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chloeangelic · 9 months

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Belong to me, I: Chosen

Line cook Joel x waitress reader

Line cook Joel AU masterlist

Summary: You desperately want a baby and hope that your grumpy coworker will help make your dream a reality.

Warnings: Smut, yearning, mild angst, age gap (Joel is 40, reader in her late 20s), mild brat taming, creampie, breeding kink, size kink, description of glass related injury/blood, social smoking, dom Joel (not degrading), ovulation sex, unprotected PIV, mutual pining, rough sex, size kink, ass play.

A/N: Posted a day early cause of the overwhelming response on the masterlist🥺🤍 I'm turning this into an AU that I can post to at random and just kinda use as a creative free space like I did with this, so there will be more parts :))

Word count: 4.8k Rating: 18+

You had a dream one night.

A dream that you were holding a child, your child, a little baby who came from you, whose home was your body for the overwhelming majority of her life. You held her in your arms, cradled her, ran the very tip of your finger over her little nose, stroked her soft cheek and looked into her eyes, seeing yourself in their reflection.

You had dropped her off at your friend’s house to watch her while you went and visited your parents, but when you returned, you could not find her. You searched and searched, asked every person you came across if they had seen her, but nobody had. And when you woke up, you felt that same gut wrenching anxiety over your missing child that you felt in the dream. Like she was still out there, but you had no way of getting to her.

And ever since then, you’ve felt a vacancy in your heart somehow, a pull towards something intangible, something you know you will love and cherish with your whole heart and take care with all the energy you can muster, as soon as it is in your hands.

Yearning.

A deep, almost excruciating yearning for a baby, the baby in that dream, a baby you will not have anytime soon if you are dependent on the presence of a husband or even a boyfriend to provide you with one. For as long as you can remember, you have wanted to be a mother, and it feels as though your opportunity is slipping through your fingers, even at your young age, as you watch friend after friend go off with their significant other and establish families, and you’re still single, not even looking for a special someone.

You want what they have, unbearably so, and have gotten to a point where you think you might crumble if you never get the chance to raise a child, but the idea of dating does not appeal to you, and you would rather just do it all yourself.

One time your friend asked you, “If someone put a gun to your head and told you that you have to have a kid with someone right now, who would you choose?”. You didn’t have an answer at the time, but you do now. It’s been simmering in the back of your mind for a while; the answer to that question. You’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, about how it feels like the right time for you to have this baby you so desperately want.

During the afternoons and evenings, you serve tables at a busy restaurant downtown. It’s not the world’s most interesting job, but you think you’re generally well liked at that establishment, you’re friends with everyone, and the shifts go by relatively quickly.

You walk in through the large doors, waving to Maddy as she escorts a couple to their table, swinging past the bar stools, making your way to the back office to take off your jacket and slip into your heels, giving your hair a quick look over in the mirror before you walk into the kitchen.

And there he is - the answer to your friend’s question. Too tall for the countertops and always hunched over, too broad for the narrow hallways at the back of the house. Big, very big, so muscular, with shoulders and biceps so large you wonder if he spends all his free time working out. Grumpy, never in what one would call a 'good mood', convinced that approving or disapproving grunts count as full answers when someone asks him something.

Joel, a scowling and silent mountain of a man.��

Sometimes you sneak out during his break just to chat him up behind the restaurant, even stealing smokes from your coworker to give him a reason to spend more time with you. His scent is intoxicating every time you sit there huddled next to him, especially when it’s cool out and you shove your entire body into the side of his arm and his thigh, his skin as hot as a furnace.

Even his sweat, at the end of the worst shift one can possibly imagine, smells good. He smells like cologne and fresh laundry and what you presume to be combo shampoo and body wash considering he doesn’t give much of a fuck about anything that isn’t his daughter and he’s not exactly what one would call vain.

It seems, however, as if he gives a little bit of a fuck about you.

Sometimes it even feels like he looks out for you.

And you wouldn’t have had this suspicion had it not been for the fact that you brutally cut your hand on a shard of glass a few months back when a vase tumbled and you stupidly tried to catch it. You looked at your bloody hand, heard the snap of Joel’s fingers and a few commands before you were suddenly in his truck on the way to the ER.

He sat there with you, pressing a wad of gauze to the cut until you were called in by the doctor, waited until you came out, then stopped at the pharmacy to get an excess of things you might need, and drove you home. He even stayed with you until you were fed and passed out watching a movie on your couch.

After that day, you’ve felt like his eyes are always on you, his scowl seeming more concerned than menacing, his hands suddenly there to catch you every time you’re about to trip over yourself. Something about the feeling of being protected by him has made your heart and ovaries twist around themselves, making that yearning for a baby incredibly urgent.

You want his baby now, whether he’s present or not, and you’ve decided that you’re gonna ask him for a little favor when ovulation comes around and you feel slick and needy and desperate for his come.

Which just so happens to be tonight.

The restaurant seems to get busier the second you step into the dimly lit lounge, sending you back and forth between the kitchen and your tables more times than you can count, trying to think of how to formulate yourself, how not to scare him off.

You eventually check the time and see that it’s close to Joel’s usual forced break time, and decide that you might as well take your own break now too, needing to speak to him as soon as possible. So you hear the clicks of your heels as you nearly run through the kitchen, grab the lighter from the office and push open the doors to see him already sitting there outside, his face tilted up so the sun hits his skin and bounces off the silver in his otherwise brown hair.

“You mind?” you ask as you close the door, and he nods for you to sit down next to him, already reaching down to commit coworker theft. It always feels casual, calm, even relaxing in some way, to sit out here with him, but tonight you’re on the edge, knowing he’ll never speak to you again if your request falls flat.

He puts the cigarette between his lips and looks at you while he waits for you to light it, but your hands tremble around the lighter as you try to hold it up. His eyes narrow for a moment, then his hands come up to hold around yours, making them disappear under his large palms, holding them steady and looking into your eyes until the flame catches and he pulls back. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, his accent slurring the words together slightly.

You have a speech ready, an explanation about this longtime want and need and yearning to become a mother, a rationale for why you’re ready, why you want to do this as a single woman in her late twenties, an excuse for why you don’t want to go to a clinic and find a donor who’s a Harvard graduate in his early thirties.

Why it is you want him, Joel, to be the one to give this to you, and how he doesn’t have to do anything, emotionally or physically or financially, when you finally get what you want.

But your plan falls flat as you open your mouth, your gaze locked to his dark eyes. “I wanna have a baby” is all that comes out, breathy and longing and absolutely not casual like you planned.

You watch as he flicks the ashes off the cigarette and takes a drag, looking at you with an unreadable expression, then exhaling away from you before he says, “Sweetheart.. The fuck does that gotta do with me?”.

You roll your eyes at him, never threatened or intimidated or insulted by his tone. There is something you find oddly charming about his ability to be grumpy for hours on end and seemingly never cheer up, any pleasant surprise met with the raise of his eyebrows and a slow nod. “I wanna have a baby, now, I don’t wanna wait to meet some prince charming and get married and do all that shit.. I’m happy raising it by myself, I-”

“And?” he asks then, the creases around his eyes getting deeper as a look of confusion creeps up on his face, “Why exactly are you tellin’ me this and not your girlfriends?”. You take a moment to figure out how to damage control, how to reel the situation back in and not scare him off any more, while you watch the smoke rising from between his two fingers, one thick arm resting over his knee.

“I want you to get me pregnant, Joel” you finally say, running your hand up his thigh, unable to cover the expanse of it with your fingers splayed out, and the feel of his muscle tensing under your hands makes you clench around yourself, warm wetness starting to seep out into your panties, “Please? I promise I won’t waste your time”.

He’s frozen, looking at your innocent expression and the subtle slouch in your shoulders. It’s too fucking hard to resist you, your doe eyes and little pout, and there’s something in your tone that makes his shock die down quickly, getting replaced by a strange feeling of flattery. A feeling he’s not used to. Not to mention the disbelief he feels at the prospect of you wanting to get in bed with him.

He can surely find it in himself do this for you without getting attached, without worrying about this child day in and day out, or about you. He hopes he can, hopes that he's too old to worry now. He won’t bother you, he’ll stay out of your business unless you need something. It’s an act of kindness from him, really, and it’s about time he does something nice for someone other than Sarah, who’s been the only one on the receiving end of all his care and love for the past sixteen years. Besides, you're a nice girl, why wouldn't he want to do something for you?

And more importantly, why on earth would he pass up the opportunity to fuck you? To have you under him, to see what’s hiding beneath those black pants stretched to their absolute limit by the thickness of your ass, to hear what you sound like when you come, to know what you taste like, to know how your lips feel on his, not just on his cheek when you thank him for putting food aside for you.

You’re too pretty and too young for him, he knows that, he’s known that since the first time he felt that little flutter in his chest at the sound of you calling his name. Now all he can do is cook for you, leave it under tightly wrapped aluminum foil on the desk in the back office so it stays warm, knowing you’ll look for it there when you run away from your shift in search of something to eat, with a post it note on top, your name sharpied on it, waiting for you.

Just like he waits for you, waits for the moment he sees you every day and hears you say his name again. Hey Joel, the same as always, nothing special, but bubbly when everyone else seems intimidated by him.

He has a little crush on you, a massive one actually, one he hates to admit that he's had for a while now. Ever since you sat out on the stoop behind the restaurant with him for the first time and shared a cigarette you stole from Jermaine. The guy thinks he hides the pack well, but sometimes when Joel comes out to get some air and you’re the only other one who shared the idea, you fish it out from under the steps and slip one out, seldom enough to where he’s sure not to notice.

You teased him for something that first time, and he can’t remember what. A year has gone by, but the sound of your giggle at his disapproval has rattled around in his mind every day since. You frequently tease him, wait for him to roll his eyes, then attempt to tickle him before he grabs your wrist and holds it tight until his break is over, and he pulls you up to your feet, with his other hand on your waist, letting you in the door first before he shuts it behind him.

One time, when he held your eyes for a little longer than normal, he considered asking you out, but thought better of it and closed his mouth as soon as it opened. He wonders why you're single, how it's possible for a man not to want to make you his, why-

“Fuck”, he jumps a little as he lets go of the cigarette and flicks his wrist frantically, trying to soothe the part of his fingers burnt by the ashes creeping down to his skin as he sat there speechless and not paying attention.

“Well?” you ask as if nothing happened, watching his muscles flex under his t-shirt, “What do you say?”.

“Jesus” he whispers, a contemplative shake of his head as his eyes dart around. He should ask why you want him to do it, should suggest every other dumbass working in this place, should tell you no, that he’s too old for you and you’re too beautiful and full of life and too good for this place. But he can’t find it in himself to pass up this chance, and he knows he would fuck you right. He would be good to you. He wants to be good to you.

“That’s all you want?” he asks dryly, then a long exhale, staring into your eyes, “You want me to fuck you?”. Ten years ago he might’ve been more subtle, but he's lived too much since then, and trying to find ways to sugarcoat what needs to be said feels like a waste of his time. The sound of his deep voice makes you shudder.

“I just need you to come inside me,” you purr, nervous as hell all of a sudden, wrapping your finger in his hair, ”And I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time, so.. You can do whatever you want to me”. He glances at your lips as you talk, shoulders shifting under his t-shirt and a swallow passing through his throat. “So you’ll do it?” you ask after a moment.

He’s not passing up on this chance, already half hard at the mere idea of being inside you and counting how many goddamn seconds he has left on his shift. All he does is nod in response, his eyes going a little wide. “Thanks, Joel” you say then, as you stand up and brush off your pants, “I’ll send you my address, I need you over tonight, okay?”. You lean down to place a kiss on his cheek and disappear back inside.

He stays sitting out there a few minutes longer than he’s supposed to, regretting not jerking off in the shower that morning, running his hand down his face and trying to figure out how he can make himself last longer than a minute.

More than anything, it’s strange to see him like this, to see a new side of someone you’ve been around so much. It’s difficult to conceptualize the side of him that is private, intimate, personal. You've thought about him as just a man sometimes, not a coworker, and wondered what he might be like in situations like these. In bed. You wonder if you’ll see him differently after this, if it’ll be impossible to look him in the eyes at work when you’ve felt the size and shape of his cock, when you know what he sounds like when he comes, how he tastes, what he likes.

“So, uh-” he says, as you sit on his lap with his feet planted on the floor at the edge of your bed, “What's the best way to do this?”. He corrects himself after a second, “How do you wanna do this?”. He has his hands around your waist, big and warm, and your arms are wrapped around his neck as you lightly tug at his curls.

“I didn't really think that far” you giggle, and he chuckles softly, likely picking up on your nerves.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks then.

“Um, yeah, sure” is all you manage to say before you feel his hand around the back of your neck, holding the weight of your head as he kisses you like you've never been kissed before. The scratch of his mustache against your skin is oddly soothing, and his lips are soft, his tongue molten and slippery as it sweeps into your mouth. You exhale into him until your lungs are empty, becoming entirely pliant in his hold, one hand steadying your back as you try to keep from collapsing into his chest.

A whimper escapes your throat, and he whispers, I got you, as he lays you down on the bed and rests his weight on his elbows, hovering over you and spreading your legs. His clothed cock pushes into you as he rolls his hips, forcing more of those little whimpers out and you can feel your pulse deep down where you buck your hips to grind on him.

He undresses you carefully, not leaving a single item of clothing on, wanting to see your naked form. He rolls you onto your stomach and takes the opportunity to let his hands and lips and tongue explore every part of your backside, from your ankles to your ass to your shoulders, giving a little extra attention to your plush cheeks, that he pulls apart and then lands a swat to on one side, making you giggle as he soothes his hand over the mark, already starting to sting from his strength.

You roll onto your back again and start to claw at his shirt. He reaches back to pull it off, revealing the muscular upper body you’ve wondered about for what seems like forever - years, now. A strange smile tugs at your lips as you look at him, at his arm flexing as he opens your knees to spread your legs, and he leans down to kiss you as he drags his knuckles up and down your center.

He pushes two fingers into you and you moan, loudly, too loudly. He shushes you, kisses you again as you writhe under him and grind against his hand until he finds the right spot, the one that makes you arch your back and start begging him to fuck you. He slides his fingers out and looks down to see a thick, glossy string hanging between his two of his digits, raising an eyebrow in what you assume is awe. “Told you I needed you tonight” you purr.

He huffs a little in response, “I can tell”.

He immediately finds your clit with the pads of his fingers, and rubs, slowly then fast, slowly then fast, as he unbuckles his belt with his other hand and shucks off his jeans, then his boxers, and lays on your side with his hard cock resting against your hip.

You start to squirm as he pushes his thick fingers inside you again, curls them a few times and slips them out, going back to massage your clit. “I know” he coos, “You want more, huh?”. All you can do is moan and nod, feeling your orgasm starting to pool at the bottom of your spine.

“It's okay, just let me take my time with you”, he rubs you a little faster, firmer, as he watches your breathing get erratic, “Wanna fuck you right”. He wants to watch you come, has been fantasizing about it for such a long time, wants to see it and hear it and feel it. “I’m gonna give you my cock soon, okay?” he murmurs, “Don't want it to be painful for you, my girl, need you to come for me first”. And something about his words gives you the last push you need, making you come as you whimper his name over and over.

He gets between your legs then, knocking his knee against yours to open you up, and leans over, taking his cock in his hand and nudging the leaking head into your opening. You can feel your thick, slippery wetness spill onto him, and you hear him grunt, fisting his length a few times with your slick and pushing in slowly, stretching you obscenely and filling you to the brim before he’s fully inside.

You shouldn’t be surprised at the overwhelming size of it, considering how he towers over you and is the only person you know who makes you feel tiny, but his cock rubs against every soft spot inside you and stimulates every nerve in your body, reaching a depth nobody has ever touched before.

He fucks you with deep strokes, reaching all the way to the end of you before he withdraws halfway and pushes back in, breathing hard and squeezing his hands around your hips so tightly you can feel the marks forming. You need him even deeper. “Harder, Joel, please, please“ you beg, “I’m so fucking wet and you feel so good, I- please, oh god, please”. Your voice is filled with desperation, and he wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life, the sound of you on your knees for him, wanting him and everything he can give you.

“Relax.” he says sternly, shoving you into the mattress with a thrust and holding you there with his strong hands, trapping you under him and forcing you to stay still as his cock slides in and out smoothly.

“I can’t, just hurry up, please, fuck me faster, I need it” you nag then, whiny and annoying, snapping your fingers.

He pauses then, leans over to stare down into your eyes, “Do you want my come or not?”.

“Ugh, yes”, you groan, letting out a few soft grunts as you try to shift around in his grasp and push down onto him harder somehow.

“Settle then”, his voice is stern again, commanding but patient, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Come on, Joel”, you stretch your back and try to escape his gaze, digging your nails into his shoulders and feeling your walls fluttering around him.

His hand wraps around your throat then, and his face is close to yours, that dark gaze unrelenting and demanding your attention. “Settle down” he says calmly, and holds you pinned right there until he feels your body relaxing, your slick dripping down his shaft and your nipples tickling his chest.

He flips you over and pulls you up and onto your knees, arms stretched out over your head as he slides all the way into you and the pressure on your cervix makes you try to squirm away. A useless endeavor. His hands rove around your ass cheeks and you hear a quiet shit above you, followed by an equally low fuck me as he squeezes your flesh, pulls it apart, then spits onto your asshole.

You feel him smear it into your skin with his thumb, whining at how he teases you, pushing his thumb into your tight hole slowly while he jacks himself with his other hand. You plead again, a long, drawn out please, Joel, then another oh god, please, a last more, more for good measure, and then he’s pushing the head of his cock into you, filling you with his thickness and finally inching his thumb into your ass. The intensity is overwhelming, and your eyes roll back as another orgasm nears.

“Give me one more, baby, come on” he coos as he reaches around and rubs your clit.

You respond, barely coherent and not wanting him to stop, “I don't- I don’t think it'll determine if it takes or not.. How many times I c-come”.

He gives you a few strokes, overwhelming and hard and squelching with your arousal before he says, “I read in a fuckin’ article that it helps, or, I don’t know, something”.

You shift your eyes around a little, wanting to laugh, “You read an article saying that orgasms increase your likelihood of conceiving?”.

“Just shut up and let me make you come, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Stop talkin’ so much”. His voice is low and husky as he rubs the back of your hip with one thumb and the other sinks deeper into your ass as you tighten around it.

“Why?” you ask, breathy and whiny, “All I need is your come, I- I’m not expecting-”.

He cuts you off quickly, whispering, “Jesus…”.

“I’m not gonna have sex with you if you don't enjoy it, okay?” he says, “So just shut up and take my cock like a good girl, I know you can, I know you want it”. His hand snakes up to find your tit, squeezing it before rubbing your nipple with two of his fingers.

“Besides, I know it makes you feel good, you can't hide it," he runs his palm down your back, smacks your ass firmly, then grabs it tight to stop the recoil, “You're about to soak my cock, I can tell.. Gettin’ all tense and shit”. He lifts your torso with his hand on your sternum, pulling you up and into him, shoving his face into your neck so you can listen to his growls while he fucks you.

Your orgasm hits you quite suddenly, and your head falls onto his shoulder as you pant. “How does it feel when I make you come? Huh, little bunny?”. You can’t answer, too blissed out and too fucked out to think, only mustering up a mumbled, uhhh. “Use your words now” he says, and flips you onto your back.

He lines himself up and slams back in, folding your legs and pushing your thighs into your chest as he pounds you, “Come on, baby, tell me, how’s it feel to come all over my cock?”. You grab at the muscles of his arms, his shoulders and his chest, trying to get words out but only managing an incoherent mess of moans. So good, Joel, so good, you whimper.

Then he wraps your legs around his waist and slips his arm under your back, and supports himself on his fist right beside your head, lifting you up to pound you harder, deeper, with more force as his thrusts gradually slow down and he breathes heavily, staring down at how your tits slide up and down your chest. “Say you want me to come inside you”, his voice is strained, and you can tell he’s holding back by the way his cock twitches.

You take a deep breath, and coo, as softly as you can, “Want you to be my baby daddy, Joel”, and watch his face contort, his eyes closing and feel his arm tightening its grip around you. You moan a little, eyes rolling back at the intensity. “Come inside me, please,” you beg, “Wanna be full of you, want you to give me a baby, your baby”.

He groans at that, then pulls you up into his chest so closely you can feel the sweat dripping down from his hair and onto your skin, and his cock pulsating as he fills you with his come. You can tell it's a lot by how he throbs inside you incessantly, and moans, long and ragged, while he digs his face into the crook of your neck.

He lifts your hips up, staying buried inside you, and shoves a pillow under you as a mix of his come and your slick runs down between your asscheeks, onto the cover. He wraps his hand around your throat again and growls, into your ear, “You’re mine now, little thing, all mine”.

I have ditched my taglists, due to the majority of tags not working, and have created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

#joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #the last of us smut #joel miller #dom!joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x you #brat tamer!joel #joel miller one shot

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pseudowho · 20 days

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The Stacks

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Stuck together on an all-night study session at the University library, you and your rival Higuruma Hiromi find you may have more in common than you thought...

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, rivals/enemies to lovers, breaking point smut, mild brat-taming/retribution, 'missionary so we can continue fighting'

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The twilight crept in-- but, while your fellow students were heading out for a night of drinks and debauchery, you walked under the evening-dappled willows, to the entrance of the library. You already knew it would be as quiet as the grave.

In the morning was your final, decisive Law exam; this was it. The culmination of years of effort. The final hurdle before the start of a glorious, prolific career. The recognition of yourself as the best Lawyer that your University had ever produced. And, with a curious, melancholy twinge of anger, the last time you would ever have to share a classroom with--

"You." Two voices rang out through the library entrance corridor; one disgusted, the other surprised. Higuruma Hiromi's hooked nose wrinkled at you, beetle-black eyes glinting as he straightened under a straining bag of books, to full height.

A taut moment of silence. Something in Hiromi's jaw clenched and unclenched rapidly, his foot tapping, and he looked aside. Looking back at you, his fury a thin veneer over a flicker of curiosity, he tensed to feel you sweep past him.

"I'm taking the Law section. You can grab some books, and fuck off to study somewhere else, Higuruma."

"Hey-- hey-- you can get fucked if you think you're taking over the place, sunshine--"

Hiromi prickled, rushing to catch up with you. You raced him, his long spidery legs easily putting him in front of you. Two sets of frantic footsteps running up the staircases, crashing and jostling-- "don't touch me!" "--stop it, you're a fucking menace--" "--not sitting with an arsehole like you all night--"

Hiromi and you approached the Law section at speed, a single plush sofa hidden away within circular stacked shelves, tables running between them like the spokes of a wheel. Hiromi shunted you aside at the last moment, slamming his bag on the couch with a satisfied hoot of success, turning to you with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Bastard!" You snapped, your hackles raised, and the twinkle in Hiromi's eyes dulled, replaced by tired disappointment as he looked away again, jaw twitching under your hateful gaze. Hiromi huffed, moving to empty his bag of textbooks and scattily-organised notebooks.

"Not like I'm going to stop you from studying here," Hiromi clipped, tense, "Lots of room. Didn't anyone ever teach you to share?" He teased, offering another wan smile. You rejected it categorically.

"I don't share with rats," you snapped, grabbing your bag and slamming it onto a nearby table. Hiromi was silent, tapping his fingers against his thigh, mouth puckering up into a bitter snipe.

