his mind, things he could do to punish her for presuming she could toy with him, tell him what to do in their… what was it? For a moment he called it a “relationship”, but that was just what she was supposed to think. Nonetheless, he could not bring himself to hex her. At least, not yet. He sighed and moved a hand around to cup her breast, plucking at its tip while his hips worked to a rhythm of their own. He battered at the entrance to her womb as if he could find there the immortality he longed for. Her body grew more heated, slippery, her voice more frail with every moan.

“Be a good girl, now,” he sighed, his breath cooling her skin, “let go for me…”

“I c-can’t,” she whimpered, frowning from the overstimulation.

“Yes, you can. Don’t lie.”

“Tom… Tom, please…”

He replaced his fingers with his mouth and plucked at her nipple while his hand instead slid down between them. She nearly jumped when his cold fingers reached her clit, but Tom’s body held her down. He flicked the excited little nub while pumping harder into her, and were it not for her thighs tightening around his hips he would have thought, from hearing how she cried out, that she didn’t like it. Tom grinned around her flesh when he felt her start to tighten, her voice getting whiny and weak. He fixed his teeth around her bud and sunk deeper into her, and after only a few more teasing thrusts he felt her close impossibly around him. She screamed and yelped beneath him, her orgasm ravaging her tired body while she stayed completely under his control. Tom groaned and felt his flesh run suddenly hot. He groaned, his body stilled, and like the crack of a whip his loins convulsed and twitched and spilt everything they had in her.

“Oh fuck!” he cursed, lips loose around her nipple.

His body arched without his will, curling over hers, and his hips pushed a few more thrusts inside her as if he could go deeper still. She clenched tight around his cock, her channel flexing greedily to pull out everything he had. He spilt a shameful amount into her and she was soon overflowing until it came trickling down around his sac. When he was done he still felt his member twitching a little, kicking up into her.

Her grip around his hair had loosened, her body melting into a warm and pleased little puddle. Tom pulled away with a parting kiss to her nub and was embarrassed to see his spittle all around her breast and feel it on his cheeks. He felt like a drooling beast and nearly blushed, but then he looked up at her face again. Her eyes were closed, that angry frown all gone, and her swollen lips were curled in a sweet smile. She only frowned again when he tried to pull out of her.

“Mmmm… Don’t!” she complained without opening her eyes, her legs holding tight to him.

Tom would’ve laughed if he had the strength. “You know I have to…”

“No you don’t,” she said, her eyes parting into two thin slits that gazed down lovingly at him. “Stay here, forever.”

“I could’ve sworn you didn’t like me,” he said, arching a brow.

“You can be a brat… And you annoy me… But I like this.”

Tom chuckled and relaxed his body on top of her, holding himself up on his elbows while his cock took its place once more deep inside her. She wiggled pleasantly beneath him, as comfy as a bird in a nest, and sighed. If he weren’t still dizzy with pleasure, his skin tingling with flame, loins still throbbing to the same beat as her own, he might’ve been revolted by the feeling of his cock nestling in that sticky, damp mess — his and hers combined. But as it was, he couldn’t feel more perfect. He raised a hand up to her cheek and held it, thumb brushing gently across the flushed and tear-stained skin.

“I don’t like being played with,” he said in place of an apology.

“Oh?” she chuckled. “You were quite playful at work today.”

“You invited me.”

“We nearly got caught by Sister Silvia.”

“You enjoyed it,” he smirked.

She sighed and shook her head. Her legs stretched out alongside his and they lay tangled up together. Gingerly, he took his hand away from where it rested on her mound and brought it up a little higher, right above her womb. Then, with his lips in a half-kiss against her throat, he murmured one of the simpler contraceptive spells he could remember.

“I wish you weren’t mean to me sometimes,” she whispered, her hand coming gently up again to lay in his hair. “You scare me when you get so mean.”

“If you wouldn’t give me a reason to —” said Tom, then frowned and buried his face in her neck, ashamed. He’d just sounded like Mrs. Cole after giving him a lashing. “I just get vexed sometimes. You vex me, to be precise.”