"Yeah, well...let me know if you want to borrow my paper from the Spring term," Hiromi offered sarcastically, his anger burning low, "I know you didnt do so well on that one--"

"Shut up! My paper was perfect, it was--"

"--second best in the class?" Hiromi hissed air through his teeth, his crossed legs bouncing and jittery as he started to sort through notes, "Yeah, it's okay, I suppose...always room for improvement though, right?"

"Yeah, well..." You retaliated, stumbling over your words, "...you know where you can find a decent essay on Commercial Law, I know you struggle with it."

Hiromi ignored you, relaxed and not taking the bait. It pissed you off how effortless he found all of this, how he didn't have a competitive bone in his body...and all the while, you had toiled away blood, sweat and tears to get to the position you were.

You sat in stony silence for an hour, studying quietly. Any time you relaxed in his presence, you mentally snapped at yourself, not willing to concede one inch to such a snake--

A cup of coffee from the vending machine was dropped in front of you by one long-fingered, elegant hand. You looked up to see Hiromi loping away, warm and lackadaisical in his slim black jeans and Law school sweatshirt. You bristled. Hiromi sat on the sofa again, rolling his eyes as you pushed the coffee away from you with a huff, his own coffee hiding the hint of a smile on his lips and coal-ember eyes.

You tried to hide a yawn behind your hand. Between studying, and part-time bar work to pay your way, sleep was a rare resource. You knew no light in your life other than that from the candle you burned at both ends. Rubbing your eyes, your elbow slipped when you moved to rest it on the table. Your impeccably written flashcards hit the floor, scattering as you swore, kneeling to pick them up.

A few slow footsteps, and those long-fingered hands appeared in your vision again, helping to collect your flashcards with meticulous care. Your shoulders bunched up, and you snatched the pile of cards from Hiromi's hands when he offered them to you.

"Thank you," you begrudged. Hiromi remained on his haunches, hands clasped in front of him.

"Nice flashcards," he offered, and you bristled again, looking for insult, "want me to quiz you?"

"I can do it by myself," you snapped, turning to sit on your chair again, your back to him. You weren't sure if you heard Hiromi sigh.

"Suit yourself, misery guts." Hiromi moved back to the couch, not partaking in the bitter little competition he had never entered. As the clock ticked onwards, approaching midnight, the sky beyond the windows now an inky black, your brain began to fog. You caught yourself reading the same sentence again, and again, and again--

You heard a persistent little tapping. Hiromi had not looked up from his notes, but patted the spot on the sofa beside him in invitation.

"Come on," he pressed, soft and unyielding, "bring your flashcards over, and I'll quiz you. If we're here all night, we might as well be useful to each other."

Your resolve crumbled, despite your prickles of disgust towards Hiromi, and you picked up your lukewarm coffee and your flashcards to sit beside him. You hadn't realised how cold you were, until you felt the warmth of his thickly muscled thigh against yours. You shivered. Hiromi's gaze flicked up and down your body, his hangdog eyes impassively reading you.

He took off his sweatshirt in one fluid movement, holding it out to you. You pretended to ignore him, turning your face away with a pout. Hiromi scoffed. Momentarily, you squealed in indignation to feel his sweatshirt being pulled over your head, your arms being pushed through the sleeves like you were a child.

"Do as you're told," Hiromi chastised without venom, "and wear my fucking sweatshirt. You're cold." You swallowed, rendered speechless by his warmth, the soft notes of his shampoo, and, to your surprise, cologne.

"Did mummy buy you some nice perfume?" You jabbed, and you blushed as Hiromi surprised you with a laugh, deep, rich and genuine. Hiromi leaned across you, his face skirting so close to yours, on his way to reach for your flash cards. He moved his face even closer, his voice conspiratorial as you felt his warm, coffee'd breath over your lips.

"Mummy still thinks I'm some little boy."

You felt a shiver down your spine, feeling heat pool in your belly and pussy, before mentally shaking yourself. Higuruma Hiromi? You berated yourself internally, don't be so fucking ridiculous.

You had felt your eyes wander to him, early in your first year, his quiet confidence so magnetic. You had almost been pulled into his gravity. Then, he bested you in test, after test, after test, never seeming to break a sweat, being lauded as a prodigy, touted as the youngest Judge the Law school would ever see instated. It hadn't taken long for you to see him as the nuisance he was.

Then, he had done something unforgivably dirty, becoming a filthy little sellout, and your conviction in your opinion of him was solidified with brutal finality.

Your train of thought was interrupted by your coffee being pressed into your hands.

"Drink up," Hiromi urged, his tone broaching no argument, a wonky smile on his face which made your stomach somersault, "and get ready. I won't go easy on you."

And, he didn't. He grilled you mercilessly, becoming more and more thrilled as you snapped back each time with devastating precision and accuracy. The flashcards soon became secondary, and eventually discarded in favour of a soulful debate. The back and forth roared through you both like wildfire. You bounced off Hiromi's challenge with ease, his natural foil, and he took it all with a sultry delight that intoxicated you.

Your legs were entangled, now, facing each other on the sofa, and ribbing each other for all you were worth. You hadn't noticed how low your guard had dropped, until you saw how Hiromi looked at you, your wide sparkling smile, your twinkling eyes, your dimples. His square jaw leaned on one hand, his slim fingers stretching from chin to temple, one finger between his teeth, eyes dipped low and burning through you as he smiled. You gulped, feeling the fire warm you from head to foot.

"I'm, uhm..." you trembled, pushing your glasses up your nose as he raised his eyebrows, otherwise still as a panther in the rainforest, "...uhm...just going to get a snack...want anything?"

"...sure," Hiromi eventually answered, watching with mischief as you untangled your legs from his, "anything." You skittered past Hiromi, and it took everything in his power not to pull you to straddle his lap and see just how much he could steam up your glasses.

Turning the corner to the vending machine, you finally released the breath you had been holding. You fanned your face, pressing buttons, selecting a random assortment of snacks, and tapping your card to the card reader. Three little bleeps-- declined.

You felt a thread of panic. You checked your bank account with your heart in your throat...pennies. Literal pennies left to your name, until payday before the weekend. You now burned with shame, considering just leaving your books and bag and turning tail back to your apartment. Instead, with a furious blush over your cheeks, you headed back to the sofa, Hiromi looking at you curiously as you pulled a book onto your lap, empty-handed.

"Nothing decent," you lied, "sorry." Hiromi was silent; his gaze rendered you transparent in a way that was so unwelcome to you now. You felt a wash of relief as he stood up and walked away.

A few minutes later, Hiromi returned, gently placing a bag of crisps and a bar of chocolate down on the book on your lap. Tears of shame prickles in your eyes.

"You like these, right? I've seen you eat them before," Hiromi mused, gentle and casual. You pressed your eyes and lips shut, tears threatening to overspill.

"You didn't have to," you urged, your voice tight. Hiromi hummed to himself, taking a bite of his chocolate, and raising your chocolate bar to boop you softly on the nose.

"Big day tomorrow...today. You won't do well if you're hungry." A pause. "You work hard. It happens." You flooded with a sickening rush of gratitude, Hiromi's easy empathy almost washing away the shame.

"...thank-- thank you," you mumbled, fingers closing round his, your little heart thumping for him, as you accepted the chocolate bar. "I get paid on Friday, I'll pay you back--"

Hiromi scoffed, playful, "Don't worry about it. Just...buy the second round of drinks." You felt your stomach flip, your fingertips pressed over your mouthful of chocolate as you blushed. He was so casual about it. You couldn't see how his heart pounded in anticipation, awaiting certain rejection.

"...I...uhm...yeah. That sounds...that sounds...nice." Hiromi released the breath he'd been holding in a shaky, quiet whoosh. He felt the bridge of his aquiline nose redden. He tried to look surreptitious as he scooted closer to you on the sofa, pretending to choose a textbook.

The exam in the morning was now the furthest thing from Hiromi's mind. You shivered to feel the heat of his thigh against you again, and your fingers itched to reach out and feel the hot corded muscle of them. Hiromi wanted nothing more than to turn, pull your mouth to his, and share the taste of chocolate on each others' tongues. He was torn by indecision.

Shifting your legs, your textbook tumbled off to the side of you. You leaned back, reaching down to the floor, at the same time as Hiromi leaned over your body, his fingers stretching out, too. You found yourself suddenly bracketed by his lithe, long body, his arms either side of your head and his lap pressed to yours.

You stared up at Hiromi, like a little bunny rabbit, trapped. You reached one hand up to brush the black commas of hair off Hiromi's forehead and he shuddered, feeling his cock throb and fatten behind the zipper of his jeans. He leaned down towards you, pupils dilated, a pit of possessive thrill just above his aching length as he spoke, millimetres away from your lips.

"How long has this been almost happening for?" Hiromi pondered aloud, his cock thickening even faster as you squeaked, little hands gripping his biceps.

"Never," you challenged weakly, "it was never going to happen--"

"Yeah, right," he whispered, low and sarcastic, one hand looping behind your neck in preparation for fucking into your mouth with his tongue, "always the same shit with you--"

"-- it might have happened sooner if-- if you didn't sell yourself to that filthy company to become their corporate lawyer lapdog--"

Hiromi stiffened instantly, pulling away from you, your lips chasing his briefly in confusion. You blinked up at him, feeling so small as his face twisted in fury above you, his eyes incandescent with rage.

"I'm sorry-- what?" He snarled, climbing off of you and leaving you cold, confused, blinking.

"--you--you were scouted by that nasty finance company, right? And you accepted. Everybody said--"

Hiromi laughed, humourless, both of his hands cupping his nose and lower face as he leaned back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling, "Yeah? Everybody says, do they? You listen to everybody, do you?"

You felt a thread of dread run through you, the adrenaline of having almost been taken by Hiromi, now replaced with the adrenaline of confrontation. You felt a ruffle of indignation through you.

"I always thought you'd go that way," you asserted, doubling-down, rendered stupid by the need to win, "some little corporate rat for pay."

Hiromi's teeth clenched so hard, you heard the crunch, and you felt exactly how seriously you had fucked up. You gulped. You stood, brisk. You crammed books and flashcards into your bag, before moving to make a swift exit.

"--a--anyway. Good luck in the morning. Have a nice life."

You hurried away, towards the tightly packed bookshelves, at first hearing silence behind you, before the sudden rush of heavy footsteps chasing you and your heart in your mouth and--

You squealed, forcibly spun by one strong hand, your back slammed against the bookshelves. Books slipped and fell around your head, but none of them hit you; Hiromi barely winced as he craned over you, books tumbling off his head and shoulders while his arms blocked your exit. His hips pressing against your belly trapped you further, and you felt the erection you had left him with, straining against his jeans.

"You're smart, but you're such a fucking know it all," Hiromi spat, urging you to answer for your crimes by forcing eye-contact. You swallowed, heart fluttering between your legs, speechless.

"Oh, what? Now you shut up, huh?" Hiromi tsked, a wonky smile on his face, still twisted in anger as he laughed, humourless, into his shoulder.

"What the fuck did I ever do wrong?" Hiromi demanded, leaning down so the side of his hooked nose pressed against yours, your lips almost touching, "What did I do to make you hate me? So fucking competitive, you act like a total brat to the one guy who's good enough to keep up with you."

"Higuruma, I-- I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"Oh, no no no," Hiromi whispered, nose still pressed to yours, his cock rigid and twitching against your belly, "Hiromi, please. Enemies are just as intimate as lovers, after all." You shuddered, and Hiromi felt a drip of pre-cum soak his boxers, to see you finally yielding beneath him, and in his sweatshirt no less.

"...I did accept a job, obviously," Hiromi sniped, watching the colour drain from your face as he told you, "...at the Public Defence Office...you gullible little tart."

"...but if you think I'm such a bad person, how about I fuck you like one, hmm?" Hiromi drank down your squeak with a nose-crinkling grin, before crashing his lips to yours, moaning with relief into your gasping, warm mouth. The tension snapped in you, brittle under Hiromi's righteous rage, and you tangled your arms around his neck, pressing your body flat against his, in a kiss that was three years in the making.

"--oh, fuck yes-- fucking pain in my ass-- hate me all you like, still better than being ignored by you--" Hiromi nipped your bottom lip between his teeth, before sucking it between his, soothing the sting. You could feel how he shook with restraint, wanting retribution for years of ill-treatment. In a fleeting moment of shame-faced acceptance, as Hiromi laid claim to your neck, you realised you absolutely deserved it.

Hiromi marked your neck, sucking with his teeth and lips, raking the neckline of his sweatshirt down to do the same to your collarbones with a sandy moan. He scooped his arms under your thighs, lifting you against him, carrying you back to the sofa where he fell back, forcing you to straddle him. The sudden jolt of your clothed aching pussy against his cock made you both moan, and Hiromi bucked his cock up against you instinctively.

Feeling Hiromi's gaze burning into you again, you blushed, looking aside and sheepish. He reached up, tangling one hand roughly into your hair, tilting your head to the side, examining the lovebites down your neck with a shudder.

"You-- you're such a dickhead-- always came so fucking easy to you--" You whined at Hiromi, blushing as he laughed, his hand snaking under the sweatshirt to cup your breast with a groan of satisfaction.

"Fuck off," Hiromi scoffed, "fucking easy-- you treat me like scum, and you think I'm going to let you see me struggle? Please. Been fighting me for three years when you should have been fucking me instead."

Hiromi scooped your tank top and bra down beneath the sweatshirt, doing the same with his other hand, taking both of your breasts between his long, kneading fingers as he rutted his aching cock up into you.

"So go on then, if you're so clever...fuck me with your clothes on." You whimpered above him, feeling both of your nipples rolled insistently between his thumbs and forefingers. Your skirt had rucked up around your hips, and Hiromi swore under his breath to feel your arousal soak through his jeans, onto his cock.

He bucked up against your pussy again, and you mewled as shockwaves ran through your clit. Hiromi's fingers dug into your breasts, squeezing them with barely-contained need. You did as you were told, and hooked your panties aside, your pussy now flush against Hiromi's concealed length, and began to ride the underside of his weeping cock.

Hiromi threw his head back with a hiss, "Good girl-- not such a brat, now you're doing as you're told..." Hiromi bit his lip, moaning unashamedly to feel you hump yourself to orgasm against him. Despite his punishment of you, he already longed for you to fight back. He bucked his hips into you in challenge, thrilled when you planted your hands on his belly, your breasts squeezed together in his hands beneath the sweatshirt.

"--bet you're-- bet you're really fucking pleased with yourself--" You blushed, tears glittering bitterly in your eyes, moaning into Hiromi's mouth as he laughed again, kissing the pout off your face.

"I am, actually," he gasped, tweaking your nipples hard enough to make you whimper, "--gonna cum on my jeans, huh? Shit...don't know-- you never knew-- so fucking beautiful when you're being mean to me--'

Your thighs burned with the effort of rubbing your pussy against Hiromi, but you felt your orgasm building with the rough friction of Hiromi's trapped, twitching cock. Hiromi helped you, rutting up into you, staring at where your lap joined his, his face twisted into a feral snarl.

"--cum on me-- cum on me...shit, I need it, need to see your face when you finish...come on sweetheart--"

Hiromi's insistent growls send you tumbling over the edge, and you came with the sweetest cries Hiromi had ever heard. He watched you convulse and twist above him, his fingers still rolling over your sore nipples, his pupils blown with lust, teeth clenched with the effort of not spilling in his boxers. Hiromi rutted slowly into you, guiding through the haze of your pleasure until you came back to him, glassy-eyed and supple.

Hiromi released your breasts, flipping you over so your arse was on the edge of the sofa, with you on your back. Kneeling, Hiromi positioned himself between your thighs, one hand squeezing the plush of them, while his other pushed the sweatshirt up, his tongue drawing circles on your belly. You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging until he moaned into your skin. His mouth travelled downwards, dipping beneath your skirt.

"Want to taste you," Hiromi insisted, yanking your panties down your legs, balling them up and shoving them into his back pocket. You opened your mouth to object, suddenly self-conscious. Hiromi growled at you, squeezing your nipple again until you keened at him, high and whimpering.

"Just shut up, and let me taste you," he growled, nuzzling his nose between your folds in an instant, rubbing it harshly from side to side over your sore, abused clit. You clapped a hand over your mouth to hold back the scream. Hiromi reached up, tugging your hand away and gripping them both together on your belly, "and hear you."

Hiromi swore into your cunt, lost in the taste of you, licking quick little flicks over your clit, in a way that filled your head with stars. Your thighs trembled, and you babbled Hiromi's name, watching with fascination as Hiromi unzipped himself, pulling his fat, heavy cock into his hand. He began to stroke himself with wet little plap plap plaps, soaking your pussy with his spit in preparation for sinking himself between your folds.

"Hiromi I-- right there god yes keep going with your nose I love it-- so good, I-- gonna cum, Hiromi--"

The last syllable of his name was dragged out in a sobbing cry. Hearing you whimpering and begging him as his nose and tongue fucked you through the waves of bliss, was worth all these years of your miserable torture, Hiromi thought lightly.

You blushed deeply as Hiromi came up for air, his gleeful face glistening with your cum. He grabbed you by the hips, yanking you so they almost fell off the sofa at an angle you knew would have you twisting against him.

Hiromi grasped his red tipped cock, and you drank it in hungrily; its pretty upward curve, three thick veins running down its length, the thick jet-black hair trailing down his belly. You felt your mouth water, and Hiromi was hyperfocused, sliding his cockhead up and down your folds with hooded eyes, sloppy and pussy-drunk.

"...fuck...I can't wait-- sorry, I--" Hiromi sheathed his length inside your slippy cunt in one slick thrust, whimpering and gripping you to him with dimpled fingerprints, "-- I can't wait any-- ahhh shit, so tight...squeeze my cock, c'mon--"

You didn't need to be told, clenching involuntarily as Hiromi completely impaled you on his cock. Hiromi gasped and cursed, yanking his t-shirt up and gripping it between his teeth, so he could stare down at where his cock sunk into you unhindered.

He fucked into you, slow and smooth, eyes flitting between your fucked-out face, your hands clawing at the sofa, and his cock pushing through your tight walls, its sweet upward curve dragging harshly against your spongy sensitive spot, nudging into your cervix and belly. Hiromi rolled his thumb around your clit, pinching the fatty flesh around it, gently pleasuring you to feel the way your walls fluttered and gripped him.

You locked your ankles around Hiromi's lower back, dragging an animalistic growl out of him. Hiromi stood bringing your hips with him, holding you by the thighs as he planted one hand on the sofa above your head, and upped his pace, fucking into you with messy abandon.

Watching your glasses bounce in time with your tits as he rammed into you, stoked a competitive urge in Hiromi, and he cursed, spitting venom as he upped his pace again. You arched involuntarily, feeling him fill you with such ragged fucks, that you forget where you were, clenching and whining around him.

You felt a fire, deep in the pit of your belly, watching Hiromi with absolute awe as he chased his orgasm, using your body as a cock sleeve with total reverence. Every muscle in his body twitched with effort, and you felt his cock twitching within you as he moaned and cursed. You clenched your pussy deliberately around his length, and Hiromi almost fell apart, his fingernails leaving crescents in the smooth leather of the sofa, his face twisted in anguished ecstasy.

"--so long waited so long-- shhhhit, ugh, s-so tight-- wet, fffuck...squeeze me agai-- oh fuck yes, cumming, I-- I--"

Hiromi broke off into strangled, desperate strings of moans, spurting hot, thick glugs of cum against your cervix. Hiromi continued to pinch and roll around your clit, and you felt yourself judder weakly as you came again, Hiromi gasping as your wet, velvety walls sucked the last spurts of seed from him.

Hiromi dropped to his knees, weak, still plugged inside you, gasping. He dropped his head onto your belly, grinning at the feel of your fingers sinking into his hair, holding him to you. A few sweet moments of companionable silence.

"...still gonna beat you in the morning, though."

Hiromi laughed into your plush belly, biting the soft skin there until you squealed, hearing him mumble against his sweatshirt.

"You wish."

860 notes · View notes

peachdues · 5 months

Text

BIRTHDAY SURPRISES — NSFW

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

A/N: there is nothing redeemable about this. It’s just 7.9k words of pure filth in honor of my man’s birthday.

My husband got a boner reading this, so enjoy you whores.

CW: MDNI • Explicit sexual content • daddy!kink • elevator blowjobs • creampies • rough sex • kinky sex • brat-taming/mild dumbification • overstimulation • fluff at the end followed by more smut • not proof read lmao

Sanemi Shinazugawa has never liked the month of November.

For starters, the stupid month can’t decide what damn season it wants to be. It’s somehow too cold to really qualify as autumn and the leaves have usually fallen to the ground, brown and dead and useless, but it’s also still too warm to snow.

And November is such a tease — smack dab between two great holidays yet offering nothing but a restlessness that persists until the end of the year.

So no, Sanemi Shinazugawa isn’t fond of this time of year. But the universe has never shied away from giving him the middle finger, so Sanemi supposes he shouldn’t be surprised his birthday falls during such a bullshit month like November.

He’d been content to spend the day of his birth like he did every other year — hunkered down in his apartment with some cheap takeout, alone, without anyone to make a big fuss about it. That was the plan — his goddamn plan.

So how the fuck did he end up here?

The “here” in question is a suite at one of the city’s most exclusive hotels. The room is stuffed full of faces, some familiar but most not, packed together like sardines. The music is loud and pulsing and it threatens to give him a nasty headache.

It was Tengen who convinced him to allow this — though, Sanemi doesn’t suppose he was given much of a choice in the matter. But his friend group learned of his impending birthday a few weeks earlier, and before Sanemi could level a few, well-backed threats against any party planning, Tengen had booked the massive suite in which he now found himself, and promised Sanemi that he wouldn’t have to buy a single drink.

Sanemi agreed only on the condition that he be allowed to book a separate hotel room — several floors below where this godforsaken party now raged.

At least Tengen had meant it when he promised Sanemi wouldn’t have to spend a dime on alcohol. He took care to run up his friend’s tab by ordering several shots of Grey Goose, throwing them back as easily as water.

Hey, it was his birthday, after all.

The hotel suite is a blur of lights and colors and bodies pressed together in dark corners. Truthfully, Sanemi really can’t find any one thing to pay attention to; it’s ironic that this party is supposedly for him, and yet he feels like the most invisible person in the room.

But then he spots you — beautiful, witty, and charming you — seated in the lounge area, surrounded by both shared friends and strangers, and it’s like a spotlight has been pointed directly at you. All else seems to fall away, recessing into the shadows of the room, and his attention is locked solely on you; the star of the show that is his birthday party.

The feelings swirling in Sanemi’s chest are dangerous; lethal. He knows he should look away and accept the fact that you, with your endless pick of eligible women and men, would never deign to chase after someone like him, someone with as many scars on his heart as are seared into his skin. He knows that. He knows he’s only setting himself up to get more pissed off — to hate his birthday more than he already does.

But he can’t stop watching you.

And even if he could, he doesn’t want to. He’s only been in love with you since the moment Shinobu tugged you into a booth at a bar they all frequented. There hadnt really been any room for you to sit — not with seven of them already packed tightly onto the bench — but you’d taken one look at him and grinned, something that could only be described as mischief lighting your eyes.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” You’d asked him sweetly as you plopped your ass right down on his lap. “You look like you’re the comfiest one here.”

Sanemi, who was known for having a quick temper and an even quicker mouth, had been stunned into silence by the presence of a beautiful woman, perched on his knee like it was the most natural thing to sit on a stranger’s lap. His friends had been hard-pressed to suppress their smirks at the way Sanemi gaped at the back of your head, and he was fairly certain it was because you’d been so ballsy that you’d secured a permanent spot in their weekly bar rotation.

That had been over a year ago, and Sanemi’s infatuation with you grew deeper by the day.

Not that he’d ever done anything about it — even though, at times, it felt like you were all but baiting him into acting on his feelings. He wanted to believe the way your eyes followed him wherever he went in a room meant something, that your lingering touches were an invitation for more, but he could never bring himself to find out.

That cowardice, he supposed bitterly, was exactly what led him here, sitting alone at the suite room bar, watching as countless others flirted with you and you, right back.

A few times your eyes had tracked him across the room; one time, you looked as though you were about to push through the throng of people shoved into Tengen’s suite to come talk to him, but a hand on your bicep caught you and diverted your attention.

It’s then that Sanemi snaps. The moment he watches as the asshole in question pulls you against him for a slow grind, that jealous, monstrous thing in his chest rears its ugly head, growling and gnawing to be let free.

He’d hoped, for one pathetic moment, that you would push the man away, shake your head, do something that indicated you weren’t the least bit interested in him, no matter how fascinating his multi-colored eyes were, or how charming his feral grin was, but you didn’t. And the moment he sees the douchebag pull your hips flush against his, Sanemi knows he needs to get some air.

So with less grace than he knows he probably should show, Sanemi shoves his way towards the door leading out the suite and into the hallway.

Fuck it, he decides. He would go back to his room, several floors below, take a shower and hit the fucking hay. His birthday was bullshit, anyways.

He storms towards the elevators, slightly tipsy and certainly angry. He stabs a finger against the down button, his leg bouncing as he waits for the elevator to come and save him from his own party.

“What’re you doing out here, birthday boy?”

His stomach sinks to his ass at the familiar cadence of the voice behind him. Reluctantly, he turns and sees you making your way down the hallway wall, a smirk on your pretty lips and looking downright sinful in that flimsy, silvery dress that barely reaches the middle of your thighs.

That damn elevator can’t come fast enough.

“Go back to the party,” he says tightly, though he still won’t look you directly in the eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt your good time.”

You draw up short. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanemi only scoffs and jabs frustratingly at the elevator button, willing for the telltale ding that will allow him to step into the lift and get far the fuck away from this rager he didn’t want.

From you.

“What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?” You push, resuming your advance on him and shortening the space between your bodies. “Sanemi —“

“Save it,” Sanemi bites, and because he cannot help himself, he adds, “I just don’t particularly feel like watching you spread your legs for some lowlife asshole who can’t be bothered to remember your name.”

You blink, comprehension dawning on your face before melting to anger. “That’s what you’re so pissy about?”

Sanemi silently begs the elevator to hurry the fuck up, because now you’re only a few feet away from him and he doesn’t want you to see his fraying restraint.

You fold your arms across your chest, hip jutting out to the side. “You’re acting like a bitch because some jackass tried to grind on me? Why do you even care?”

Sanemi dodges your question with ease.

“You’re the one who fuckin’ followed me out here.”

The elevator dings and Sanemi is damn near falling to his knees in gratitude at its timing. The double sliding doors have barely finished opening before he’s already inside, jamming his finger into the button marked 26, praying it’ll move faster than it arrived.

The doors start to close but a pair of hands slam against both sides of the doorway, preventing them from joining in the middle.

You stand in the center of the threshold, eyes bright and nostrils flaring, the elevator doors half-closed around you.

“It wasn’t easy to throw this party together y’know,” you snap at him, and dully, Sanemi thinks the glare you give him is strong enough to wither plants. “Everyone went out of their way to try and make you feel special, but you’ve been nothing but an asshole about it.”

“I didn’t ask you all to do this — I begged you not to,” Sanemi retorts just as hotly, his arms folding across his chest. “I didn’t want a fuckin’ party.”

“Well, what do you want?”

the silence that stretches between you is more telling than any answer he could have given. By the way your lips part, you seem to realize it at the same moment he does, and that’s when Sanemi knows he’s fucked.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, the weight of Sanemi’s unspoken admission hanging above your heads like the sword of Damocles.

But then, the blade drops, and it must impale you both, because suddenly your hands fall from the elevator doors and are tangling in his hair at the same moment Sanemi’s fingers latch onto your waist, and your mouths slam together in a fiery clash of lips and teeth.

The elevator doors slide shut behind you right as Sanemi presses you up against the paneled wall and slides his tongue into your mouth.

At the first stroke of his tongue against yours, you tense, and for one panicked moment, he fears he’s gone too far. But then you’re melting against him, and the way you tug on his hair and whimper his name against his lips makes Sanemi loses his goddamn mind.

Time stands still and there are no thoughts in Sanemi’s brain but the feel of your hands running down his arms, his chest, pushing under the open collar of his shirt to dance along his burning skin.

They can’t get to the 26th floor fast enough, no matter how fast the numbers tick past, bringing them closer and closer to privacy —

The elevator jolts to a stop, somewhere between the 29th and 28th floors, and does not move.

It’s just his fucking luck; the girl of his dreams is pressed flush against him, her lips at his ear as she begs for him, and the goddamn elevator has forgotten how to work. If his hands weren’t so busy pushing under the hem of that slip you call a dress to fondle the curve of your ass, he might’ve put a hole through the one of the doors.

He punches the button for the 26th floor again and again, his sanity fraying with each urgent jab of his fingers, yet the elevator still does not move.

If the idea that the pair of you are stranded in a metal box of death suspended over twenty stories high bothers you, Sanemi wouldn’t be able to tell — not when you’ve decided to turn your attention someplace else.

“What’re you —“ Sanemi’s voice is hardly more than a croak as your hands busy themselves with the buckle on his belt, fumbling and tugging until the leather fastened around his hips gives way.

“Shhh!” A press of your index finger to his lips silences him. “Birthday boys shouldn’t worry!”

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his pants and suddenly they’re following you down as you slide to your knees before him.

Sanemi’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the way your half-lidded gaze drifts from his face down his body, coming to rest on the tent of his briefs, jutting out from between his thighs.

Your voice is syrupy and warm as you whisper, “I guess I should let you have your first gift,”

Sanemi forgets how to breathe when you peer back up at him, your eyes suddenly round and wide; he nearly forgets how to stand when you lean forward and press your cheek against the side of his cock where it strains against his underwear.

Sanemi sucks in sharply through clenched teeth at the sudden rush of cold elevator air against the heated, sensitive skin of his bare cock, your fingers having tugged him free from the confines of his briefs.

“F-first?” He can’t stop the way the question stutters out, not when your lips, just barely gazing against him, drag from his base to his tip. The soft exhale of your warm breath up his length has his hands shooting behind him for something — anything — to grip.

You hum in confirmation, and Sanemi’s vision almost blacks out when your tongue peeks past your glossy, red-stained lips to trail over his leaking head.

“But you’ll have to wait ‘til we get to your room before you can unwrap the next one.”

Sanemi swears he’ll set the entire hotel building on fire if the elevator doesn’t start working in the next fucking minute. His vicious promise, however, fades to the back of his mind, along with every other coherent thought he’s ever had as your lips part around his head and you take him into your mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Sanemi hisses and his head falls back against the elevator wall with a dull thump.

You him pleasantly around his cock and Sanemi nearly cums right there, the vibrations from your mouth too sweet, adding gasoline to the already raging inferno of his desire.

At first, you keep your hands primly folded behind you, only allowing your mouth to work his shaft. Every time you slide up off him, you curl your tongue against the underside of his cock and every time, Sanemi has to draw upon every morsel of self-restraint he possesses to not buck further down your throat.

But soon, your hands pat their way to his, and you bring his hands against either side of your head. You hold them there for only a moment, just long enough for Sanemi’s stomach to flip as he realizes what you’re giving him permission to do.

You peer up at him with those big eyes, so wide and deceptively innocent, and he knows you’re trying to kill him.“Motherfucking — Y/N,” he moans, threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck.”

With his grip in your hair secure, Sanemi begins to fuck your mouth. His cock slides in and out of your heat, every push shoving a little more of himself further into your mouth. You only relax your throat, your tongue still curling against the underside of his shaft in a way that makes Sanemi see white.

Sanemi’s hold on your hair tightens. “Fucking take it,” he pants, hips bucking against your face. “My little cock whore.” From his position over you, Sanemi can see the way his words make you squirm with need, your answering moan long, and deep.

Your hands flutter to the side of his thighs, and Sanemi almost winces at the prick of your nails against his skin. But despite the saliva steadily trailing down your chin and the guttural sounds choking in the back of your throat, you’re tugging him closer, your fingers inching around to grip his backside, pressing him closer and closer to you until your nose brushes his groin.

The elevator jolts with movement and resumes its descent, but neither of you notice. All Sanemi can focus on his the way his tip bumps against the back of your throat, and how your cheeks hollow against him as he ruts into your mouth.

Sanemi makes a strangled noise in the vague shape of your name. “I-I’m gonna —“

You only need to swallow around him once before Sanemi is filling your throat with his cum. With a deep groan, his head drops back, his hand splayed across the back of your skull, keeping your nose pressed against his base as he rocks his hips, his cock twitching violently in your mouth.

His eyes fly open when he feels the wetness from your tears against the sensitive skin of his groin, and he’s quick to pull out of your mouth. Your hands bracing against his thighs as you gulp down air in heavy, shuddering gasps.

“Fuck — I’m sorry,” his hands smooth worryingly over your hair. “That was too rough, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-“

Your head snaps up, and Sanemi feels a brief moment of panic at the sight of your mascara, streaked down your cheeks from an onslaught of tears. Bht then you’re smiling at him, a big, triumphant, radiant smile, and Sanemi feels almost as dumb in the head as he had when your mouth was around his cock.

The elevator slows and Sanemi hastily tucks himself back into his pants. The moment his belt is refastened, his hand is on your arm, gently guiding you up to stand right as a ding! sounds, and the doors slide open to reveal the 26th floor.

You step out first, turning back to him expectantly. “Well? What room?”

Sanemi’s heart falls to his ass as he beholds the assured confidence blazing in your eyes. “2602,” he manages to croak.

You tug him out of the elevator and for a few moments, he’s dumbstruck by his good fortune. It almost feels like a dream, that your here, leading him down the winding hallway of this oversized and overpriced hotel, eager to get back to his room and do whatever the hell it is that’s lit that fire in your eyes.

Sanemi’s awe is short-lived, replaced by a crashing wave of need and boiling desire, hot and furiously bubbling under his skin. His hand tightens around yours and he jerks you around, spinning you until you’re caged tightly between the hallway wall and his chest.

His mouth attacks your neck, biting and sucking his claim into your skin, no matter how temporary. Your leg hikes up to hook around his hips, your foot pressed against his calf, and it seems neither of you care that you’re very much still on an open hallway as opposed to the privacy of his hotel room.

“I’m not holding back with you,” he whispers against the hollow of your throat. His hands slide hotly down your sides, fingers toying under the absurdly short hem of your dress, kneading just beneath the curve of your ass. “You asked me what I wanted — I want this. You.”

Your sultry giggle in his ear chokes off as Sanemi’s finger dips under your ass from behind to run firmly over your clothed slit. A breathy fuck falls from his lips as he feels the wetness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

“That’s your main gift,” you’re tugging on his hair again until you’ve pulled him away from your throat so that you can slant your mouth over his. “Me. However you want me.”

You take his bottom lip between your teeth and suck, and Sanemi swears he’s died and gone to heaven. “As many times as you want.”

“And in whatever positions you want.”

Sanemi has never been a particularly religious man, but he thinks he’s about one nanosecond from dropping to his knees in worship of you.

Sanemi wastes no time in hauling you over his shoulder, throwing any and all cares to the wind of being seen as he slaps your ass and books the remaining trek back to his hotel room. Youre lucky his room is only around the corner, given that you won’t stop groping his ass.

Somehow, Sanemi manages to fumble for his keycard and swipes it, and he has you inside his room and pushed up against the door before it even fully latches shut.

You’re moaning and panting just from his hands, and Sanemi can feel himself already growing hard once more. His lips are feverish as they roam from your lips, to your neck, and down to the hem of your dress concealing your soft breasts from sight. His hands are even greedier, bunching the tissue-paper-like fabric of you dress between his fingers as he explores the curves and dips of your body.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

From the way your hands drag down his chest, fingers sliding between the undone buttons of his shirt to explore his chest, he knows you’re just as starved as he is.

With a slight whine, you push him back, breaking your kiss. Sanemi looks at you, but the question building on his tongue does as you kick your heels off, your fingers flying to the straps of your dress.

Sanemi feels locked in place by the heat of your gaze, and he swears he can feel his pulse tick in his neck. One by one, you push the straps of your dress from your shoulders, letting the satiny material fall down your waist and puddle around your feet.

If Sanemi thought he was losing his mind before, he knows for certain that he likely needs to be committed now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sanemi’s stare is unabashed and gaping. For beneath that flimsy scrap of shiny fabric pretending to be a dress was not your bare skin, but dark green lace and mesh and corset paneling.

A teddy.

You twist slightly so you’re looking over your shoulder, fully exposing your ass and the thong-like back of your one-piece to the slack-jawed birthday boy.

“I figured you would like this one.”

Your words knock Sanemi right off his axis, his head spinning so fast, it’s a miracle it’s still attached to his shoulders.

You’d worn fucking lingerie for his party.

For him.

You’d gone out of your way to wear something you thought he would like on the mere chance you’d end up as you were now, here in his room. You’d planned for it.

You didn’t leave him any other choice; he was going to fucking ruin you.

His hand flies behind his neck to grip his shirt, ripping it over his head and throwing it unceremoniously to the side.

Sanemi doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your pupils blowing wide at the sight of the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen.

He kicks off his shoes and his hands shove his pants quickly down his legs, grateful that he hadn’t bothered to refasten his belt or button after the stunt you pulled in the elevator.

“C’mere,” he orders, roughly. Left in just his black briefs, he lunges forward to take you into his arms once more.

Your peal of laughter as Sanemi throws you onto his king-sized hotel bed is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. He wastes no time pouncing on you, eager to reconnect your lips, to kiss you until you’re left as breathless and wanting as he is.

Between messy kisses, Sanemi’s hands make their way down your body, squeezing and marveling at the way your body seems made for his touch. And as if the feeling of your skin beneath his palms isn’t enough to drive him wild, you’re so responsive to his touch. Every stroke of his hands seems to bring you alive until you’re practically thrumming with want and begging him for more.

His fingers slide over your lace-covered cunt and he swears at the dampness he feels clean through the fabric of your teddy.

“Eager, are we?” He hums, his lips following down the path he traced with his hands. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Your hips buck impatiently against him as his face settles between your thighs. He grins at your desperation, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your inner thigh until he reaches your covered slit.

He lets his tongue peek out between his lips and drags it over until he reaches your other thigh, groaning at the faint taste of you dampening the lace.

Sanemi’s fingers push under the edge of the teddy, a breath blowing past his lips when he connects with your dripping cunt.

“Look how fucking soaked you are,” he says in awe, marveling the way your slick coats his fingers. “Is this all for me?”

You groan, pushing your hips down to grind harder against his hand.

“Just fuck me already,” you huff. “I’m ready now.”

Sanemi tsks softly at you. “You need to ask a lot nicer than that, sweet girl.”

Your impatient demands taper off into soft moans as Sanemi sinks a single finger into your entrance, his cock growing impossibly hard at the feeling of you clenching easily around him.

Sanemi practically trembles at the thought of sinking into your heat, of how you might feel clenching and pulsing around his length while he fucks you the way he’s been dreaming since he met you.

But while he might be pent up, Sanemi isn’t so much of an asshole that he wouldn’t make sure you were good and ready to take him.

So he simply tugs the crotch of your teddy aside and without any further teasing or torture, he latches his mouth to your cunt with a deep moan.

As his tongue darts between your folds, Sanemi realizes that all the cake in the world couldn’t compare to how fucking sweet your pussy tastes.

You cry out, his name stuttering out between a staccato of moans and cooes for more. Your hands twist in his hair, alternating between pulling his face closer to your core and pushing him away, the pleasure almost too much for you to bear.

Sanemi thinks he could get drunk on your taste. His eyes open to watch the way your face pinches, how your jaw goes slack to let his name drip from your tongue.

Your hands unwind from his hair to tug at the sinful draping of lace fitted against your body like a glove. “Off,” you whimper. “Off.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you want. But after another plea of “off,” Sanemi’s hands are already working to push the teddy down your lithe form.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” he soothes, dragging the lingerie off your legs. Sanemi swears softly at the sight of you, bare and spread out on his mattress, your body pliant and ready for him to use however he chooses.

“S-Sanemi,” he can’t suppress his grin at the apparent whine in your tone. “I feel so — so empty —“

He doesn’t try to hold in the groan resounding deep from his chest. Youre asking — practically begging — for his cock, and Sanemi doesn’t have the willpower to deny you.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, and suddenly your body is caged under his, his hips slotting perfectly into the cradle of your thighs. “I need to be in you.”

His lips dance feverishly up the side of your neck until they reconnect with yours.

For a moment, your kiss slows to something more sensual and passionate, as opposed to the heated and frantic kisses you’d exchanged earlier. The sigh you exhale against his mouth is the sexiest thing Sanemi has ever heard, and the feeling of your fingers latching in his hair is a sensation he never wants to forget.

Your tongue swipes along his lower lip in a silent request for entry that he’s only too happy to grant. You moan against the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Sanemi knows he’s been head over heels for you for a long time, but the way your tongue dances languidly with his has him utterly undone.

If you wanted to, he’d let you swallow him whole.

Your kiss melts into something more needy and frantic, and Sanemi feels your wetness grind down against his thigh, a pleading whimper building on your lips. With an eagerness that makes his head spin, your legs shift to lock around his waist, and one of the hands you’d had latched in his hair drifts down his abdomen until it finds his cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

“I’ve got a condom —“ Sanemi manages between desperate kisses. “In my wallet —“

But your legs tighten around his hips and your hand pumps harder at his stiffened length. “Don’t need it,” you murmur against his lips. “On the pill.”

Sanemi thinks he might pass out. “Fuck — are you sure?”

You nod, eyes bright and alert even in spite of your sleepy, fucked-out smile. “Wanna feel you, baby.”

Don’t have to fucking tell him twice. Especially not when you’re calling him baby, even if it’s a pet name you’ll only use on him for the night.

With deft hands, Sanemi flips you so that your front is pressed against the mattress. You scramble beneath him to plant your knees, raising your ass high in the air, your cunt held out in an offering he could never refuse.

He gives one of your pert ass cheeks an appreciative smack before he shuffles forward on his knees. He rests one foot on the outside of your leg, parallel with your hip, and slots his other knee between your parted thighs. One hand grips the base of his cock while the other kneads at your hip, holding you steady while also keeping your limbs relaxed as he lines his tip up with your dripping entrance.

“Unless you say otherwise, ‘M goin’ hard,” he warns, his voice rougher than gravel. “Been waiting too long to do this.”

Ever the devilish little minx, you wiggle your hips back against him, and his breath chokes in his throat when your wet heat catches him at his tip.

You look back over your shoulder and Sanemi’s gaze darkens at the challenge in your eyes. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

Sanemi decides to respond to your taunt not with his words, but with his body. In a single, fluid movement, he plunges his cock deep into your heated core, his fingers tightening around your hips with bruising force.

“Jesus fuck,” he pants once he’s fully embedded to the hilt inside your warmth.

It’s unreal; the feeling of your silken, pleasure-soaked walls moulding around his cock like you were made to take him sends a bolt lightning surging down his spine, making him shudder.

A cross between a cry and a scream tears from your throat, muffled only by the press of your mouth against the starchy blankets of his hotel bed. He’s about to ask if you’re okay, if you want him to go slow for a bit since he knows he’s a larger than average. but then you’re throwing your hips back against him, circling and grinding and mewling for more.

“Fuck me,” you moan. “Fuck me, Sanemi — please.”

“God fucking damn,” Sanemi hisses through clenched teeth. And he knows he can’t deny you, not when your whining so prettily for him; nor when your pussy feels this fucking good.

He draws back, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remains. He lingers there, for just a hair’s breadth of a moment, teasing.

Your impatient whine doesn’t last long as Sanemi slams you back onto him, the sound choking off in your throat. He doesn’t give you time to recover; he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips and drives his cock into you again and again, pounding a relentless rhythm into you that has you sobbing into the mattress.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You blubber, your fingers fisted into the blankets below for purchase as you push yourself back to meet his frenzied thrusts.

Sanemi can’t tear his eyes away from where his cock, shiny with your wetness, disappears in and out of you. “You’re taking me so fuckin’ well,” he says in awe. Your pussy is gripping him like a vice, practically sucking him back into your heat. “You like letting me use you, huh?”

Sanemi shifts so that his weight is on the knee resting beside your leg, allowing him to push harder and deeper into your cunt. You try to lift your head, but Sanemi’s hand leaves its place on your hip to press down on the back of your neck, squeezing lightly.

“Oh f-fuck,” you groaned, voice slightly muffled from where your face was half-pressed into the mattress. “Oh god — just like that — D-daddy, yes —“

Sanemi’s hips stutter. Daddy. No one has ever called him that in the bedroom before, but fuck if it doesn’t somehow make him harder than a fucking diamond.

Especially because it seems like it slipped out of you without much thought, your eyes too busy staring at the back of your skull as every punishing thrust of Sanemi’s cock into your pliant cunt makes your body bounce against the mattress.

He likes it. A lot.

“Should’ve known you’d have a daddy kink, filthy little thing,” he groans, his hand reaching under you to toy with your swollen clit.

You only moan in response, and Sanemi can’t help but to swirl his fingers around that nub, savoring the way it makes your thighs quiver beneath you.

The hand still pressing against the back of your neck slides up to grip your hair, and Sanemi pulls your head up from the bed. “Do you call everyone ‘daddy,’ sweetness, or just those who fuck you the way you like it?”

“Not everyone” you gasp, voice strained against the tight arch of your neck. “Just you — ah! Only you.”

With a growl, Sanemi’s arm locks around your middle and hauls you up until your back is flush against his chest. One hand wraps around your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks to keep your head back as he continues pounding into you.

“Look at you,” his exhales hotly against your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. “Daddy’s pretty little toy.”

Your thighs quake in their effort to keep you up. Your moans raise an octave, warbling out of your throat as you settle heavily against him, utterly helpless against the pleasure rolling through your body.

Sanemi’s hand drops from your jaw to drag teasingly down your torso. When he reaches your lower belly, he presses his palm flat, the pressure allowing the blunt head of his cock to rub against that sensitive spot that makes you sing his name.

“You feel that, baby?” And the whine that slips out of you is one he wishes he could bottle up. “That’s all me — that’s how deeply I’m fucking you.”

He’s practically holding you up, your limbs little more than jelly, but he doesn’t mind. He only increases the pressure of his hand, rubbing slightly over the softness of your stomach.

“And that’s where I’m gonna fill you up, ‘til you’re nice and full, hm?”

A stilted cry of his name is dragged from your lips, and Sanemi swears he’d marry you tomorrow, if you’d let him.

It’s not lost on him that this is likely a one-time thing; that you’ll likely leave his hotel room and the two of you won’t speak of it again, but he can’t find it within himself to give a shit.

It doesn’t matter if this is just a slightly drunken hook up — it doesn’t matter to him if it’s just sex. You’re letting him use your body for his pleasure, and that thought is enough to make his brain turn to liquid between his ears.

Sanemi falls back against the bed, bringing you with him, your back still pressed against his chest. He winds an arm around one of your thighs, holding it open to allow himself to continue fucking up into you with the speed of a racehorse.

“God you’re so fuckin’ tight — don’t want me to leave, do you, precious?”