“Do I?” she smiled. “It’s not my intention. I just… don’t know how to be around you. I don’t think I’ve met someone like you before.”

“I know,” he said. “But maybe try a little harder, and you might just tempt me not to leave.”

Immediately upon saying that, her body, though motionless, froze. It was exactly the reaction he’d anticipated.

Tom eased the tension in his arms and legs and pulled himself off her, rolling carefully to the side and pulling the blanket up to their necks, tucking them both in. He groaned at how difficult it was — to separate from her, to leave her soft warm body that still clung to his so tight. It did little to distract her from the panic the mere threat of his leaving caused, and her eyes traced him as they would a thief or traitor.

“You didn’t think I’d stay forever, did you?” he continued.

“I don’t know, I —”

“Would you?”

“Tom, what do you mean?”

“Leave,” he said, a smile hiding his deceit. “With me.”

II

She turned on her side and curled up facing him. Her aches and sores and all her tender parts were far from her mind now, even if the simple act of shifting made her hurt deliciously. She reached toward his hand that rested on the pillow and pressed her cheek to it. The drunkenness of pleasure was all but washed out of her mind by fear, despair, a looming dread, and she was desperate for any sign of tenderness from him. Tom could be so soothing when he wanted to, his hands so soft, his skin so cool, his motions smooth and silky… He reminded her of some fabled forest creature or a mystical thing that rose from rivers to answer mortal wishes. In short, he was like a dream. And she hated that he threatened her with waking up.

“I can’t go with you, Tom,” she said.

“Why not? What keeps you here?”

“Well, everything…”

He scoffed, his eyes much darker in the shadows, and yet his body, as if disconnected from his mind, stayed just the same — beside her, touching her, his thumb brushing her cheek.

“You lie,” he said. His forehead came to rest against her own, and she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

She finally felt safe enough to wrap her arms around his waist again and curl her leg over his own.

“What am I lying about, you cruel beast?” she whispered, her lips so near his mouth. Her hand slid to his hair again and scraped him gently in that way she knew he liked.

“This life. Everything about it,” he said, his eyes half-closed in pleasure but his tone quite serious. “Don’t you think it pointless? Doesn’t it make you… lose your mind sometimes?”

“But it’s… it’s not that pointless, is it? Besides, I like my job.”

“You do?” he chuckled, almost a laugh.

“Well, maybe not the job itself, but… I like the work. I like the quiet of the shop, the books, the look of them, the smell… I even like the customers we get.”

“What is there to like about it?” he scoffed, and she felt his frown on her own skin. His eyes, of such an intense dark they seemed almost red, looked into her own and through her. She wondered what he was looking for when he got like that… “Slaving away the better part of your day, and some nights besides. Coming home exhausted and capable of little more than the oblivion of sleep. Working for a crude and disgusting old fool who you know is taking advantage of you, and underpaying you, and making you do things you find reprehensible — and for what? For the privilege of working in a run-down building among books that will never be yours?”

His words taken on their own were cruel, but he spoke them without any meanness toward her. If anything, he sounded… outraged. And tired, so so tired.

His eyes lost that faraway look and found their focus again, returning to hers.

She cupped his cheek and held his face. “What troubles you?” she whispered.

“I thought I just described it in great detail.”

“But it’s just… another way to live. There are worse fates.”

“And there are better ones, too.”

“Yes,” she sighed, “but none that are available to me.”

The sharp look in his eyes told her something his lips didn’t and around her waist she felt his grip tightening.

“Yes there is,” he said, “and what path is not open, you should break open.”

She knew what he was talking about, of course, even if she was too scared to think it. “I wish I could be as good at it as you are…”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he said with a faint smile. It was incredible how that simple shifting of the features changed his face and brought back to her attention just how plush his lips were.

“I wish you’d kiss me,” she said instead.

He clicked his tongue, displeased with her, but leaned in anyway and pressed his mouth to hers in something very gentle. She purred happily, even if it was too brief for her liking.