He chuckles in your ear, catching your lobe between his teeth. His hand wedges between your thighs to play with your clit again, and the way your pussy flutters around him signals that you’re right on the precipice of your orgasm.

The first of the night, if he had anything to say about it.

“Maybe I should make you my own personal cocksleeve — would you like that, sweetheart?” You’re mewling, nodding frantically as you squirm and thrash atop him.

“Would you like to sit on Daddy’s cock all day, keep him nice and warm?”

“Yes!” You sob, and Sanemi’s fingers circle your clit even harder, determined to to make you cum. “Yes, ‘Nemi, please! I’ll be your good girl — I’ll be so good —“

Sanemi’s pace falters slightly at your words, a new idea — a wicked idea, forming fast in his mind. “You will, huh?”

He abruptly pulls out of you, though the anguished cry that rattles out of you at the loss of his warmth tugs at his heartstrings. After all, you’d been so close.

Sanemi wastes no time flipping you under him, hooking both your legs over his muscled shoulders until the underside of your thighs press flat against his chest.

“You’ll cum when I say so,” he shoves his painfully hard cock back into your pulsing warmth, his knuckles turning white under his grip against the rumpled blankets as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back at the feeling of being sheathed back inside you once more.

“And you’re gonna fuckin’ look at me when i fill you up,” Sanemi snarls between ferocious snaps of his hips. “I wanna see that gorgeous face when I cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

“Yes! Yes s-sir.”

“Yeah? And who’s fucking you this good?”

“Y-you,”

He ducks his head down to nip sharply at your breast. “Try again.”

“You are — D-daddy,”

Sanemi’s pace only increases. “Still not what I’m looking for, princess,” he’s borderline cruel and he knows it, but he also knows what he wants. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

You don’t answer; you can’t, given how slack your jaw has gone, your mouth frozen in a perfect “o” as Sanemi pushes the head of his cock right at that spot deep within you that makes you seize down on him hard enough that he sees stars.

He growls your name and when you still don’t respond, he snaps his hips particularly hard against yours.

“Say it.”

His hand shoves between your bodies, and Sanemi pinches your clit harshly between this thumb and index finger.

“Sanemi!” You wail, writhing under him. His fingers rub soothing circles against your clit, though the relentless thrust of his cock does not ease.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, and the pressure of his fingers against your throbbing nub increases. “Now cum on this fucking cock.”

That does it.

Your back arcs sharply up off the mattress, thighs tightening around his hips as your cunt clenching around him with earth-shattering force. Sanemi feels a smug wave of pride as a surge of fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin.

You fall back against the bed, limp and spent, but Sanemi isn’t done with you yet; you won’t be, not until Sanemi has left his mark.

He shifts over you, his full weight pressing you down into the mattress; his hands pushing your knees up until they’re level with your chest. You sigh and hum, still wading through the haze of your orgasm, but given the way you let your thighs spread a little wider, you’re aware enough to know that Sanemi is readying you to take his release.

It’s not enough; Sanemi doesn’t want you lost in the aftermath of your euphoria — he wants you crying out for his.

His hand grips your face, your cheeks squishing together beneath his fingers as he forces your head to tilt toward him. Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused before the clouds part and your attention is locked wholly on him.

“Beg for it,” he grits out, his hand smacking against your clit until you howled. “Beg for my cum.”

“Please!” Your cry is shrill and desperate, your hands tightening weakly around his shoulders. “Please f-fill me up — oh, Sanemi —“

He nearly loses it at the way you say his name, like it’s some damn prayer and he, your salvation, but he holds back. It’s not enough — he wants you as filthy and wanton as him.

“Use your words,” his words leave him in a single, inexorable command.

Your lower lip wobbles. “Your cum — please, please fill this pussy up. Fill me up, fuck it into me —“

Sanemi cuts off your babbling with a single, bruising kiss. He feels his balls tighten, and the prickle at the base of his spine grows hotter, signaling just how close he is to nirvana.

His hand finds one of yours where it clings to his shoulder, a fruitful attempt to anchor yourself, and he pulls it away. Sanemi presses your hand back against the mattress, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Your pussy flutters around him in time with your thumb stroking over his knuckle, and that’s all it takes.

“Oh fuck —“ Sanemi grunts before he feels himself explode. With a strangled yell, Sanemi’s hips slam into yours, pushing his cock as deep as it can possibly go, and his release crashes into him with mind-blowing force.

it’s the hardest and the most he’s ever come in his entire life. Nothing else has ever or will ever compare to this.

But even as his release spurts heavily inside your honeyed core, Sanemi doesn’t relent in his pace. His hips keep rolling steadily into you, prolonging his release to the point his toes curl, and he wonders whether his nose might start bleeding.

The corners of your mouth tilt up, a pleased groan vibrating loud and wanton in your throat as you feel him fuck his hot seed right into the Eden of your body.

Despite the mind-numbing pleasure of his orgasm, Sanemi won’t let himself look away. The face you make as he fills you up is the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Sanemi stays buried in your heat for several more moments as he comes down from his high, his head dropping into the crook of your shoulder. With a grunt, he pulls out, dropping down next to you in a flurry of messy blankets and pillows.

You push yourself to your side, a hand coming to push the sweat-dampened ends of his bangs from his eyes. “Good birthday?” You tease, your cheeks flushed bright red, your eyes bright.

“The best,” Sanemi agrees, his eyes scanning your face, committing every detail of you and your post-sex glow to memory.

The two of you lay next to one another for a little while, talking and quietly laughing. Neither one of you seems eager to leave the bed, and Sanemi in particular finds himself hoping today never ends.

Eventually, nature calls and he excuses himself — reluctantly — to the bathroom. When he emerges, he’s greeted with the sight of your ass, bare and exposed as you nestle into the bed, one leg kicking lazily up into the air behind you.

Fuck, you’re too beautiful, and he is far too weak.

He approaches the side of the bed, stretching out one hand to drag teasingly down your spine, until he reaches your ass, knuckles kneading the soft flesh.

His eyes flit to the small clock perched on the hotel nightstand. Sanemi’s grin turns lupine as he reads time reflected by the green-tinted digits.

Sanemi’s fingers skirt down to your ankle, gripping it firmly in his hand. He tugs you over the side of the bed until your head dangles off the edge, your hair stretching towards the ground. “Looks like it’s still my birthday, darling. I ain’t finished enjoying my present yet,” he grips the base of his half-hard cock and taps it against your lips. “And I’ve been dying to cum all over this pretty face of yours.”

—-

True to his word, Sanemi takes him time ravishing his birthday gift. When the clock on the nightstand finally reads 12:01 AM, he flops down next to you, chest heaving as he works to catch his breath.

You lay beside him, panting in tandem with him from the exertion of the night’s activities. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t sticky as a result of the heady mixture of your sweat and Sanemi’s cum.

You feel his eyes searing into you as you trail a finger through the milky white splattered across your chest — a favorite place of his to cum, as you’d learned, second only to spilling inside of you.

Sanemi hardly holds back a whimper at the way you bring it to your lips, letting your tongue lick your finger clean of his pleasure.

“You’re trying to drive me wild, woman,” he throws a tired arm over his face, shrouding his eyes. “You torture all your hookups like this?”

He’s surprised at how quickly you sit up in bed, your eyes flashing.

“Hookup?”

Sanemi props a fist under his cheek. “Well, yeah,” he winces slightly, searching for more careful words. “I don’t expect anything from you. I appreciate the birthday surprise, though.”

Your gaze is leveled, and your voice even. “I don’t buy lingerie for one-night stands, Sanemi. That shit is an investment.”

His eyes blow wide, and he feels the erratic thrum of his heart stuttering in his throat.

“I want you,” you say firmly. “And I had every intention when I followed you in here tonight for this —“ your hand waves back and forth between your chests. “— to continue.”

It’s a miracle Sanemi is able to speak at all. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

You grin. “Well, now that you’ve fucked me, I guess you should take me on a date.” You pause, trailing one delicate finger down his chest. “But I won’t make you wait until we’ve been on three before I let you fuck me again.”

Your hand dips below the edge of the blanket and glides teasingly over his cock, already beginning to stir once more. “You’re far too delicious.”

Sanemi snatches your hand and rolls you under him before you can blink, your answering giggle the sweetest music ever to grace his ears.

“Y’know, in other parts of the world, it’s still the 29th,” he murmurs huskily, grazing his lips against yours. “So by that logic…”

You nod, eyebrows drawn together in seriousness. “We’re obligated to keep celebrating.”

Sanemi’s lips are already trailing down your body, savoring the taste of himself on your skin. He settles back between your legs, marveling at the way your thighs fall to the side so easily to accommodate his mass.

He presses a sweet kiss against your clit. “You’re just the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you, darlin’?”

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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chuuyasheaven · 8 months

Note

bsd men as tits ass or thighs pls :3?? (specifically meursault boys)

“Tits, Ass or Thighs— What do they prefer?”

“—Everybody’s got certain preferences, don’t they? So, what are theirs?”

Tags: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Chuuya Nakahara, Sigma / afab! Reader, Nipple play?, ooc! Sigma, praising kink, degrading kink, overstimulation, pet names?, hdc format ig, thigh riding?, hickeys, mentioned lingerie?, spanking, mild brat taming, atp everyone may be ooc, face sitting, oral sex (afab! and m! recieving), titty job, messes of their milk, might contain grammar errors, this is a lot holy shit, etc.

Notes: Maybe u just meant Dazai, Fyodor and Chuuya but I added Nikolai and Sigma for funsies— hope this is okay tho!! And I never wrote for Sigma before so sorry if he’s so ooc. . Maybe he’s gonna be added to my list lol.

Dazai Osamu ;

💙 Thighs 💙

💙 I just know that he loves your thighs!! In my opinion, DAZAI lives for seeing you in thigh highs, especially if you have thick thighs. What do you mean you don’t wanna crush him with them??? What else are they made for then— oh, right, hickeys. It’s obvious that he’ll leave some marks here and there for fun, but another thing he lives about them is face sitting. This is literally the best way to die?!!? But also he lives to grab your thighs when he eats you out!!!

💙 Scenario;

He’s been at it for too long, you don’t even remember how many times you came already. . “Dazai, p–please. . S–sensitive!”, you tried to beg, but Dazai was way into this— Once you sit on this mans face, he won’t let go until your too sensitive, Dazai also always leave hickeys while he’s at it. Chanting how he would love to die this way, being crushed by your massive thighs. “—Why should I? You’re still talking properly, I won’t stop until you’re only able to moan my name. Now be a good girl, alright, ‘donna?”

Fyodor Dostoevsky ;

💙 Thighs 💙

💙 In all honesty, this man is a mystery for me– but if I would have to chose, thighs. FYODOR is kinda religious and stuff, meaning he’s definitely gonna be kinda traditional. (i do not know wtf I’m talking abt.) Fyodor doesn’t know what it is, but something about you in white lingerie and white thigh highs sets him off completely. Looking all innocent but being the complete opposite? Yes, absolute approval from him. But being the busy man he is, he’ll let you sit on his lap while he caresses your thighs!! :3

💙 Scenario ;

Seriously, how desperate are you? Walking up to Fyodor in white lingerie and white thigh highs while he’s obviously working? He finds it quite amusing how you think he’ll stop immediately to fuck you, no he won’t, yet. Fyodor just commands you to sit on his lap, now you’re getting off on his own thighs. But you’re still wearing panties, though he doesn’t care, you wanted this, didn’t you? As you keep grinding against it, he slapped your pussy through the fabric multiple times before. The small whines and whimpers are cute, but won’t change his mind to take you right now. “—I don’t really know what you expected me to do. . Well, actually, i did. It’s quite adorable how you think just because you’re desperate I’ll feed into your desires. Anyway, you seem to be getting off pretty easily, slut.”

Nikolai Gogol ;

💙 Tits 💙

Come on, this is so NIKOLAI, seriously. He's so silly, he would literally call them his personal stressballs. (Do not even try to deny it, it's canon.) Nonetheless, he likes to cum on them, Nikolai will make a mess out of them every time whenever you're giving him head. Another thing their useful for, in his opinion, is tit fucking!! It's a nice feeling for him when his dick's inside of your tits. Not to forget, your nipples are pretty fun to play with, but there's one last thing about them. .

💙 Scenario ;

There are many reasons why Nikolai adores you riding him! He loves how he barely has to do anything, hearing the adorable sounds leaving your mouth while you get off on his cock and most importantly, the way your tits bounce with you. All he's doing is laying back and enjoying the view of your tits almost bouncing out of your bra, he would love if they were to actually jump out. “—Hm, would you look at that! Your tits are seconds away to spill out of your bra, dove. I wouldn't mind if they did, maybe you just need to ride my dick faster. . Just like the needy whore you are.”

Sigma ;

💙 Tits 💙

I’m not really sure if it’s accurate, but running an casino ain’t easy. So what’s better than having you and your comfort. .—able tits? SIGMA would never admit it, but he loves them, dearly at that. If he ever needs an break, his head would probably rest on them. On the spicy side, he loves a good tit job. You mentioned this once and Sigma wasn’t against it, sure he was blushing over your suggestion but after he tried it, he loved it!!!

💙 Scenario ;

It felt good, really, Sigma loved your suggestion! He never thought of something like this, he never thought about recieving a tit job, but it felt heavenly. Just the way your tits were rubbing against his cock so good, it felt unreal. . The most beautiful whimpers left his lips, with his flushed expression on his face too, you assumed Sigma was enjoying himself, very. Soon he reached his climax, letting his cum leak on your tits. “—F–fuck. . You did s–so good, darling. Now, lay back and let me return the favor, yeah?”

Chuuya Nakahara ;

💙 Ass 💙

Ah, yes. CHUUYA is, in my opinion, an ass man. I saw a few people say that, and I agree. Like, he’s literally proud of that. He would slap your ass unexpected, respectfully though. He wouldn’t care if you’re carrying a bakery or not, he still slapping it!! Chuuya loves to spend money on matching bras and panties for you, but on your in general. Sometimes it gets to your head or something and you start to act out, which our ginger won’t let slide.

💙 Scenario ;

Lately, you’ve gotten on Chuuya’s nerves. Yeah, he loves to spend money on you and you, but he won’t stand you being bratty. As to right now, he’s ‘punishing’ you for it. The reference for ‘punishing’ is quite just fucking you until it’s stuck in your pretty little brain not to act out again. This time though, Chuuya added something to your punishment. . “Ch–chuuya. . ‘m sorry, I–i didn’t mean to—”, you tried to apologize, only to be silenced by another spank. “—Really? Too bad, you’re gonna take this if you want me to fuck you, baby. Just keep on taking f’me and I’ll fuck you soon enough, m‘kay?”

OH EM GEE YOU GUYS IT TOOK ME THREE DAYS TO FINISH

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4law · 2 years

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❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓 ❞ — 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 !

pairings : ace, crocodile, doflamingo, luffy, marco, mihawk, sanji, zoro x f!reader

contains : brat taming, brat taming, brat taming, dacryphilia, overstimulation, size and strength kink, degradation, teasing, mild belly bulge, mating press, choking, subspace / dumbification, + individual tags!

info : 3,000 words. smut. minors/ageless blogs dni. best in dark mode. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

filled requests : one & two. thank you!

— 𝐀𝐂𝐄 ｡ riding, mating press, teasing, size kink, “pretty”

“what’s got you so worked up today, huh?” ace coos, hands gripping the globes of your ass to roughly bounce you up and down his length. your mouth falls open at the fullness, your own nails digging into the muscles of his back to fight the moans threatening to escape your lips.

“you’ve been such a brat..”

he knows you won’t respond, and he knows you’re doing everything in your power to hold back your moans from him. you’re well aware that he’s addicted to the sounds you make, but you’d hate to admit that you just want to see what happens when the second commander of the whitebeard pirates gets impatient with you.

“well?” ace chuckles, shifting his thighs to bounce you deeper on his cock— forcing you to take the entirety of it as you choke out a moan. “you got a reason?”

the subtle smirk on his face widens a bit when he feels you struggle so hard to take him, lewd noises coming directly from your dripping cunt. he tilts his head to plant sloppy kisses down your neck, heavy breaths fanning against your skin.

you can feel his lips tug into a knowing grin. “ahh…i know,” ace whispers just below your ear, “did you just want an excuse for me to stuff with you with my dick?”

you don’t respond, but he doesn’t miss the way your walls tighten around him at the lewd suggestion. you want it bad, you want what he has to offer you, but you want to push him a little more.

“no response huh…” he feigns ignorance.

you’re suddenly flipped onto your back, ace’s muscular body looming over yours as his hands hold each thigh to your chest. “w-wait!” you stutter out.

“if you aren’t gonna respond, i’ll just have to make you show me your voice,” he coos, pressing your thighs up into a mating press to bury his dick back inside your throbbing hole. this angle is deeper, his cock reaching the deepest parts inside of you. “you like it like this, don’t you?”

“i know. because you always tighten up so much.”

ace’s gaze is fixated on your hole, watching it desperately try and swallow his fat length as he pounds into you with pure strength. he loves the sight of it, your juices dripping onto his cock and the way his balls slap against your body with each thrust.

“lemme hear it, pretty. all the cute noises you make for me when you cum. all of them.”

— 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐄 ｡ cunninglingus, overstimulation, is consensual, term “doll” and “brat,” hair pulling (his)

crocodile lets you act out. he lets you hold his head against your cunt, lets you grab a big fistful of his hair and violently tug him closer to you. with every tug, he narrows his eyes at you, a glare that you thought served as an empty warning, simply because he never pulled away from you, but you were wrong.

he lets you do as you wish, eating you out at your pace until you’re too fucked out to even hold his head anymore. that’s when he starts acting on his own desires.

his big arms are wrapped snuggly around your middle to keep you perfectly still for him, forcing you to let him eat you out the way he wants to. his tongue is moving all over your cunt, dragging the flat of his tongue roughly against your pearl before slurping at your slick, lips tugging into a smirk when your thighs tremble in his hold.

“you were suffocating me just a few minutes, doll,” he teases, watching your expressions.

“n…no more, crocodile, ‘m sorry.”

your words come out slurred, half lidded eyes staring at him, the one who’s settled between your thighs with his hands easily wrapped around each leg. your hand comes to grasp at his head weakly, only for his much larger hand to lace itself between your fingers, giving you a squeeze as a silent warning before pinning your arm off to your side.

“quit squirming, you brat,” he warns, eyes locking with yours before his lips tug into a smirk.

he absolutely loves this look on your face, the one you make when you’re fucked dumb, squirmy body finally still as you accept your fate and take what he has to offer.

crocodile tilts his head, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh to look up at you through his lashes, chuckling when your cheeks fill with heat at his gaze.

“i’ll show you what happens to brats who act up.”

— 𝐃𝐎𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐎 ｡ tw dacryphilia, mild choking, term “slut,” size & maybe strength kink

on a normal day, just trying to take doflamingo’s cock was a challenge in itself. it takes a lot of prep, a lot of lube, and a lot of time before you can manage to fit even half of it in your little hole. today is no different, the thickness of his cock practically splitting you in half as it pummels the deepest parts of you.

a large hand slams over your mouth, muffling your sobs. “don’t make me so mad,” doflamingo coos into your ear, “how many times do i have to tell you?”

he lifts your smaller frame up with ease, until just the head of his cock is sheathed inside your cunt. “you know what happens when you make me mad, don’t you?”

you shyly nod, sniffling into your arm as he watches in amusement. he doesn’t hide the fact that he gets off to you struggling to take him, and the faces you make when your attitude finally breaks down— the face you make when you realize you never had a chance to take control of what would happen in the first place.

a loud squeal escapes your lips when doflamingo suddenly slams you back on his length, entire cock buried inside your cunt in one swift movement. “y-yes! i know what happens—” you hiccup, heat rising to your cheeks when he chuckles.

“that’s my little slut…you’re so smart..” he grins, finger hooking underneath your chin to force your eyes to lock with his. “tell me what happens when you make me mad.”

“i have to…t-take…whatever you give me..!”

there’s a short pause, and your stomach sinks when his tongue clicks at your error, hand wrapping around your throat in an instant. “wrong.”

“why…!”

he chuckles harder, not missing the way your walls clench so pathetically around the cock splitting you open. “it’s not ‘have to.’ he corrects, squeezing your throat gently until you squeeze your eyes shut and whine.

“you get to. it’s my gift. be sure to remember it, even after i fuck all the thoughts outta you.”

— 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘 ｡ extremely mild belly bulge, luffy pins u down by ur hands & then ur stomach, overstimulation

luffy’s hand wraps around both of yours, pinning them high above your head as he pounds into you with swift thrusts.

“i said stop moving.”

his voice is just a bit lower than usual, a tinge of seriousness in his tone. he’s always relentless with you, hips moving against yours on pure instinct as your body sways up and down from his roughness, his figure reduced to a blur.

a heavy grunt escapes his lips, and his free hand pushes down on your stomach to keep you from arching. “i gotta keep you still,” he exhales, “or i’m gonna slip out.”

his breath hitches in his throat when he feels it. with the angle he’s pounding into you from, he can faintly feel the outline of his dick when he bottoms out, just barely able to feel it underneath the skin of your stomach.

“i’m d-deep,” he stutters loudly, wide eyes suddenly darkening at the thought of his cock so deep inside you. his pace doesn’t falter, and he adjusts his thighs to pound into you harder, to see just how deep he can really get.

you’re too overstimulated to even whine, let alone complain, and your eyes roll back as you let him hold you down and use you. he never even gave you a chance to be a brat, holding you down with so much strength that you have no other choice but to lay there and take everything he has to offer you.

you can never tell if he’s being selfish or selfless, but you aren’t able to think that much right now anyways. especially not after he’s just figured out how much you tighten for him when he applies a bit of pressure onto your front.

“stay still. i wanna get deeper,” he says, fingers coming to rub at your clit. “wanna see how much further i can go. and i wanna see your face when i do it.”

— 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎 ｡ tw dacryphilia (extremely mild & just a mention), term “baby,” kisses, light choking

“you needa behave, baby,” marco sighs into your ear. “or do i needa teach you all over again?”

his eyes narrow in on the way your hole desperately flutters around his length, your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him in closer. he wants to take his time with you though, and you’re not letting him.

“did i not teach you well last time?” he coos, hips moving agonizingly slow against yours. “i thought i did…seeing you cry over how well i was fucking you…”

a deep groan escapes his lips when your walls tighten around his cock in response, fluttering eagerly around his length. “is that it?” he sighs, “you want that again?”

he chuckles when you nod, a visible pout on your face from how slow he’s going. you want more. you want him to pin you down by the neck and pound you with his full strength— not to say that the way his cock is slowly dragging against your walls isn’t already bringing you to the edge.

“all you had to do was ask, pretty.”

marco’s hand comes to wrap gently around your neck, half lidded eyes watching your expressions carefully as he picks up the pace, aiming to pummel the spot that has you seeing stars the fastest.

your jaw drops at the roughness, your thighs barely able to continue hugging his hips— so your arms come to wrap around him, pulling him onto you and accidentally pushing him deeper inside you. your eyes widen from the way he’s slamming directly into your cervix.

“d-deep!” you stammer out, eyes wide from just how far inside his dick feels, your cunt completely full each time he bottoms out. you arch your back, a futile attempt to escape the overstimulation he’s giving you, but his hand quickly wraps around your neck, keeping you pinned on his bed so he can have his way with you.

“well, that’s what happens when you latch onto me like a koala huh?” he chuckles, leaning down to prop himself onto his elbows as he plants wet kisses along your jawline.

“why don’t you spread those pretty legs wider for me? let’s see if you can feel me in your stomach.”

— 𝐌𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊 ｡ u sent him nudes while he was at a meeting, lingerie

“i was at a meeting.”

mihawk’s voice is low, holding both of your wrists behind your back with a single hand as he bends you over his dining table. “could you not wait until i came back?”

you can’t hide the cheeky grin spreading across your face. your curiosity got the best of you, wondering how the greatest swordsman would react if you sent him a photo of you in lingerie, black lace with green accents accentuating your curves so nicely for him.

and of course, you knew he’d be mad, but you didn’t know he’d look so hot like this. “can’t wait,” you retort, lips tugging into a grin when you think of an idea. “i haven’t been able to cum in a long time after all.”

there’s a brief moment of silence, your own stomach flipping at the realization that you just indirectly accused a warlord of not being able to make you finish.

you gasp when your thong is pulled upwards, lace slipping roughly between your folds as he tugs on it. mihawk sighs heavily above you, eyeing you with an unknown expression you wish you could see right now.

“you need to get put in your place.” he says flatly, letting go of the fabric to have it slap against your skin. a hand comes down to press on your back when you jolt upwards, keeping you flat against the table for him. “you’ve been too bold. sending me those pictures while i was out, and acting the way you are now..”

“don’t think that you’ll be able to come out of this room able to walk.”

— 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 ｡ praise, “angel,” “my love,” cunninglingus

sanji is always so eager to please you. his hands are running up and down your sides, head nestled comfortably between your thighs. his eyes are focused on your cunt, grinning at the way you’re dripping— all of that for him.

“what am i going to do with you, angel?” he sighs, but you know good and well that he’s happy to take care of you.

your hands roughly tug at his disheveled hair, pulling him closer to your throbbing cunt, but he doesn’t budge. he’s gently massaging your tits, letting you relax in his touch.

“you just have to ask nicely, and i’ll give you what you deserve. say ‘please’ for me.”

you want to act up, you really do, but he’s so precise with his touches, fingers tugging at your nipples before lightly rolling them between his fingers, drawing the prettiest noises from your lips.

“did you hear me, my love?”

sanji slowly drags the flat of his tongue up your thigh, cock twitching at the way you shiver from it. “if you’re good for me, i’ll make you feel even better,” he whispers into you.

“p-please…sanji,” you mumble against the back of your hand.

his heart flutters at how cute you are, hiding behind your hand even when your legs are spread wide open to let him in. he lets out a chuckle— one only filled with adoration and love— before his hands hook around your thighs, pulling you flush against his face.

in an instant, two fingers are deep inside your cunt, curling them against your favorite spot as his tongue eagerly flicks over your clit. he knows your spots like the back of his hand, and he knows each reaction you’ll give him depending on where he touches you.

“see?” he says between licks, “it was easy, wasn’t it? now i’ll reward my angel.”

his fingers curl faster against your spot, pummeling it with frightening precision as you sob loudly.

“cum for me if you want your next reward.”

— 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎 ｡ very heavy overstimulation, dumbification / touch of subspace

“what do i have to do for you to stop teasing me in public?” he snarls from where he’s looming over you, arms trapping you against his workout bench as he buries his cock inside your cunt. “huh? answer me.”

he didn’t intend on fucking the life out of you, but the sight of you, too overwhelmed by how he feels, only makes him harder.

your mouth falls open when he pounds into you faster, body rocking up and down with the force of his thrusts. he’s so big when he’s hovering over you like this, wide chest reduced to a blur as your eyes roll back.

“want me to bend you over your own bed and take you until you’re too dumb to think up these little plans of yours?”

he’s not sure if you can comprehend what he’s saying, but he continues anyways, bringing a thumb down to swipe over your clit roughly, drawing a loud cry from you.

“tell me. what’s it gonna take?”

“i don’t…i don’t know….” you sob, chest heaving up and down from the overstimulation. his pace doesn’t falter, hips brutally slamming into yours. “need me to fuck the manners into you? stuff you with load after load until you’re full?”

his hand dips down to squeeze your cheeks together, puffing your lips out as he makes you look at him. “where’d your sass go?” he snarls.

“you tell me, since you wanna be a brat so bad. what’s it gonna be?”

“z-zoro…needa cum..” you slur, half lidded eyes pleading with his to the best of your ability. “let me…”

he watches as your mouth falls open again, back of your hand covering your eyes as you lay there and take it. your cunt is barely able to keep up, dripping hole spreading to let him deeper inside and take care of you. “can’t talk anymore, huh?” he grins.

he cups the back of your head, lifting your body closer to his to let you cling onto him like a koala. “it’s too early for you to drift away though. come back.”

“i still needa teach you a thing or two.”

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eelnoise · 3 months

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supplicate (nsfw!)

18+ MDNI!

Trafalgar Law x afab!reader cw: mild brat taming, teasing, edging, snarky law, piv sex, creampie an: this one kinda went overboard and was not meant to be this long. it was supposed to be two drabbles for both zoro and law but i kinda got carried away. i'll post them separately or whatever idk. tagging: @bby-deerling @themushroomofdeath @risenwrites @kaizokuniichan @strawheart-pirate

At this rate you were going to kill him.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair as his jeans tighten again. You’d been at it all day – touching and teasing him every chance you get. Running your fingers down his arm when you bring him coffee and lingering far longer than you usually do before departing with a small smirk across your lips, not-so-subtly unzipping your boiler suit just enough for him to get a glance of the soft flesh that lies beneath when you cross paths throughout the day’s work, and he doesn’t miss the sultry, half lidded gaze that seems to follow wherever he goes.

Must be some kind of cruel joke, he thinks. Something you and Ikkaku had conspired together to conjure just to drive him up the wall. Law wasn’t keen on any of the crew knowing of your shared… situation, though considering the fondness you have of your crewmate, he should’ve known it was inevitable. And usually, he pays it no mind – so long as he isn’t bothered by any unwelcome, irritating comments or jabs.

But today it eats at him, riles him until your very image is superimposed onto the backs of his eyelids. As much as it pains Law to admit – your stubborn attempt at teasing him had worked, and probably much more than you even knew. Of course, he could simply take care of the ever growing, insistent need for you right now – right here in his office, and without you. He considers it for a moment as he leans back in his chair. There's poetic irony in the thought, and he chuckles selfishly to himself imagining the look on your face when he doesn’t give what you think you’ve won.

Though why deny himself the sweetened privilege of correcting your impish behavior? You’ve earned it at this point, a victory certainly – though perhaps not quite the prize you seek. Law’s mind reels with possibility, bringing him to a point of distraction that leaves him unable to focus on his own tasks. He wants to teach you a lesson, wants to hear you beg, whine, writhe beneath him, pleading for release that he plans on withholding until your absolute limit.

The way his cock throbs painfully against his thigh gives him an answer that he can’t ignore, and without a second – more rational – thought, utters a near-silent “Room. Shambles.”

Suddenly it doesn’t matter where you were or what you were doing. And Law isn’t surprised when you appear before him looking smug and as expectant as ever.

“Took you long enough,” You begin, the coy edge to your voice cutting through the silence that had been his prison for the past few hours. “Thought maybe-”

Law slides backwards away from his desk and cuts you off with a snap of his fingers – a sure signal for you to keep your mouth shut. “Strip, and make it quick.” The way you shiver from his words alone does not go unnoticed, lips twitching upward at just how easy it is to make you come apart from him.

Spurned onward by both his demeanor and his obvious predisposition, you hastily peel your layers off and leave them in a heap around your feet and step toward him. Law leans back and places his elbows on either arm of his chair. Seems like you’re going to have to work for it.

He only assists you with a slight raise of his hips when you move to free his cock from its confines and allows you to pull his jeans and underwear down as you see fit to do. Instinctively you lean down with means to wrap your lips around him, but Law grabs you by the forearm and clicks his teeth – twisting you around to settle into his lap.

Law reaches down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you into a position that aligns himself near perfectly with you, and pressing your back to the edge of the wooden desk. You gasp when he glides his length along your slick folds, an excited half-mewl that lets him know that you’re exactly where he wants you to be. He delights in the sight of you trying in vain to roll your hips for any sort of friction, but his hold on you is too heavy and the attempts get you nowhere. “Law – come on!”

At your frustrated plea, Law tilts his head forward to peer at you with a knowing smirk on his lips. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be talking,” He purrs smoothly, breathing hot upon your neck. “Let alone making demands.”

He ruts his hips slowly – painfully – against you. Whines befall your lips as he lazily slides his cock up and down your pussy, making sure to press just a little harder against your clit. Law knows what makes you tick, having analyzed and researched each reaction to his ministries over the years at sea. He knows just how to make you cry out in limited bliss, how to inch you right to the precipice of paradise – only to whisk it away at the blink of an eye.

Why should you get away so easily?

Still tight within his grip, you’re at his will. Each stroke of him against your walls, feeling every throb of his cock within you leaves you a whiny, needy mess. The frustration turned ecstasy in your gaze cracks his guise further, though not enough to unmask him – yet.

He’d never admit it at a time like this, but the way you sound, the way you feel, the way your expressions twist and curve at his teasing – he needs you like a man needs food. And deciding that you’ve had your fill of his game is a good enough excuse to up the ante.

Law guides himself to your entrance, and using the abundance of slick that glistens along his flesh, eases you onto him. You hiss out a moan as he bottoms out, and a moment later he’s bouncing you up and down his cock, pace still unhurried and languid.

It's agony, sweet and unsated passion that you’re not being given despite your best attempts goading both now and throughout the day. Your laments fall on deaf ears as Law continues his tortuous campaign, pulling you down onto him until your hips are flush together, letting the head of his cock twitch against the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back in your head. You’re desperate, the need for him begins to outweigh your tolerance of his little game – so you do the one thing that you know will make him crumble.

You reach out for him, pressing a hand to his cheek to lead him into a tender kiss. Law’s eyes widen in surprise, but cannot help to fall into your trick. He closes them and leans into you, deepening the lip lock and groaning in satisfaction. You slip your tongue between his lips and the grip on you loosens enough to allow you to more freely grind on him.

It takes Law a moment to come to his senses, too lost in kiss and affection to notice that you’d taken control. He breaks the gesture with a growl and a feral grin to match, and that's all the warning you get before he stands up from the chair and folds you backward onto the surface of the desk. Papers crease and books shift as he presses your thighs up to your chest, his cock drilling into your core as fast and as hard as he can give you.

“So fucking needy,” Law taunts, hovering his head just out of your reach. “Look at you. You’re desperate. Drooling for the thing only I can give you, isn’t that right?” He follows up the words with a smack to your thigh and a low chuckle.

So much do you want to speak, though words fail you again and again. You’ve been reduced to nods and wails of pleasure, and Law is living for it.

He brings you to the edge so many times, and only a handful does he allow you to leap. Law’s stamina doesn’t give, and just when you think he’s close he stalls to a near stop – leaving you breathless and panting and giving you some respite before slamming his hips back into yours until the sound of skin against skin echo throughout his cabin once more. “Law, I can’t–” You wearily exclaim, tears pecking at your eyes beyond the hazy, fucked-out gaze you’re giving him. “It’s too much, I can’t…”

“Of course you can,” Law directs from above you. He clasps your jaw with one of his hands, lithe fingers grasping and forcing your face toward his. “You’ll take everything I have to give you since you’re being so good for me now, won’t you?”

The familiar tug from low in your belly pulls once more at his words, and in an instant you’re cumming again around his cock again. His name falls from your tongue like it's the only word in your vocabulary, and it sends his mind reeling. Law’s words eventually deceive him, and soon enough he’s digging his nails into your thigh and sighing into your neck as he fills you to the brim with his own cum.

The moment stalls, and for a moment Law looks at you, the hand nearest to your face coming to rest gently upon your cheek. You offer him a smile, and it makes his heart skip a beat. It always does. Law leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, and trailing an even softer one to your lips. It isn’t something he says often, what he’s saying to you now. The simple phrase is a whisper on his tongue, and made only for your ears – it's one you return just as quietly, though almost too eagerly.

After all, you do love him.

#one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law sm #law smut #op imagines #lawrence!

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thedevilspearl · 10 months

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➛ the good, the bad and the bratty

a/n: here it is!!! cowboy!diavolo surprised me because he was voted least out of the top three yet i found myself loving him so much that i couldn’t stop writing and it turned into a whole fic haha check out the other cowboys here!

tags: 2.0k words, cowboy!diavolo x female reader, bondage, spanking, brat taming, breeding kink, mild exhibitionism. minors do not interact!

diavolo had a busy morning rounding up the sheep that slipped through the fence during the night. he crept out of bed without waking you, leaving you with warm blankets and a kiss to your cheeks as he pulled on his jeans and shirt.

you’re an expert rider, better than him although he won’t admit it — stubborn cowboys never do no matter how sweet they are.

but not waking you up to catch the sheep with him wasn’t due to his pride but rather the fact that you were up all night riding something else entirely.

he had you slamming up and down on his cock for hours, grinding on him until you both passed out. his cock throbs at the memories and he adjusts his crotch in his tight jeans before fastening his belt.

diavolo sighs, wishing he could spend the morning walking the perimeter of the ranch on horseback with you beside him, but you tired yourself out last night. you deserve rest. and on top of that, he can only imagine how sore your pussy must be.

he’d be the devil if he asked you to sit on a saddle before fully recovering.

so at dawn, he ventures onto his land and mounts his horse to chase after the escaped sheep. it takes hours, but once rounded up, he works on fixing the fence and then checking on the cattle.

it isn’t until long after noon when he spots you coming down to the barn.

“hey, sweetie,” you mutter with a kiss to his lips. “why didn’t you wake me?”

you smirk at his eyes widening from your appearance. it’s a hot day so you opted for one of his flannels and a pair of cowboy boots. his shirt is baggy enough to cover you, but the only thing on his mind is whether or not you’re wearing anything under his shirt.

“thought ya needed some rest after last night,” he teases. “you worked so hard.”

“well, you work hard every day looking after the ranch.”

he chuckles lowly and you find yourself warming up at the sound.

“so, what’s the plan for the day?”

diavolo is about to tell you he did most of the work and the only thing you should be doing is resting, but his inconveniently friendly neighbours interrupt him.

“hey!” mammon calls with beelzebub following behind him. “you got hay?”

“what happened to yours?” dia quips.

“found mould in ‘em. can’t use it anymore.”

both cowboys tip their hats in your direction as greeting.

“mornin’, boys.” you beam.

“afternoon,” beel corrects you. “but i assume it’s morning for you.”

they both grin and wink at diavolo, knowing exactly what happened last night given your attire. and diavolo hates them for thinking about you like that.

“why don’t ya head back to the house?” diavolo leans in and suggests. “get something to eat.”

you know he means to say go put on some clothes. or at least stay away from these guys while you’re dressed like that. jealousy rises from his body and you read him easily.

perhaps it’s the exhaustion from last night, or maybe it’s due to the heat, but your brain is frazzled enough to make you want to disobey his request and piss him off. for some reason, making him more jealous sounds like a good idea.

“i already had breakfast.” you say and hop onto a pile of hay, crossing your legs so no one can peek up the little clothing you have on.

dia stares at you starstruck, silenced by your boldness. and the other two cowboys suffocate in the growing tension. beel’s eye’s wander around the room nervously, not landing on anything specific. and mammon lets out a long whistle.

“so….” he clicks his tongue. “the hay?”

“there’s more round back.” diavolo says without tearing his stern eyes from you. you cower under his gaze, knowing you may have gone too far.

when mammon and beel disappear behind the stable, you hop down from your pile of hay. you thought it would be hot to tease him in front of the others but it turned out awkward so you wander back to the house. but diavolo grabs you before you can make it two paces out of the door.

“what?” you ask with feigned innocence.

“you know what.”

“i don’t.”

he scoffs.

“are ya wearing anything under that?” he asks, and your silence is his answer.

he rips open your shirt, his shirt, and buttons go flying in all direction to reveal your naked body. your tits sit freely and your bare pussy was only inches away from being exposed if the shirt was lifted high enough.

and yet, you jumped on that pile of hay without a care in the world, without caring if his neighbours saw what only he is allowed to see. and it angers him in ways it shouldn’t.

“dia!” you push him away, but he doesn’t let go of the shirt and because of its huge size, it slips off your frame too easily.

the cowboy is stunned for a second, but he gulps and tips his hat in your direction, admiring your glowing body in the sunlight.

he was ready to scold you for acting so scantily in front of his friends, but instead of listening to logic, he listens to his cock. despite the hours and hours of fucking you did last night, it aches for more.

and what turns him on to a point of no return is your god damned boldness, not even trying to hide your perky breasts or pretty pussy. your stand before him with confidence he can only admire.

mammon and beel are minutes away from walking in on you wearing nothing but a pair of cowboy boots and diavolo feels inclined to teach you a lesson.

you would dare to be seen naked by anyone other than diavolo?

not on his watch.

your brattiness knows no bounds but you’ve certainly got him in the mood to tame it. to teach you that no one else is allowed to see your pretty, perfect body.

he very rarely uses the lasso he carries on his hip, but all of a sudden he feels inspired to use it.

“c’mere.”

you ignore him, drifting away further without looking back and acknowledging him. if you step outside any further, there’d be no doubt the others would see you.

“don’t ignore me. i told ya to c’mere.”

you turn around with sass, standing with your hand on your hip. “or what?” you follow his hand down to where it grazes against his loop of rope and your heart beats faster, and your pussy throbs.

“don’t make me use this on ya, sweetheart.”

you swallow thickly, feeling your body burn. the thought of him tying you up is provocative, but using his lasso on you?

it’s unexpectedly the sexiest thing you’ve ever imagined.

and he knows it too.

“you like the sound of that?” he smirks and takes big steps towards you. “i’m sick of ya acting like a brat, ‘specially in front of other guys. how about i teach my little cowgirl a lesson, hm?”

you bite your lips and he hovers above you, eyes raking all over your form.

“want me to tie you up and teach you a lesson, baby?”

you nod eagerly but maintain the daring brattiness in your glare.

“i want ya to say it, sweetheart.”

“yes,” you yip, a little too excitedly. “use it on me. tie me up and fuck me good, dia.”

your heart flutters as the corner of his lip twitches upwards, and your pussy clenches as diavolo moves swiftly. he spins you around grabs both of your wrists in one of his hands, somehow rough and gentle at the same time. and with his other, he loosens his lasso before looping it around your wrists and pulling.

he then works some skilful magic to have your elbows touching together and the rope lacing around the length of your forearms.

it’s tight enough for you to be unable to fight against it. not that you’d want to.

your bound wrists rest on your lower back and he pulls you back into the barn, slamming the door behind him.

“what a fucking brat i’ve got,” he growls and bends you over on the pile of hay you were previously displaying yourself on. “wants to get fucked like an animal, huh?”

“yes, dia,” you moan. “wanna get fucked so good.”

you wiggle your ass in front of his crotch which earns a harsh slap on it. and then another.

“best be quiet or those assholes are gonna hear ya.”

you moan louder and lewder when he slaps your ass a third time.

“or don’t.”

diavolo wastes no more time in loosening his belt and pulling his cock from his jeans. it throbbed and ached all morning and now he can finally relieve himself by putting you in your place.

he grabs you by the rope, pulling you upright and pressing your ass against him.

“fucking brat,” he grunts rubbing against you. “was last night not enough, huh? greedy pussy’s got you acting up like a slut.”

you whine loudly, defiant against his words. his large hand lands on your ass again, causing you to yelp and your whole body to jolt from the impact. writhing to free yourself from the rope is a fruitless attempt, but diavolo enjoys the sight of you struggling.

“use your hands.” he orders.

you could ignore him, piss him off even more. but your pussy is so fucking desperate to be filled and battered by his huge cock that your brattiness slowly fades away and you follow his orders quickly.

it’s difficult to move in the position you’re in but with the little freedom your bound hands have, you arch into him and stroke his huge cock. “fuck, dia. you’re so big. want it in me so bad.”

“patience, brat,” he mutters and runs his hands up and down your body, squeezing your tits with one hand and rubbing your clit with the other. “gotta wait for them to come back.”

arousal leaks from your pussy and you continue jerking him off until the familiar footsteps in the gravel grow louder, and dia takes it as his signal to push you down on the hay again and slam his cock into your soaking pussy.

“fuck!” you scream as your pussy welcomes him in greedily. “dia!”

“you like that, huh? you like my cock?”

“yes, i love it!” you moan loudly, gasping for air against the hay. “i love your cock.”

“that’s right.”

he continues hitting you with thrust after thrust of his hips, the sound reverberating through the wooden walls of the barn. it may be muffled from the outside, but there is no doubt the others can’t hear you.

your pussy is still sensitive from last night, but more than eager to please diavolo’s cock as he drills your hole, slamming against all the right places. “ah! fuck, dia, i’m gonna cum!”

“you’re gonna cum? your bratty pussy’s gonna cum all over my cock?”

“yes!”

“fuck,” he gasps. “want me to cum in your pussy, hm? fill it up ’til ya can’t take no more?”

“yes! dia, please!”

“gonna fuckin’ breed ya.”

“do it, dia! do it!”

“gonna knock ya up, show ‘em all how good i fucked ya!” he groans. “gonna teach my brat a lesson and knock her up.”

your cries turn into fully incomprehensible moans, but he knows you want it as much as he does. you want him to mark your body in ways it’s never been marked before and claim you as his forever.

so while you babble away, you both rock against the hay with hot, sticky bodies and there’s nothing but steamy air and filthy words between you.

before you know it, your orgasm washes over you and your pussy tightens around his cock, causing him to spurt ropes of his cum into your pussy.

your pussy tightens, causing him to spurt ropes of cum into your pussy as you scream in delight; your orgasms instils pure bliss into your body, as it does to dia who lets out an animalistic growl as he fucks you both through the high.

“who fuckin’ owns this pussy?”

“you do! you own it, dia.” you mumble, barely able to form words with how much you’re moaning. “you own my pussy. you own me.”

“that’s right,” he grunts. “i fuckin’ own ya.”

with one last rut, he stills deep groan and leans over, panting above you and pressing soft along your shoulder as you gasp for air.

“your mine, brat.”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x female reader #obey me smut #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo smut #diavolo smut #diavolo x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 6 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ❤︎ 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍

ㅤjavier peña x plus size f!reader

genre: smut, strangers to lovers/fwb, minors dni

word count: 4.5k

summary: it's the 80s. when the dig you've been working at has to take a short break due to escobar and politics, you decide to wait it out at medellín. while hitchhiking, a charming stranger pulls up.

warnings: mild weed usage (reader), car sex, nipple play, dirty talk, dry humping, age gap, piv, creampie, unprotected sex, brat taming if you squint, some weight-related insecurities if you squint but mostly she's just vibing and living her life

a/n: i would really consider writing more of this so please let me know what you think! a special shoutout to @inklore because i feel like i wouldn't think about hitchhiker smut on the bus if it wasn't for her fic roadside delight which all of you should go and read rn because it's amazing, ily bby 💗

**dividers by the amazing @saradika xx

Raindrops land sparsely over your skin, most of the wetness caught over your cheeks. Sliding down your neck, they sneak beneath the sweetheart neckline of your olive green dress. The skirt dances with the wind, teasing the inner curves of your thighs as it playfully flutters in your wake. Despite the rain, it’s still warm. However, that doesn’t stop the chill of the gray clouds from settling over your skin. With a deep sigh, you lift your thumb once more.

You have no idea how long you’ve had your thumb sticking up; maybe it’s been only ten minutes or an hour, regardless, you’re frustrated and want the wait to end.