“And I wish you’d show me the loyalty you show to your employment,” he said before she even finished licking her lips.

“Tom,” she grumbled, “I have a whole life here. My work, this flat, even my friends… I can’t just leave for —”

“For me?”

“For the unknown.”

His eyes narrowed. He must have heard in what she said a criticism of how little he revealed about himself.

“Besides,” she continued, her face still pillowed in his palm, “what do you mean about me doing reprehensible things?”

“Well, haven’t you?”

“I did not!”

“I don’t mean the things we did together,” said Tom with eerie calm. “But has the Baron never asked you to do anything… illegal?”

She felt her heart begin to thump and her limbs grew cold. He couldn’t be referring to that French boy… could he?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed to say, slowly curling in on herself.

A slow song on the radio filled the lengthy pause that grew between them.

“Now who’s being secretive?” Tom whispered. He pulled her to his chest and rested his head over hers, covering her as if he could shield her from the world. “Just know,” he added, “that I would never judge you. No matter what horrible things that old madman made you do, no matter how stained your soul becomes…”

“Thank you, Tom,” she chuckled, noticing just then that her throat was closing up with unshed tears.

“The only thing I will judge you for, however,” he said with a smile, “is weakness.”

“Well,” she laughed, “I have plenty of that too.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he said, and she felt him shaking his head. “Vexing…”

She closed her eyes against his chest, her lashes tickling his skin, and held on tighter. Here he was, hot and cold and distant and intense, asking her to leave her life for him and rending her heart straight in two. He was the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen, but he was a whole world onto himself, a braided briar of knowledge and pleasure and suffering shared — which was a good deal better than suffering alone. He was tempting.

“Stop talking,” she sighed, her hand sliding from his hair down his thin long back, and lower to his hips. “Stop lying.”

Tom took a deep breath in, and let it hiss out slowly. “Alright,” he said at length. “Then how about we forget about your duty, and mine, and live the way we wish to? We can act like those wealthy snobs who have no cares in the world. Perhaps we can even learn a thing or two.”

She buried her giggles in his chest. “You certainly know how to make an appealing proposition.”

“Good,” he said. “I should make more of them.”

“I wish you would.”

He stroked her hair and smoothed it down from the mess it had become during their lovemaking. “Why don’t we go to the opera?”

She paused in thought. Tom never struck her as the artistic type, and he merely tolerated it whenever she put on a record or turned on the radio.

“You don’t want something more modern? You… you didn’t like the jazz we went to?”

She couldn’t see it, but could feel Tom scoff. “Come now, we’re better than that.”

If she weren’t so tired, she might have laughed. “You really want to go?”

“Why not?” he said, his soft hand settling on her naked back. “If you were lucky and I were lucky and we were born to wealthy families, that’s where we would go for ‘fun’. So why not try?”

“But I know nothing of the opera…”

“That’s alright,” said Tom, sounding a little too satisfied about it, “I have the perfect one in mind.”

[strangepoyo]

If i was this little guy i would BITE You so Fucking hard, i latch onto your Flesh like a Starved sandworm and Bolt my four Mandibles Shut with the force of an adult PitBull until my Teeth converged inside your Meaty Fucking tendons, you could waterboard me with isopropyl Fucking alcohol and i wouldnt loosen my Death grip, i would Suck all of the nutrients from your Soft tissues until you Shrivel up into a Sapless dehydrated husk and then Crunch my Teeth into your Parched Crust like a Cicada shell. FUCK the barraki i am the Real creep from the deep

[nomorerealitys-blog]

EXILE - ELVES OF THE SAPLESS SWAMP by Caisne

[libidomechanica]

“But the soul, company”

What can penetrate to Haleakala Crater. But the soul, company buddes thee one, a song, my Diana, in for he had felt her? And went to further conversation is—the North. A right: and look’d disappointment her on my one prosy I saw that will not as some sneaking to many stagger insult but on all too long Harbour make not be at—thither eyes and sapless is another crument, which the vapour, what with the old the occupation.