Some cars had slowed down but upon seeing the men that were driving, you had quickly hidden your thumb away. You knew what they were thinking. Thanks to the rain, there was only little left to the imagination. The dress that already hugged your breasts and hips hugged you even tighter now, the fabric almost sheer as it exposed your tight nipples. You should’ve brought a jacket with you but honestly, how were you supposed to know it was going to rain today?

“Fucking hell,” you mutter, pushing your wet hair away from your neck in frustration. Not a single car in sight after what you thought had been at least ten minutes of waiting. Clicking your tongue, you reach into your bag, retrieving a lighter and a joint thoughtfully rolled by one of your colleagues at the excavation site. It was greatly appreciated since you weren’t the best at rolling.

Taking a drag, you sigh, the smoke mingling with the misty air. The excavation site had declared a short break due to some unforeseen issue related to the escalating Escobar problem in the region. It's hush-hush among the team, but you've caught snippets of worried conversations about increased security concerns and the need to lay low for a while.

Your shoulders relax as the smoke swirls in your lungs, your body now feeling rejuvenated instead of cold under the rain. In the distance, you hear the soft hum of a car approaching and narrow your eyes as you look at the distance. Your eyes light up when you see a car approaching and this time, no matter who’s in it, you promise yourself you’ll just get in.

The cigarette still between your lips, you lift your thumb with enthusiasm, taking a step further into the road, you giggle slightly thinking you might just as well jump in front of it to make it stop. You want to get out of the rain, want warm clothes and blankets.

The car comes to a smooth halt.

You lean towards the already open window, you quickly pluck the join away from your lips and smile broadly at the dark-haired stranger.

“Hola,” you say, hoping your accent is decent enough. “¿podrías darme un aventón?”

The stranger gives you a curious look, his lips curl upward, eyes dropping to your cleavage before lifting them back up to meet your gaze. Your breath catches in your throat, chest heaving at the sight of him. He’s beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, plump lips. Blinking, you swallow and press your legs together, thankful he can’t see it.

“Where you headed?” he asks.

“Medellín,” A timid chuckle escapes your lips. “Did my accent give it away?”

“A little,” he jerks his head to the side. “Hop in. You must be freezing like that.”

Grateful, you open the car and slide yourself inside. Warmth immediately envelops you like a cozy blanket and you sigh happily, leaning into the comfort of the seat. “Thanks,” you say, offering your name along with it. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Javier. But you can call me Javi.”

“I think I’ll stick to Javier, I like the way it hits my tongue.”

He grins, “Do you, now?”

It takes you everything to ignore the delicious roll of his tongue and how it would feel on your skin. You lift your hand suddenly, the joint visible between your fingers.

“Is it okay if I smoke this in your car?”

He looks confused for a brief moment. You notice him taking in deep breaths, sniffing the air, his eyes go slightly wide with realization but then the surprise in his eyes molds into amusement.

“Go ahead,” he says. “You’re awfully bold to ask that without knowing who I am or what I do. What if I was a cop?”

“Cops don’t look as good as you do.”

Shit.

“I look good?”

You hear the mirth in his voice and quickly change the subject, “You want one?”

“No,” he answers firmly. Confusion furrows your brow and his tone quickly softens. “Let’s just say I’m not a fan. And it’s illegal.”

“Oh, sorry. I can put it out, you don’t have to be nice about it.”

He thinks about it for a while but shakes his head. “You don’t have much of it left anyway,” The car starts moving and you look at the spot you’ve been waiting at for god knows how long one last time. Good riddance. “So, Medellín, what business do you have there?”

“No business,” you answer promptly, taking another drag. You blow the smoke out the window, the wind whisking it away. “I’m studying archeology. I was doing research at Ciudad Perdida but we had to take a break for safety reasons. We might still go on so until I get a firm ‘go back home’ I was thinking to wait it out there.”

“It’s not really safe there either, you know. You gotta be careful when you get there,” he gives you a side glance, eyes moving up and down your curves. Your heart rate escalates and when you press your legs together once more, it doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re awfully squirmy there,” he says, voice low and all gravel. “You okay?”

Your veins buzzing, you throw the remainder of the joint out the window. Your head is swimming pleasantly, the smoke loosening your tongue and making you eager to confess all the dirty things you want to do with him. But along with that, uncertainty creeps in. You don’t even know if he wants you that way. He seems older than you. He might’ve just been looking after you and the lust you heard in his deep voice might’ve just been in your imagination.

“I’m not squirming,” you say quickly. He doesn’t look convinced by your answer, hands tightening around the steering wheel. “How long until we get there?”

“A couple of hours,” his eyes catch your lingering gaze and he smiles. “There’s a gas station a little ahead so I suggest you go to the bathroom, sweetheart. If you have to go.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You hungry?”

Your hand wanders to your stomach, you can’t tell if he’s asking because of your appearance or if it’s a genuine question. He speaks up before you can decide. “I’m starving,” he says. “I also need to buy a pack so if you want anything just tell me. I’ll pay.”

“I have money.”

He laughs at that, and laughs even harder at your pout, “You’re a student in Colombia, hitchhiking. I doubt you have much,” he shrugs. “Besides, you’re a guest in this country, let me treat you.”

“You’re being awfully nice.”

“Am I? I don’t think so.” You see the gas station coming into view. “But mamá always did say I had a soft spot for pretty girls.”

“You think I’m pretty?” you answer, hoping to have more a sultry tone but your words come out breathless. Excited.

The car slows, his eyes are glued to your neck, he slowly moves them down. His dark gaze eating you up. You can almost feel it caressing your skin, heating you, and licking over the waterdrops that stubbornly remains on your skin.

“Don’t say it like you don’t already know.” The car stops along with your breath. He pulls the keys out and leans close, lips almost touching your pulse. You feel his breath on your ear, warm, it coaxes goosebumps to rise across your skin. His eyes trail over the curve of your lips. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, “No.”

His lips touch your cheek. It happens so quickly that you feel you might’ve imagined it. The rough hairs above his lip tickle your skin and you instinctively chase the heat of him as he moves away.

Before you know it he’s out of the car, the patch of skin where his lips touched still burning with delight. Stunned, you touch your cheek with the tips of your fingers.

Maybe waiting in the rain for someone like him wasn’t so bad after all.

You should’ve known it would end up like this.

Him, to park the car in a semi-remote spot.

You, to cradle his lap, your dress pushed up all the way up exposing your soft thighs with his hands all over you.

You should’ve known.

The soft pitter patters of rain hit the top of the car, you’re too occupied by his mouth to realize the sun had slowly started to peek through the clouds, warming the damp concrete. Javier’s tongue is awfully skillful. He slips his tongue between your lips, licking himself deeper into your mouth, his hands pull at your neckline, exposing your bare breasts. He flattens his palms against them, your nipples tighten against the heat of his palm.

He breaks away with a groan, “I knew you were braless,” he rasps, dipping to your neck. “I fucking knew it.”

“And I knew you were staring,” you tease and expose more of your neck. He nips at the tender skin playfully, a shiver runs up your spine. “Here I thought you picked me up out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

“No—god, no. I don’t ever want you to stop.”

And that’s all he needs to hear as he lifts your breasts towards his mouth. He dips his head, swirling his tongue over the pebbled flesh. Your body seizes. Your breath caught in your lungs, burning like wildfire. He twists the other with his finger and you moan loudly. The fabric of your underwear grows damp, sticking to your skin. He sucks harder. The thick outline of his cock rubs against your core, a feeling like electricity shooting up your spine, your head falls and he bites.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” you whimper, grinding down. Another wave of arousal washes over you, the effect of the weed you inhaled pounding between your thighs.

Javier glares up at you, “Such a dirty mouth,” he grunts and holds your tongue between two fingers. Your brows furrow with pleasure, the hard denim of his pants growing damp thanks to you. “I don’t like bad girls. And you seem to be walking on the edge of it, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m not bad,” you whimper, your words slurring thanks to his hold on your tongue. He lifts a brow, unconvinced. You don’t know why you’re hurt by him calling you bad, but you want to make it up to him—why you do, you have no idea. “I’ll. . . I’ll be good.”

“Promise?”

You only nod and he pinches your tongue, pain blossoms over the soft muscle.

“Promise,” you slur. “I’ll be your good girl.”

Satisfied for now, he releases your tongue and brings his hand back to your aching nipples. He sucks on one while pinching the other, both sensations making your mind whirl.

“You like it when I play with your tits, hermosa?” he groans at the way you rolls your hips, pulling away his lips, he starts playing with both with his fingers. Twisting, pinching, and pulling. You’re trembling. A sopping, wet mess. “So sensitive. You think you can come like this?”

You only moan, your lids fluttering like a butterfly’s wings as you look at him. He smiles, something dark crossing over his handsome features. “I think you can,” he says. “Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

Slack-jawed, you answer, “Y–Yes.”

Javier guides the sloppy roll of your hips. His mouth on your neck, he teases the flesh there while mercilessly playing with your tits however he sees fit. Your nipples are so hard from stimulation it almost hurts, Every twist of his fingers prompts a fresh wave of arousal seep into your underwear. Your body is out of control. Burning from the inside out. You’ve never felt it this intense before, never felt your orgasm nearing so viciously.

His lips hover an inch away from yours, you part your mouth for a kiss but he smiles cruelly, you can smell the hints of tobacco when he speaks, “I can feel how soaked you are, baby. So wet and all for a stranger you just met,” he nips at your chin, gives your nipples a hard pinch that makes you see white. “I wonder if you’d do this with all the others who would’ve stopped for you?”

“Others did slow down,” you say followed up by an elongated whine. Javier thrusts his hips, the rough denim of his pants catching against your clothed clit. He licks your bottom lip. “But they gave me a weird feeling so I hid away my hand. So. . . I wouldn’t do this with just anyone.”

“Fuck, preciosa, you’re saying all the right things,” with one hand, he slides your dress up further, fingers teasing your slit. “It’s an honor to have this cunt all to myself.”

Only then does he kiss you. It’s hungry, depraved. He sucks on your tongue, presses his lips hard into yours. The hand toying with your core moves to your hip, he squeezes your love handle, tugs you down as he thrusts his hips into the air. You cry out and he swallows the wanton sounds that rattle your throat.

“That’s it, come for me,” he purrs, his hips pressing into yours. You grind down helplessly, aching to feel the hardness of him. Your ears begin to ring. Your body tingling and tensing while the taste of your nearing release stains your tongue. Your eyelids flutter closed, his lips once again drawing an aching nipple into his mouth. He sucks and sucks and sucks—and you finally break down, gushing and squeezing around nothing. You feel the wetness bleeding into the fabric, your legs shaking around where they frame his narrow hips, your head falls over and the soft locks of his hair soothe your burning cheeks.

Javier is still moving against you. His cock painfully strained against his zipper, coated in your slick. Both his hands drop to your waist, squeezing as he finds your lips, giving you a tender kiss.

He doesn’t say a word, his hand sneaking between your legs, he slips them under the elastic and pushes two between your folds. You swear you feel his cock throb when he realizes how wet you truly are.

“Shit,” he breathes out. “Fuck, you really did come. Such a good girl,” he lifts your head by the chin and stares into your eyes, your pulse races again. “Good girl,” he repeats, watching as your lips tighten and eyes go wide. “You feel so good on top of me, making a mess out of these shitty pants. You come so pretty, querida.”

“Javier,” you moan, your nipples tightening again.

He pulls his fingers out out and tastes you in earnest, he moans around his fingers, “So sweet.”

You moan again, the fire between your legs roaring to life. He cups your breasts and pushes them towards you, watching the way your eyes roll, “Let me fuck you in the backseat,” he says, as if you would ever say no to that. “I wanna see this ass bouncing on my cock.”

No one ever mentions how awkward car sex can be, especially when you need to move around.

You try not to show it to Javier but you have a sneaking suspicion your face is basically an open book. He slides to the back first, moving between the middle of the front seats. Moving around in a car already makes you awkward, it’s even worse when your tits are out in the open, moving side to side.

But you guess it can’t be too bad since Javier is staring at them instead of you.

“Is it bad that I want to play with them some more?” he chuckles.

“Definitely not,” you smile back, the light-hearted conversation gives you the courage to finally move between the seats. He quickly slides to the side, his lips on yours before you can even sit. He strokes his cock through his jeans, tongue dancing along yours, he sucks the air from your lungs.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, watching, he unbuttons his jeans. You strip quickly, your body already aching to feel him deep inside you. He hums with approval when you’re bare to him, he doesn’t bother taking off his clothes, instead, he slightly pushes down his pants and frees his cock.

A bead of precome glistens at the head, the head of his cock swollen, a hint of red adding color. He’s thick enough to have your pussy already throbbing. Your mouth waters. Javier wraps a hand around his length and pumps it under your lustful gaze, more precome gathers at the slit, slowly trickling down the side. Your breath hitches when you notice him smiling.

“You want a taste?”

You immediately lean down with your tongue out, sucking the tip, you clean him and push yourself further down. Your lips stretch around him deliciously.

Javier doesn’t allow you to taste him further though, with his hand on your nape, he squeezes, “If you do that I’ll come in seconds.” You look up to him between lowered lashes. “And I’d rather come somewhere else, preciosa.”

“How do you want me?” you ask, voice horse.

“On all fours.”

Again, a bit tricky because you have the constant fear your leg is going to slip and you’re going to fall, but the backseat is comfortable enough for that not to happen. His hands slide up your back and he holds you by the shoulders, bringing you close. His cock pushes between your thighs, parting your folds, your slick wets his cock, making the glide easier.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping dangerously. “Anyone could see us right now. Anyone who decides to drive by is gonna see us fucking.”

You don’t expect yourself to clench at his words but you do, a soft whimper echoing from your lips. You can’t see it, but you know he’s smiling from ear to ear. “Does that turn you on, hermosa?” When you don’t answer, he leans closer, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Don’t worry, it turns me on too.”

Pushing the tip of his cock into you, your chest begins to move with labored breaths. He buries himself to the hilt with ease. A loud moan escapes his lips as his hips are snug over your ass. Your elbows give way, your head dropping to the leather sheets. It feels too good, too full, too intense. Your body breaks in sweat, your body fluttering around and clamping desperately around his cock. His hands follow the curve of your back, laying on top of each ass cheek.

“Love this ass,” he mutters. “Are you alright? Can I move?”

“Y–Yeah,” you choke out, desperate. Javier begins to move. Slowly pulling back his hips, he slams into you, ripping a moan from your chest. The leather seats creak as he thrusts into you, his pace gradually picking up. Each time he snaps his hips forward, you feel like your world is spinning. He grips onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounds into you.

“Come on, sweetheart, push those hips back. Prove to me how good you’re feeling on my cock.”

All coherent thoughts leave your mind as you surrender yourself to the sensations. You meet his thrusts halfway, your body screaming at how deep he is. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, your hard nipples grazing against the leather, it adds to your pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the car. He leans forward, his lips brushing against your neck as he groans your name.

You can feel the tension building up inside you, your body on fire. The coil in your stomach tightens, your legs starting to quiver, you gasp his name, barely able to breathe. “Come on my cock,” he commands, licking the start of your spine. Arousal pours between your legs, slick trickling down his cock. “Show me how good you are—”

You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around him. Your breathing is caught in your throat. You roll your hips desperately, begging him to fuck you harder, god deeper—he does. He hammers into you, groaning over and over about how much of a good girl you are. His praise short circuits your brain and another orgasm washes over you, softer this time, but still powerful, enough to have you dripping over the seats.

Javier continues to thrust into you, chasing his own release. With one final deep thrust, he spills himself inside you, his body shuddering. He grinds his hips, pushing himself deeper until he’s dripping from where he stretches you. You moan his name, your lips moving against the leather.

Both of you collapse onto the seats, panting heavily as you try to catch your breath. Javier hugs you tight and pulls you up until you’re draped over his chest. You feel pleasantly lifeless, your lids heavy. He strokes your damp hair, fingers grazing over your cheek, he kisses your forehead. The gesture makes your heart swell.

“Mi preciosa, eso fue increíble, fuiste increíble.”

His words were said heavily as if he was barely keeping himself from falling asleep. You smile, burrowing yourself into his neck, you focus on the sweetness of the fleeting moment and not the come dripping out from between your legs.

“You were the one that was incredible,” you sigh happily. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good in my life.”

“Let’s just say it was a team effort then,” he grins but his smile quickly falters. “How the hell am I supposed to drive now, I need a nap.”

“We could. . .”

He sighs, “Sadly, I have work I need to get to.”

“You never did tell me what you did for a living,” you muse. “Care to share?”

His grin is back, lips curling mischievously, he looks you up and down. Your body shudders at the heat of his gaze.

“We were busy doing other things,” he quickly gives you a peck on the cheek and reaches for your dress. “I’ll tell you later.”

You pout a bit but shrug it off quickly as you take your dress. To each his own. If he wants to keep his job a secret, that’s fine. You just met him after all. And you’ll probably never see him again after you reach Medellín.

The thought sours your mood. Turns your stomach. You don’t want to think about that. You don’t want to think about the end. You always did get attached too easily.

With a sigh, you put on your dress and watch as Javier slides back to the front. You still have a couple more hours with him, you might as well make the best of it.

The ride had been a pleasant one. You’re pretty sure you talked the poor man’s ear off but he talked a bunch too, telling you about his father, his hobbies—which weren’t a lot—and his dislikes about the city. You had listened with rapt attention, eating up every last detail. But still, you had no idea what he did for a living and refused to ask, not wanting to pry.

Almost at Medellín, you notice a checkpoint ahead. Your eyes narrow for a better look and groan, these guys meant business, especially when cartels were on the rise. No matter how many times you batted your eyes, you know your bag is going to get checked along with Javier’s belongings.

“Oh no,” you mutter, prompting Javier’s eyes to shift from the highway to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“I still have a couple of joints in my bag. If they search it I’m toast. They won’t let me go back.”

You’re not sure why but he smiles, did he know the checkpoint would be here? Your heart drops and stomach lurches.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, then he winks for good measure. “Trust me, querida. You won’t get into trouble.”

You have your doubts but nod and lean back anyway. The car slows down as you approach the checkpoint, and you can feel the tension building up inside you. Javier pulls the car to a stop, and a stern-looking man walks up to Javier. The officer’s gaze lingers on you before turning to Javier.

“Documentos e identificación.”

“Hola,” he greets along with a short nod. “Soy Javier Peña, de la DEA. Estamos de paso.”

Your eyes grow wide when Javier shows his badge to the officer, your jaw nearly drops, blood rushing to your ears. You desperately have the urge to shake your head and yank the badge out of the officer’s hands to inspect it yourself. To feel it under your fingers.

The officer nods and motions to the others to let you through, “Adelante, buen viaje.”

The car starts to move again and finally—finally, you allow your jaw to drop.

“You’re DEA?” you ask, upper body rising up from your seat, your tone shrill. Javier doesn’t say anything but he does nod, eyes never leaving the road. “Oh my god,” you say. “Oh my god—why. . why didn’t you tell me? I—I smoked weed in your car! You could’ve arrested me at any given point—I. . . I—” I fucked a DEA agent.

You drop back down, defeated.

“You don’t need to worry about me arresting you,” he answers, smiling. “I would’ve if you were a threat but. . . I think we established that you aren’t.”

“A bunch of criminals fuck with agents you know,” you snap, weirdly offended. “Just because we did it doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous.”

“Do you want me to arrest you, hermosa?”

Cuffs do sound tempting but you aren’t playing that game right now, “No. . .”

“Good, we’re on the same page then,” he drums his thumbs against the steering wheel. “My intention wasn’t to trick you or anything. You already seemed miserable under the rain, waiting for that long. I didn’t want to stress you further. And you can’t really blame me for thinking like that when the second sentence you said was ‘do you want a joint’ you would’ve freaked out. Am I wrong?”

“No,” you say, clearer this time. “I still feel embarrassed though.”

“You’ll live.” Finally entering the city, he turns to you, meeting your gaze. It’s a bit ill-advised since he’s driving but you appreciate having his full attention. “Where should I drop you off?”

Oh.

“I. . actually don’t know. Do you know any good places to stay? A room I can book on short notice?”

“You don’t have a place to stay?”

“I’m a girl who was hitchhiking through a country I don’t know. Do I look like someone with a plan?”

“Fair enough,” he says, eyes turning back to the road. “Well, this is going to sound weird but you can stay with me if you want to.” Before you can answer, he adds. “I have a spare room.”

Saying yes is easier than you thought.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfic #narcos fanfic #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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celestiaras · 5 months

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ he makes for a great dog ]❜

ft. vox akuma x gn! reader — luxiem, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ vox “i ain’t a bottom” akuma actually makes for a great dog if you put a muzzle on him┊0.8k words

contains: smut!! dom(ish) reader & sub(ish) vox┊established relationship with a side of hate sex if you squint, fighting for dom, pet play (leashes, muzzles, pet names), bratting/brat-taming (?), riding to mating press, unprotected sex, slight edging/teasing, mild pain play, biting & bleeding, breeding, hair-pulling

➤ author's note: would it be too out of character to make him whimper? i started his and completely fell off, who let me write smut┊inspired by (clip) & (clip)

“fucking bitch,” he snarled, his sharp teeth bared behind the muzzle you wrestled onto him with his heavy breathing dampening the metal wires.

“aww, that’s not a nice thing to say to the one who has you on a leash, now is it?” your voice remained surprisingly steady when vox was rutting into you like the feral dog in heat you were treating him as.

“do you think that you can boss me around just because you thought it would be cute to cage my mouth up? you have another thing coming for you.”

you giggled when he choked on his words with a simple roll of your hips, tugging on the leather strip to force him to make eye contact with you, “be a good mutt for your master, okay? i’ll give you a treat if you obey me~”

“shut the hell up,” his tone dripped with venom even though he felt like he was going to lose his mind— trying to nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder but unable to kiss you, to taste you, to run his tongue over every inch of exposed skin, but he couldn’t because of this stupid muzzle.

his inability to use his mouth led to him being rougher with his hands, pressing into your skin harshly enough to leave bruises with small crescent indents being made from his black-painted nails. he was too tempted to just remove the silver cage since his hands were free, but that would be losing this stupid bet he made with you and he was far too proud to admit defeat.

all he had to do was keep it on before he could come, but it was proving to be much more difficult than he thought— especially with how good you felt like his cock was made to fill you up and how sexy you looked with the domineering bedroom eyes, there was rarely anything more fun in the bedroom than having to grapple you in order to protect his reputation of being a top. is being driven to the point of madness from lust really worth making a point out of pride? he so badly needed more stimulation that you just weren’t providing him with the sole purpose of teasing him and you were damn good at it, softly kissing him and being all innocent like you weren’t testing the limits of his patience by keeping that cage on him for as long as you possibly could.

the cold metal pressing into your skin was admittedly uncomfortable, but it was worth it to see the big bad demon reduced to such a needy mess. he was so sure that it would be a simple task that he could handle with ease, saying that he would be your pet and submit to you if he failed this bet. who would have known that he would have overestimated his own abilities against you so wildly?

“how about… how about we take this stupid thing off? it isn’t as fun when you restrain me, right?” he was getting desperate enough to try and compromise with you, trying to convince you that this silly little game wasn’t worth withholding pleasure from the both of you.

“hmm?” you tilted your head at him in mock confusion. “you aren’t having fun? i’m having the time of my life right now, seeing how cute you are as a bottom. who would have thought that all it takes for the great vox akuma to submit was a muzzle?”

something in him snapped when you said that and that was his breaking point, using his demon strength to break off the muzzle with one hand with small bits of metal flying off to the side while he flipped you on your back like you were lighter than air. his action caught you off guard when you suddenly found your legs hanging uselessly over his shoulder while he animalistically rammed into your hole like you were the last souls on earth.

you hissed in pain when you felt him sink his fangs into the flesh of your shoulder then soothing the pain by licking at the fresh wound he inflicted, the metallic taste being sweet on his tongue. you didn’t even feel the knot in your abdomen unravel until it actually happened, leaving you to see white as your lover chased his own long-awaited high while riding out yours until he painted your insides white leaving you feeling sticky and full.

vox finally stilled and panted from loss of breath at the abrupt exertion of energy, but he’d never felt so much relief from so much pent-up frustration. however, his victory was short-lived when he felt your hand snake into his raven locks and pull him off of you, making him groan in response as his eyes rolled back.

you clicked your tongue at him in disappointment even though you knew that this would happen from the very beginning, “what a bad dog you’ve been, i wonder what punishment you should get for disobeying me?”

#📜. her works #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji smut #nijisanji #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma smut #vox akuma #luxiem x reader #luxiem smut #luxiem

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dungeonpuppykai · 1 month

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Dating Joel Miller

Pairing: Bf!Joel Miller | Reader.

Warning(s): Age gap (reader is in their 20's), allusions to mature activities, mild d/s dynamics, fluff, cg!Joel, Daddy kink, begging, making out. I'll be safe and say minors do not interact.

Setting: TLOU 2.

He's definitely an experience.

Single-handedly rocks your world in more ways than one.

So, so laid-back it's fucking sexy.

Definitely tames the brat out of you.

What he says goes because he's older and knows better.

Or?

You live to learn he was right.

So smug when that happens.

Not very vocal about his feelings but cares for you so much.

The littlest of things that can easily be missed, Joel makes a point of remembering.

Won't ever openly admit it though.

Tough love in an endearing way.

From your favorite snacks to your preferred clothing, to the kinds of flowers or things you like to collect to getting you food whenever he does for himself and picking out the condiments you dislike to being mindful of the drink you prefer with it, he's got it all covered.

A total ass when it comes to training and you best believe he doesn't hold back on it. After everything that's happened, he wants you to be prepared for anything and everything.

Only rolls his eyes and shakes his head when you're being the kid that you are with Ellie and Co.

Simply snorts when you all tease him for being a geezer.

Because he knows that all it takes him is one certain look if it goes too far.

And you are whimpering into your place like a puppy yanked by their leash.

Besides, you can act all high and mighty as you want, Joel knows that the one who will have you all whiny, grabby and mushy underneath them will be him.

Whenever he wants.

You're down so bad for him, oh my God.

He knows it, and that's exactly why he doesn't get riled up when foolish little boys try their luck on you.

Well, that is, not usually.

Loves to tease you and make you beg after you've acted out all day.

"Oh, but I thought I was an old man who 'just didn't get' y'all, huh baby?" And you're a quivering, panting mess with your limbs tangled in his.

Great. Fucking. Kisser.

Hot, sloppy, wet, sense melting, passionate kisses while his calloused hands roam all over you, occasionally squeezing the parts that cause you to make such a huge mess in your pants that he tuts when he feels it through your clothes.

"Noooo, Daddy…" You're literally aching.

"Tell me what you want, baby. Say it for Daddy and he will give it to ya" you are a writhing mess as your hips grind against his and you hump yourself on one of his thighs.

"Please, Daddy… Need you so bad, Daddy… Please use me~" it depends on his mood how he treats you in bed though.

Some days he could be the most tender lover with gentle caresses, featherlight touches, cotton-soft pecks and passionate love making.

Other days include him pressing your face down into the mattress as his huge cock hammers in and out of your leaking slit, rough bites littering your skin as you struggle to breathe through the animalistic fucking.

Nothing gets you to cum harder than when he sometimes wraps his hand around your throat, features stern with all that's taking him not to just obliterate you.

Some days though, he likes to combine the two styles.

Eats you out like a starved wolf.

But can take his sweet time with that as well.

Lets out the deepest, most throaty grunts when you suck his dick.

Has a couple ways of reprimanding you if you're too clumsy and neglectful with yourself.

No one else is allowed to give you any shit though.

Isn't overbearingly domineering at all.

He knows you're young and dumb and will need to make some of your own mistakes to learn.

Always there for you with open arms to console you when you do.

Your silly little friend group definitely knows when to make themselves gone when Joel decides that he's had enough of sharing you for the day and wants you all for himself.

It's always subtle; like a gentle caress on your shoulder or a soft nudge in your side. Sometimes it can be a claiming hand on your lap. And then everyone knows that it's time to scurry out.

Doesn't always play voluntarily.

But when he does, it's for you.

Especially if there's a storm, or you're extra sensitive from playtime, or just emotional in general. Sometimes he's just feeling affectionate.

Will usually deny it like his life depends on it but there are certain songs, a specific range of lyrics and a peculiar sort of tunes that he plays only for you.

Every now and then you crawl into his lap after an intimate session and ask him to teach you how to play a song or two.

Then hours pass with you two just huddled into each other, strumming melodies to life as your naked back presses into his strong chest, your ass fitting perfectly in the crook of his abdomen as he rests his chin on your head and revels in your scent.

Sometimes he slowly cockwarms you in that position as well.

Cannot sleep without you.

He wasn't always like this.

But there's no going back now.

Joel is sure to keep tossing and turning until you're locked up close in his arms.

Your safety and well-being is his top priority.

Always.

Playing TLOU again and boy am I needy for this grizzly bear. Also I haven't watched the show but I love Pedro so yeah. Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated <3

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ly-luna · 7 months

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valeria garza headcannons

some silly head cannons of my wife

〘Sfw〙

had a emo phase when she was 12-14 and gets annoyed/embarrassed when people bring it up

Doesn't like dogs that much but had a pitbull she adored

Likes more savory/spicy foods over sweet

Has a small dumb tattoo on her torso she got when she was a dumb teen

She's a lesbian and she's known since she was 13

If anyone trys to scare her she'll just look at them with a blank stare annoyed or confused

Listens to traditional Mexican songs sometimes

She's an atheist

Her love language is acts of service and gift giving

She's serious but has a special place in her heart for her lover

Likes to cuddle but would never admit it

Not that big on PDA but like a to hold her lovers hand or wrap an arm around their waist when in public

Brings back things for her lover she thinks are neet and that they might like

Favorite color is purple

She's 5'8

Had long hair but cut it off during a identity crisis when she was a teen and has kept it short ever since

likes birds

Brings her lover cut up fruit as a way to say sorry since she has a hard time admitting she's wrong or saying sorry verbally

She m ay be a cartel leader but she takes care if herself. She has Thick, silly smooth hair that smells nice

She knows she can be a player if she wanted but she's not like that

〘NSFW〙

Rough in bed but her aftercare is nice

Not a one night stand kind of girl she likes to pamper and spoil someone

She likes to spank

"aw, is it to much for you" in a teasing tone and with a mocking pout

Has a 9 inch black strap, and a vibrator in her lovers favorite color

Very talented with her tongue and fingers

Kinks: praise, degrading, spanking, bondage, biting, edging, release denial, over stimulation, brat taming, crying, begging, worship (her), has a little of a breeding kink, and mild pet play

She will only bottom if her lover begs but is a power bottom and always ends up making her lover cum

Has a leash and collar for her lover with "valeria garza's plaything" engraved in to the fine leather

Safe word is red but it's not for her if yk what I mean

Not afraid to fuck her lover in front of her men in the cartel

Her lover has her initials engraved into their hip (with consent ofc)

Possessive when it comes to her lover

Adores seeing her lover covered in her cum

If her lover has a penis hand jobs under a table is a must for her

Has a lot of "toys"

Make-up sex is her go to but if that doesn't work she'll pamper you until you forgive her

Both ass and tits girl

#valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza #valeria mw2 #valeria garza cod #valeria garza smut #call of duty #headcanon

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diorcities · 5 months

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mdni

since it's chenle's day, let me share something that we all think but lemme elaborate more

chenle is the type of boyfriend who likes fancy things, and therefore, likes to spoil his s/o. likes them whiny, a little petty and brat; in another extend, he likes them cheerful, naive and pampered. into gentle brat taming and rough sex in equal parts. w corruption kink. he likes to follow the shading of your silhouette under the semi-sheer fabric he consciously chose. records the outline of your breasts, your thighs and your belly, then retraces the path with his tongue later that day.

he buys you summer dresses on the condition that you don't wear anything under to end up fucking you from behind while you set out to make lemon buns for his birthday.

likes your mild scents after you're done baking, boy can't hold himself and eats you in the kitchen counter. your thighs are his favorite part, holding and squeezing them while his tongue taste you until you either cum or start crying for his dick.

he likes to do it while you're wearing the pearl necklaces he buys you. likes to make out after you're done eating vanilla ice cream and likes your pretty mouth on his hard cock afterwards. into lacy things, and the small ribbons on your panties, he probably fucks you pulling the fabric to the side.

#chenle smut #chenle hard thoughts #chenle hard hours #nct dream smut #zhong chenle smut #♡chenle

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bsdbeloveds · 5 months

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BSD men nipple play headcanons pt. 1

i looove submissive men. BSD men x fem!reader

warnings: femdom, mommy kink (atsushi only), brat taming, mild masochism, bondage

atsushi, akutagawa, nikolai

atsushi- he obviously wouldn't be experienced with anything along the lines of nipple play, but he trusts his beautiful girlfriend more than anything. he would end up loving it of course.

“atsushi” you call in a playful tone. your weretiger, clad in an oversized white shirt and cute black panties turns around, giving you a nervous look. you were both lounging on your shared bed, lazily cuddling (you being the big spoon of course). your fingertips reach for his shirt collar, feeling the soft cotton. you dip your fingers underneath and glide your hands over the warm skin of his chest and neck. you feel his breath hitch “something wrong?” he asks meekly. “no,” you begin, taking your hands out of his shirt and hovering them above his chest. “i just want to try something.” he nods, his cheeks slightly reddened. your thumb slowly rubs over one of his nipples, and he lets out a breathy moan. you feel it harden underneath the thin fabric. “this okay?” “y-yeah.. please keep going” with a slight smile you begin to pinch his nipple softly and begin rolling it between your fingers. he immediately lets out a high-pitched whine “you like that?” he lets out another whine as you begin to pinch harder. “use your words baby” “yes!” he cries “yes what?” you chastise “yes m-mommy please keep touching me” you turn him over so he’s lying flat on the bed and begin to straddle him. you can feel him hot and hard beneath you. you splay your hands over his tummy and reach under his shirt. as you brush over his sensitive nipples again you feel his cock twitch in his underwear. he places his trembling hands on your waist “please mommy.. i’m so hard” he whimpers

akutagawa- he would be reluctant and bratty at first but would secretly love it, and you love nothing more than to coax the brat out of him.

He scoffed at your suggestion, crossing his arms and trying his hardest to look appalled by the idea of having his nipples played with “that’s absurd,” he barks, his brow furrowed. No matter how hard he tried to keep up the act, it still didn’t hide the pink flush of his cheeks and the tensing of his body language which indicated his arousal. you had been all too familiar with these signs. the idea turned him on, but he would never admit it. “you sure, baby?” you step closer and reach out to brush his nipple over his clothed chest, only to be met with a flustered whimper. “aww, does my little brat like having his nipples played with after all?” his gaze shifted to the floor, thoroughly embarrassed. you took initiative and pinned him onto the bed, undressing his upper half and feeling him squirm underneath you, you could feel the growing stiffness through his pants as he created more friction against you. your mouth shortly made its way to his chest, wetting and sucking on one of the hardened buds. His breathing was rapid as he moaned. Your right hand pinched and squeezed at his left nipple, making him twitch under you. “s-stop” he tries to say demandingly, but it comes out as a desperate plea. He was so pathetic like this, drooling and moaning while asking you to stop, briefly lifting your mouth from his nipple “you want me to stop?” he immediately looked at the ground, avoiding your gaze “no.. please keep going.. I’ll be a good boy” you grab his chin and force him to make eye contact. “What was that?” you felt a wet patch begin to form in his underwear as he ground his hips against you “i’ll be a good boy.. I promise!” he pleaded, begging you to keep going. you grab his cock through the fabric, while latching your mouth onto one of his nipples. What a good boy your little akutagawa is.

nikolai- would love being tied up and teased, he definitely needs to be put in his place.

“how long do you plan on having me tied up darling?” your doting boyfriend teasingly asks you. He was spread eagle, his wrists and ankles bound with cheap rope he could easily escape with his ability. “i’ll untie you when i feel like it” you retort. “you gonna be a good boy for me nikolai?” he says nothing and gives you a mischievous grin. “hmm, we’ll see how long that attitude lasts, yeah?” you sit atop of his lap, wearing nothing but a thin pair of shorts. as your clothed cunt came in contact with his bare cock he let out a hiss. he immediately bucked his hips, trying to create some sort of friction against the softness of your growing wetness. even through your shorts you could feel him hot and pulsing. you placed your hands on his hips, stifling them. “stay still for me” you command, grazing your hands along the flushed skin of his thighs. you move your hands higher, making their way to his sensitive chest, and begin to pinch his nipples with vigor. nikolai keens and begins grinding against you again. You stop your actions and grab ahold of his cock, “you know better than that don’t you?” you ask sadistically. “grind against me again and i won’t let you cum” he grimaces and nods like a good whore. “good boy, now let me play with you a little more” you smile, your mouth leaning down to lick one of his sensitive buds.

#bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #atsushi x reader #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa x you #atsushi x you #bsd x female reader #atsushi smut #nikolai gogol smut #akutagawa smut #x female reader

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magicalbats · 6 months

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Flesh-Devouring Part 2

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 20,217

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, thigh grinding, mutual masturbation, belt spanking, some very mild violence (reader is mostly a helpless bystander nvxcnvde), a pinch of angst for spice

A/N: okay, I promise I’ll work on the next kinktober prompt now 🙈 and also we're just gonna' pretend Wriothesley has an actual belt somewhere on his person, I eyeballed the hell out of his official art and started to doubt myself buuuuuut I was already fully committed to the bit so dvdknvgkdngg

⭐

“Good morning, your grace!”

Looking up from the sheaf of papers in his hand, Wriothesley swivels his head around to watch you disembark from the elevator with a noticeably eager skip in your step. He quirks a brow at it and fully turns to greet you at your approach. “Good morning, little miss. You certainly seem to be in a good mood today.”

You can’t quite keep the smile off your face as you come to a stop in front of him, practically vibrating in your excitement. “Of course I am! Todays the day I finally get to meet with some of the inmates and get started on our new program, what else would I be?”

He smiles at that. “While your enthusiasm is quite commendable, I must remind you not to get your hopes up too much. The group that volunteered for this is a — mixed crowd, so to speak. I’m not exactly sure what sort of reaction you’re going to get.”

Drawing a stilted breath, you square your shoulders and give him a brief nod of understanding. You knew he was just being practical and realistic as always, but you felt good about this. Optimistic. You were positive your efforts would soon pay off in a very real, very tangible way, and at last justify all the grief you’d suffered at his hands just to get here. For weeks now you’d been meeting with him, discussing, planning, organizing and fine tuning a plan of implementation, all while wrestling with your own self control where the duke was concerned. There wasn’t any use denying that you liked kissing him a great deal. In fact, it seemed to be your new favorite activity, amongst other, less wholesome things …

Even now you could feel the urge to go up on your tiptoes so you could tug him down to your level threatening to overpower your common sense, but there were much more important matters at hand. You’d told yourself this over and over again, repeating it like a mantra to steel your resolve and keep your mind focused on matters of business instead of giving in, and it was going to pay off. Today. Here and now. You could feel it.

“I understand, your grace. I will make sure to keep my expectations appropriately tempered.”

Wriothesley looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe that, but he relents without further pressing you on it. His boots sound impossibly heavy on the steel plated flooring as he half turns, motioning you ahead. “Let’s be off then. Did you bring everything you need?”

“Yes, your grace.” Clutching your worn leather carry case in hand, you fall into step beside him as he leads you down the long winding corridor.

The Fortress of Meropide is somehow both stuffy and chilly at the same, the air thick but infused with the cool temperature bleeding in off the water that surrounds it. You’d learned your lesson the first time you came here (in more ways than one) and had opted for a light jumper over your blouse to stave off the ever present note of cold which you could take off if you got too warm. That seemed like a not far off possibility when you were internally quaking with nerves, both eager and anxious, but for now at least you just keep your attention on him while he gives you a brief rundown of who was supposedly going to show up for this little meeting he’d arranged for you.

Sixteen inmates had signed up. Not even half of that number were finished with their sentences, the vast majority still actively serving time, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed about that. You’d of course hoped to give those who had made the conscious decision to stay at Meropide a chance to reconsider integrating back into overworld society but you try to remind yourself that this was only the first preliminary phase of a much greater project. If things went well today, there would be plenty of time to work with the others.

“Ah, and before I forget.” He says, sending you a meaningful look. “Someone by the name of George should be in attendance, if he bothers to show up. He’s a little rough around the edges but don’t let what he says get under your skin. He’s had his sentence extended twice now and as I’m sure you can imagine he’s a bit grumpy about that.”

“Understood.” You give the clutch of your bag a fierce squeeze. “May I ask why?”

Wriothesley thinks that over for a beat. “The first time was due to excessive fighting outside of the regulated channels. We have a three strikes policy here, as I’ve mentioned before. I suspect he was trying to assert himself as the top dog in his block but he ran into a bit more opposition than he was expecting, so he had to start using his fists instead.”

“And the other?”

“He tried to take one of the sponsor representatives hostage and use her as a bargaining chip.”

Your eyes go big. “Oh.”

Smiling one of those rare but incredibly flattering genuine smiles, he reaches out to lightly nudge your elbow. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole time to keep everything under control and make sure nobody gets out of hand but the ball will be in your court, little miss. I’m just your guard dog today.”

You hate the way fluster slowly creeps up your neck but you valiantly stamp it back down as you shyly avert your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you, your grace. I … I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“I know you do. But don’t thank me just yet. Wait until after we see what kind of response you get.”

That gentle warning niggles at the back of your mind like the tickling whisper of sharp claws brushing your skin, and your stomach gives a little flip. You were nervous to meet with them face to face despite being excited to get started. Working in the public affairs office and spending most of your time at a desk didn’t exactly prepare you for hands-on encounters such as this, but between your unfaltering conviction and Wriothesley’s ever present cool demeanor at your side you keep your head held high.

Up a short flight of metal steps and down another steel plated hall, you find yourself stepping into a small room that, based on the rickety old tables tightly packed into the cramped space, looked like it was perhaps largely used as a card room. You can’t help but feel a dull rush of relief at finding it yet unoccupied by anyone. Unable to fight the urge any longer, you reach out to snag Wriothesley’s sleeve and he sedately turns to look down at you.

Shuffling closer until you were practically pressed right up against him, you offer him an imploring look as you go up on your toes. “Your grace …?”

Something distantly sparks in his eyes and, humming softly, he carefully bends down to press his mouth to yours in an altogether chaste kiss. But even for as innocent as it is — not nearly as heated as some of the kisses you’d exchanged with him in recent memory — it still inspires a flood of warmth in you that races down your body. Sighing softly, you lean further into him and give yourself over to the stilted, hard press of his lips on yours.

It lasts for only a brief moment though, and your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks when he pulls back just enough to speak. “Don’t be scared.” He tells you quietly, so gently it makes your heart wrench.

“I’m not scared, just … nervous, is all. I think.”

Humming quietly, he gives you another quick, lingering kiss that makes your bottom lip warble against your will. “You’ll do great. I know you will, but even if you should happen to fall I’ll be right there to catch you. Just like always, right?”

Your face was quickly starting to become unbearably hot. Oh, how you wanted him so badly, even if he was the most confounding, frustrating man you’d ever met. “Will — will you have me later? When we’re done …?”

Wriothesley goes still, just looking at you for a drawn out moment, but you’re a little too embarrassed to be saying something so shameful out loud to meet his gaze anymore. Flutteringly, your hand comes up to anxiously tug at the fur collar of his coat under the guise of straightening it for him, even though you really wanted to use it to tug him in against you.

Finally, at length, he draws a carefully tempered breath. “How do you want me to have you, little miss?”

The violent shudder that abruptly tears through you almost has you going cross eyed. “I - I’m not sure, I just … I feel like such a mess inside and everything is confusing, and I don’t know what it is exactly but I want you to — to - -“

“Oh, sweet girl,” He exhales slowly, and you jolt when one of his hands finds your hip. Giving it a tight, possessive squeeze to make you tremble, he drags that oppressive palm further back and around to grab a pinching handful of your ass. “Do you need me to ground you in place? Is that what you’re asking me for? Huh?”

You sway unsteadily, feeling terribly faint when it seemed as if you were being smothered under his weighty presence. The heavy, rough calloused hand gripping your backside through the seat of your pants, the body heat bleeding off of him in waves to settle into you; the smell of him swarming your senses to settle on the back of your tongue and leave the masculine taste you’d come to recognize solely as the duke’s cloying in your throat. It was all too much.

Much, much too much.

Whimpering softly, you force your attention up to look in his face, still hovering mere millimeters from yours even when doing so proves to be quite the struggle. “Yes.” It’s little more than a faint whisper. “I want … I need you to reorient me. It feels like I’m — lost out at sea. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

With a barely audible, rumbling growl, Wriothesley closes his fingers around the meat of your ass hard enough to make your breath hitch in your chest. “You need your head cleared so you can focus all that energy you have where it belongs. I’ll give you that outlet, as much as you require it. I have no problem giving you a guiding hand, little miss. You know that.”

Your mouth warbles in a jittery smile, unable to keep it at a bay even when you try very hard to stop it from spreading across your face. You didn’t fully understand it yourself, what you were asking for or what you needed. All you’d seemed to grasp over the short time you’d known him was that Wriothesley made you feel good. Almost inexplicably so. Even when he was being infuriating and condescending towards you, even when he’d give your poor bottom a handful of stinging swats at the first sign of attitude to remind you to behave yourself, it still didn’t detract from this flutter low in your gut. There was something deeply gratifying about being with him like this, in this particular dynamic, and for as little as you know what to make of any of it, he seems to know exactly what it is you instinctively crave from him. Why you keep seeking him out this way.

The sapphires in his eyes shutter with what you’re starting to recognize as desire in his otherwise implacable facade and he leans in again, issuing an anticipatory breath into the scant space separating you. His mouth finds yours, as sure as any compass points north, drawing a threadbare moan from the depths of your shuddering gut. You lean into him, lips carefully parting to kiss him back, and — the shuffling sound of heavy approaching footsteps echoing off the metal walls has you wrenching back from him so fast your head spins.

Eyes going impossibly wide, you quickly slap him away in your fluster and rush to extricate yourself from his person. Chuckling softly, as if he wasn’t at all concerned about being caught in such a compromising situation, Wriothesley lets you go, but not without a playful swat to your ass when you move to brush past him. You yelp at the mild sting but keep your attention ahead as you hurry over to deposit your bag on one of the tables so you can dig in it and give your racing heart a chance to calm down. Even now you somehow manage to be surprised at how utterly unapologetic he was about everything!

Forcing your lungs to expand on a deep, steadying breath, you listen to the approaching shuffle behind you until an unmistakable shift of occupancy in the cramped room indicated that you were no longer alone with the duke. You keep your head down just a moment longer, both to ensure you had your expression under control and to also listen to the way Wriothesley amicably greets the inmates. You’d never gotten to see him interact with them before and, rather than coming off like the strict, hardass warden you’d had a first impression of, he almost seems to talk to them like they were … friends? Or at least on friendly terms with each other.

Could it really be that you were the only one unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you looked at it) enough to bring out that side of him? But why would that be …?

Slowly, more people start to drift in and you have to make a concerted effort to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind so you can stay focused on what really matters. You take your time neatly organizing your stacks of papers, the forms you’d carefully composed on the typewriter in the affairs office, and make a concerted effort to greet everyone with a smile when they move away from the duke to find their seats. Some of them are rather friendly when they respond, but others simply look at you without a single word and not so much as a backwards glance. No matter, though. You didn’t exactly come here to make friends.

All in all, only seven inmates show up. A pair of shady looking brothers, one woman and the rest are men who just disinterestedly eye you up and down with varying levels of annoyance reflecting in their eyes. You can’t quite shake the feeling that they’d expected someone a bit more impressive than the slight, eager-faced woman wearing a jumper and slacks standing before them now, and it probably didn’t help that you looked downright diminutive standing next to Wriothesley either. Oh, well. You were just going to have to try and make the best of it.

“Hello, everyone,” You chirp, a little higher in pitch than you’d intended thanks to your jittery nerves. “It looks like we won’t be getting anyone else today, so let’s get started. I’m very excited to be working with all of you.”

Resounding, echoing silence and a wall of blank stares.

You waver slightly, but recover admirably. “I’m from the office of public affairs, and recently I’ve been working with his grace here to come up with programs for the prison that can help or otherwise enrich the lives of the inmates here. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to come see me, and I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to speak freely. This preliminary meeting is first and foremost going to function as a feeler so we can get an idea of what sort of activities you'd like to see offered at the prison in the future.”

More silence. More staring.

You can feel your face starting to grow warm even though you’ve also broken out into a cold sweat, and you flounder for something else to say. Far be it that you’d expected them to jump for joy and lift you in the air over their heads in celebration or anything as preposterous as that, but you had anticipated at least some kind of response. What were you supposed to do when they wouldn’t even speak so much as a single word to you? It’s not like you could get anything of worth out of this if you were the only one talking.

Suddenly, Wriothesley shifts beside you and the soft creak of his boots makes your pulse nervously jump. “I expect all of you to show our guest some respect today. I'm not sure why you would sign up for this if you had no intention of participating, so let’s get it in gear. If you have something to say, now is your chance to say it.”

The brothers sitting nearest to you bend their heads close and exchange a quick, muffled conversation between themselves, but you’re a little too rattled by the tone of Wriothesley’s voice to make out what they’re saying. Ah, so it wasn’t just you then. Good to know.

“What sort of activities are we talking here?” One of the men in the rear suddenly speaks up, snapping your attention back into the present.

“O - oh, yes. We were thinking things like trade skills and daily lifestyle necessities that could give you a better sense of independence while you’re here. Things like sewing or cooking, or - -“

“Why would we need any of that?” The only other woman in the room chimes in. “Meropide works just fine as is and the system already in place provides us with all of that.”

“Well, yes, but - -“

“Yeah, what do I need to know sewing for when I could just as easily pass it off to someone who already knows how to do it?” One of the brothers, the larger and seemingly more cantankerous of the two, adds on, making you pull your mouth into a firm line.

“That’s exactly why.” You assert in an equally firm voice. “The prison’s internal functionality works like a well oiled machine, doesn’t it? Why want for anything else when everything is already right where it needs to be. Just like cogs, everyone fits into their role and they fit it well. You all keep Meropide running as it should, there’s no doubt about that. But each and every one of you has a life beyond the role you take on here. You aren’t just cogs, and you aren’t just part of the greater machine. I want to give you a chance to be independent of that clockwork, even if it’s only for an hour or two each day, and remind you that there’s still something beyond these tin walls.”

You draw a steadying breath, carefully taking in the faces sitting before you. It looked like a few of them were starting to come around, or were at least curious enough to actually hear you out now, and that bolsters your courage by some margin. You could do this. You would.

“I know how easy it is to get comfortable with the lifestyle here. His grace has taken the time to explain to me in great detail the ins and outs of the prison, how everyone lives on a schedule, what freedoms you’re allotted and what has restricted access. I’m aware that there is a great deal of self governing here in the fortress, which is precisely why I want to give you all an opportunity to deviate from that routine. It might be fun, right? Having a little bit of your old life back?”

A few looks are exchanged between some of the inmates, a soft murmur rising up, and your heartbeat starts to quicken. Next to you, Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh before moving back to lean against the wall, leaving you feeling strangely alone and exposed standing there by yourself. You shoot him a quick, harried glance over your shoulder but he just crosses his arms over his chest and nudges his chin at the small congregation. When you turn back around, you’re more than a little surprised to find the other woman leaning towards you in obvious interest.

“I always wanted to be a seamstress some day.” She abruptly announces, startling you slightly. “My mother taught me when I was younger, but I never got a chance to really hone the skill. Is that really something you could arrange?”

You swallow your nerves, hearing Wriothesley’s reminder not to get your hopes up in the back of your mind, but it was so hard not to when she was looking at you like that. You wanted to help her. More than anything else, you just wanted to give them something more to live for.

“I believe we can. His grace and I have already reached out to a few businesses, and a few of them have expressed willingness to volunteer their services to the prison. I’m sure if everything goes well and word of mouth starts to spread, we could convince others to do the same as well.”

“I did always want to be a chef.” The larger brother admits somewhat sheepishly, and you smile. You couldn’t help it.

This was really working.

It doesn’t take long to have a full dialogue going after that. Even with the one or two stragglers still wary and uncertain about introducing any real changes to the system the overall reception seems to be resoundingly positive. You talk with them, discussing what they’d like to do, what they’d like to potentially see implemented, and through it all Wriothesley just hangs back against the wall, watching over everything like a silent sentry just at your back. He even stays true to his word and lets you be in charge even when tempers seem to flare up in disagreement every so often instead of snatching the reins from you at the first sign of trouble. All it takes is a sharp look from him or a low word of warning, and everyone grudgingly settles back down, which was not something you’d expected to relate so much with them about but you do. It almost feels like a strange sense of solidarity in a way, and you were immensely glad to have him on your side like this.

Everything goes so well, in fact, that by the time a real problem raises its head, you almost overlook it completely. The man in the far back corner hadn’t said much at all over the course of the last hour and some change, but you’d felt his burning gaze on you the whole time. He appeared to be the most opposed to the program you’d presented to the group, but you hadn’t been able to squeeze the reason out of him yet which is why you eventually defer to your hand typed forms. You’d thought it would be a good idea to have them put their thoughts down in writing in case they felt too shy to say it out loud, and you hoped your careful planning would pay off in this.

You’re in the process of handing out the papers to everyone along with the pencils you’d brought along, slowly making your way over to him last, and he tips his head back as if in challenge at your approach. You had a sneaking suspicion who he was, of course, but you still offer him a cheerful smile as you move closer.

“I know you haven’t said much today, but I hope you’ll share any thoughts you have on the form. It’s really helpful to have different perspectives on things like this.” You tell him, holding out the sheet.

“Can’t write.” He rumbles, making your hand falter.

“Oh.” You hadn’t even considered that being a possibility. “I - I’m sorry. Maybe we could see about starting up classes so you can - -“

“Don’t want em’”

You blink at him owlishly, trying to make sense of his surly attitude, but Wriothesley calls over from the other side of the room before you can think of something to say. “Watch yourself, George. I’m not going to give you another warning.”

Ah. So your suspicions were correct.

You start to pull back, decidedly unnerved by the way he clearly wants nothing at all to do with you, but then you see the look that flashes across his eyes. Like a street hardened dog that was ready to bite in retaliation. You almost hate yourself for it, but your heart irreparably softens and you turn your head to send Wriothesley a reassuring look. “It’s alright, your grace. I don’t mind.”

He begins to open his mouth to say something but you whip your head back around, speaking before he can further insert himself into the conversation.

“Please don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know not all of us have been given the same kind of opportunities in life. Where are you from, George?”

The grizzled man sends you a slow look, the muscles in his jaw working with what you think is probably irritation, but you refuse to back down or give up on him. He was still a person deserving of respect and dignity no matter how much he might hate you.

“Fleuve Cendre.” He says at length, and you feel a distant twang of understanding in the back of your mind. The underground sewer systems in the Court of Fontaine were not always the best place to grow up so it made sense, in a way.

“I see. Well, if you’re at all interested I can make every effort to arrange for someone to come teach you how to write, or maybe I could even do it myself. Does that sound like a good idea?”

He suddenly leans forward in his chair, getting right in your face, and it takes everything you have not to go scuttling back though you do give a startled jerk in surprise. “Not a chance! I don’t want your stinking charity, lady!” He practically spits at you, vitriolic and full of malice.

“Charity?” You incredulously echo him, but he reaches out to viciously grab your wrist before you can think of anything else to say.

“That’s right! You think I need you looking down on me or something? How about I tell you exactly where you can shove it instead!”

You open your mouth to say — what, you don’t know, but a shift of motion in your peripheral stops you in your tracks. Snapping your head up, you’re not the least bit surprised to find Wriothesley quickly closing the distance with long, purposeful strides, but it still horrifies you and your heart promptly jackhammers straight up into your throat.

“Wait!” You shriek, holding your uncaptured arm out as if to stop him. Like you even could. He’s like a solid wall moving towards you and you could already see how this was going to play out, your eyes going round as saucers seconds before a violent wrench on your arm takes you right off your feet.

In a sudden rush of movement that you can’t even begin to process or comprehend, you abruptly find yourself pinned to the front of George who’s shot up out of his seat. Wriothesley comes to an immediate halt, just short of being within arms reach, and you stare up at him in unseeing disbelief as George shuffles back to press himself into the corner, using you like a shield. You’re distantly aware of an eruption of chaos in the rest of the room, likely a result of everyone rushing to get out of the way, chairs loudly scraping and clattering against the floor, but you feel strangely numb to it all.

The only thing you can manage to think at that moment is that you were going to be in so much trouble once everything was said and done.

“Don’t touch me, you bastard aristocrat!”

“Wha — h - hold on a minute!” You squawk, feet kicking uselessly at the floor in a blind attempt to find some traction. It’s no use though, and your shoes just slip and slide against the papers you’d dropped in the shuffle.

“I thought we already went over this, George. You know taking hostages isn’t going to get you anywhere except straight into solitary.” Wriothesley intones, and the surprisingly calm, leveled quality of his voice surprises you slightly, prompting you to bring your head back up. But the look you find in his face, the icy heat curling in his eyes, is anything but tranquil, and your stomach twists in dread.

You’d never seen him look like that before … like he could really kill someone.

“I don’t want to hear it!” George snaps, nervously clutching you against him — as if you were going to stop anything! “I’ve had enough of this place, and I’ve had enough of all of you! Always looking down on me like I’m less than dirt!”

“No one is looking down on you.” Wriothesley says, clearly trying to reason with him. “Just calm down and let her go. I know you’re having a hard time adjusting, and I’m sure having your sentence extended didn’t help with that, but this is only going to make things worse for you in the long run. You can’t bargain your way out of this.”

“Maybe so, but I could kill her!”

“You what!” You shriek, nails sinking into the arm pinned across your front, but they both summarily ignore you.

“That’d show you not to mess with me!” George continues on. “I’m serious, you know! I’ll do it!”

“And why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” Wriothesley shoots right back. “If you’re hoping to spend the rest of your life in Meropide you don’t have to do this to accomplish that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“Dammit, I want out of here! I can’t stand this place! No sun, no fresh air, no sky! It feels like I’m going crazy down here!”

“Then let her go. You still have a chance to return to the surface someday and you’ll get to see the sky as much as you want then, but that’s not going to happen if you keep this up. If you extend your sentence much further, you’re just going to seal your own fate. Permanently.”

That actually seems to give him pause, and you hold your breath in anticipation of the pin dropping even when your chest strains and aches in protest. You almost didn’t dare to hope that he would actually listen to reason when you were viscerally aware of all the impotent rage and unrealized frustration coursing through his body, making him shake against you. It didn’t appear to be a bluff, at least not where you were standing. You think he really could kill you if pushed far enough, but … slowly, his hold on you eventually starts to relax.

“I don’t want to be trapped under the ocean for the rest of my life …” He murmurs, a brief glimpse of cognizance returning to him after that manic flash.

“Then hand the young lady over to me and let’s be done with it. I think this has gone on long enough, George.”

Carefully reaching out for you, Wriothesley takes a step forward. His ability to stay cool and collected even in a situation like this surprises you a great deal, of course, but you find some amount of comfort in his unflappable demeanor. It helps you stay calm, in as much as you’re able to at least, and a dull wave of relief washes over you when George reluctantly pushes you away from himself, shoving you straight into Wriothesley’s waiting arm.

You almost don’t believe it as his hand grabs around your waist and tightly gathers you up against him, angling you further from the inmate. It felt like you were dreaming. Numb to everything that had happened over the last few inexplicably short moments, you turn in his hold just in time to watch Wriothesley snag George’s wrist before he can pull it back all the way.

And just like that, he snaps the bone with one solid twist.

The sickening crack! that rings out makes your stomach lurch up into your throat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Slamming Wriothesley’s office door open hard enough to make it bang against the interior wall, you storm inside so mad you could just scream!

He comes in behind you at a leisurely pace just a moment later, taking his time to close and lock it, but you’re a little too caught up in the absolutely blinding surge of anger you’re trying to wrestle with to question it. Seething viciously, you start to pace the perimeter of the room. It’s all you can think to do. You wanted to scream at him, kick him, slap him, spit at him! What was wrong with this man that he would ever think that kind of violence was okay?

“Are you alright?” He eventually asks you, just standing there in the doorway watching you stomp around his office as if it were a perfectly normal sight to see. That evenly tempered, almost blase tone of his voice just makes you see red though, and you finally round on him with a wordless shriek.

“Why did you do that to him?”

“He was dangerous.” Wriothesley says it like it should have been obvious. “I think he made that quite clear, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter! He’d already let me go, you didn’t need to hurt him like that! It was just excessive at that point, you damn brute!”

“That doesn’t mean he couldn't still hurt you. You’re not stupid, little miss. I know you’re aware of just how differently that could have played out if he hadn’t listened to me, and I wasn’t about to risk him changing his mind and having the means to lash out. You’re acting like I killed the poor guy.”

You couldn’t seem to process his logic and, with no other choice, you return to your fitful pacing. “I don’t understand you. It doesn’t even make any sense. You say you care about your inmates but then you turn around and do something like that?”

“I care about you too.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn to look back at him again. The chill that creeps over you is suffocating, threatening to choke you up on the spot. “No. Do not do that. Not right now!”

“But it’s true.”

“I don’t care if it’s true!” You shout, impulsively closing the distance so you can jab your finger into the center of his chest. “You broke that man’s wrist, your grace! That was uncalled for! If you cared about him, or the others, or me you wouldn’t have done something so — so unnecessarily violent! He was just … he was just scared, is all. I think.”

Wriothesley reaches up to carefully take your hand off him and you flinch at the contact but still let him do it because … because you don’t know why. You’re well aware you should be yanking out of his hold like he’d scalded you, skin crawling at just the touch of those rough worn fingers, but you can’t quite bring yourself to do that right now. Not when it felt like you were moments away from shattering to pieces right there in his office.

“You think?”

“I don’t know. Not really, but … he could have hurt me if he wanted to, right? But he didn’t. He only used me like a shield because you were coming, and he panicked. I can’t really blame him for that. I’d be scared too.”

“I bet.” He murmurs, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the backs of your loosely curled knuckles. Grimacing at the gesture, unable to reconcile it in your mind — this soft version of the duke and the brutal prison warden — and you quickly look away. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy with how I handled the situation. I probably did frighten you, and you have my sincerest apologies for that as well, little miss. But you have to understand that I was protecting you.”

“I didn’t ask to be protected!” You seethe. “Least of all like that!”

“Be that as it may, I still did what needed to be done. I already told you once, didn’t I? I’m your guard dog. You were in danger and I acted accordingly. It’s not fair of you to be so upset with me when I was only doing my job.”

“But there must have been another way - -“

“There wasn’t. Believing any different is just naive and childish. You need to let go of this little fantasy you have that everything can be solved peacefully if you’re just nice enough. That’s not how the real world works.”

You jerk your attention up with a low snarl, but he just looks at you with the same unreadable expression as always. He wasn’t the least bit sorry, nor did he feel any real regret for what he’d done. Not only that but he would have done it again without a second's hesitation. You could see it in his face, clear as day. He may as well have been saying it out loud for as little he tries to hide it.

“It doesn’t work with violence either.” You finally rattle out, shaking in his hold.

“I’d say my methods are a bit more effective than yours. You’re safe, aren’t you? If anything, you should be thanking me.”

Your pulse spikes as you wrench your hand free and slap him as hard as you can, popping him right across the mouth. Wriothesley doesn’t even flinch and that just makes you angrier. Going up on the tips of your toes to get as close to him as you’re able to, you hiss at him with every bit of vitriol you can muster. “Is that thanks enough for you, your grace?”

Terse silence descends over the room, interspersed only by your heavy breathing. At length, he finally draws a short, clipped breath.

“I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only to apologize for doing that. I do hope you make the right decision.”

Veins turning icy, you bring your hands up to shove at his chest and push yourself away. “You wouldn’t dare. Not right now. Not when I’m so mad at you I could just - -“

He’s on you in an instant.

For someone so big he certainly moves quick, and you barely have enough time to suck in a ragged, gasping breath of air as he roughly grabs under your arms and hauls you right up off your feet. The sudden rush of movement makes you nauseous, your stomach flipping end over end. Throwing your head back, you suck in a mouthful of air to scream.

Wriothesley abruptly drops you back down to the floor before you can follow through and the sudden impact makes sharp, splintering pain race up your legs. That split second hesitation on your part is all he needs to get a hand over your mouth and your eyes go big in wild terror as he all but drags you by the back of your jumper towards the chaise lounge against the far wall. You wrench against his hold like a trapped animal, desperate and mindless as you shriek behind his palm, but the sound comes out muffled. Distant. There’s nothing at all you can do to stop it as he pulls you over and plops down on the cushions before yanking you down to kneel between his feet.

You wince at the way your knees slam against the unforgiving ground but you don’t get a chance to fully process the hurt. He bends over you and reaches back to grab the back of your pants, using them to yank you up and brace you over his thigh. His hand stays locked around your mouth though, making it hard to breathe when you were sucking in quick, panicked gasps, one right after another as you frantically try to shove at him.

His hand abruptly cracks across your ass with enough force to leave you seeing stars, and you wordlessly shriek into his palm. Winded and lurching, you instinctively try to angle away from him but the way he’s got you trapped between his legs makes it impossible to get very far. He hits you again, right on the mark, and hot tears immediately rush up to flood your eyes. Wailing in pain and impotent frustration now, you blindly reach up to shove at his arm.

Wriothesley’s fingers just tighten around the lower half of your face though, securing his hold on you, while the other hand continues to rain down on your bottom in quick, blistering succession. Even through your pants it makes your toes curl achingly tight as you writhe there on the floor, rocking against his leg with each punishing blow.

You couldn’t believe him, doing this to you in a situation like this! It was one thing when you were being bratty or stubborn, or hardheaded, and you’d even come to rather enjoy those intimate sessions with him in which he’d gradually break you down piece by piece before building you back up into a whole, complete person again. It was strangely relaxing, comforting even. Therapeutic. But this was something else entirely. You were mad for a good reason. You’d hit him for a good reason! It wasn’t fair that he could spank your ass red and raw, but you couldn’t even slap him once without incurring his wrath.

So caught up in the tumultuous surge of emotions assaulting you all at once, you almost don’t realize when the tears start tracking down your face. They burn against your heated skin and pool in the seam where his hand is sealed over your face from the nose down, gathering there before eventually dribbling over his blunt knuckles. He has to feel it, has to know you’re crying, practically sobbing, but still he doesn’t stop. He just keeps spanking you, again and again, again, until the throbbing pain scorching across your defenseless backside seems to reach incomprehensible levels that have you struggling just to think through it.

And you try to, desperate to cling to your anger and your fear, the betrayal you’d felt when he broke that poor man’s wrist right in front of your very eyes with hardly any effort at all to show for it. You hadn’t thought him capable. Even now when he was lighting your ass up it seemed like an entirely inconceivable notion for him to be capable of that level of cruelty. But it’s next to impossible to hold onto any of those thoughts or feelings when you were so swept up in the pulsing thrum of hurt he’s inflicting on you and slowly, ever so slowly, your mind starts to go blank.

Evidently feeling you go lax against his knee in acceptance, Wriothesley’s voice starts to drift over you and it seamlessly penetrates the fog hanging over your head to dig straight into your brain. “I’m not sure who you think you are,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “But I have to say,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “I’m actually rather impressed you had the guts to do that,” whap, whap, whap, whap “I suppose that’s why I like you so much though,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “You're so damn bullheaded you just don’t know when to quit.”

Groaning deliriously into the meat of his hand, you mechanically bring your hand down to clutch his pant leg in a death grip while the other blindly stretches back as if to protect yourself from his strikes. He pauses above you as your trembling fingers creep across your bottom, drawing a clipped, mildly annoyed breath.

“Move your hand.”

You wail something that might have been a ‘no!’, incomprehensibly muffled, and he clicks his tongue at the petulance.

“Don’t test my patience with you any further, little girl. You have no idea just how much I can really make it hurt if you want to be cute.”

Noising a sound of surprised confusion, you hastily retract your hand in favor of shoving it up against his stomach and pushing at him with renewed determination, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Leaning forward, he reaches down the front of your body to fumble with the buttons on your pants. You squeal a muffled protest and try to angle away again to no avail. It takes him a prolonged moment to get them with the use of only one hand, but eventually he has your slacks undone and he starts to roughly shove them down your quaking thighs.

“You know,” He says almost conversationally, as calm as ever while your internal panic was just ratcheting higher and higher. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, so let me explain something to you. There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about things, and somehow you always seem to consistently pick the wrong choice. I don’t mind so much that you’re upset with me. I still don’t think that was very fair of you, but you’re entitled to your own opinion. I’m certainly not trying to take that away from you.”

He’s finally got your pants bunched around your knees but, rather than spanking you over your panties next, he instead starts to yank those down too. A violent shudder tears through you at the implication, the suggestion, your blood running so hot for him it has you swaying there on the floor even as you give your head a weak shake. If he was skipping the usual buildup then he must have been rather upset with you indeed.

“But as always you get too carried away. You won’t stop until you push me enough to end up over my knee, getting your butt spanked like a child.” He swats your bare ass for emphasis, making you shriek and sob at the pulsing sting as much as the resulting jiggle it causes. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Huh?”

You nod your head frantically, noising behind his hand, and Wriothesley gives your face a dull squeeze of warning.

“I’m going to take my hand away but I promise if you scream you’re going to find yourself getting hit with something much worse than a hairbrush, do you understand me?”

Another nod, even more wild than the last.

Slowly, his fingers loosen and then tentatively fall away, leaving you to gasp wretchedly at the flood of fresh air. You slump against him and try to catch your breath, wet little hiccups making your back bow. “I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — shouldn’t have hit you!”

“I’d say that’s an understatement.”

Forcibly pulling yourself up even though it hurts to do so, you twist on your knees to peer up at him. Your lower lip promptly wobbles when you see the hard way he’s looking at you but you just sniffle and reach up to wipe at your tear stained face. “You made me so mad! And you never take me seriously! I tell you something and it seems like you always just brush me off!”

Wriothesley watches you shake and heave for a drawn out moment before sedately slouching down, elbows shifting forward to brace against his knees so he can lean over you. The gesture makes you feel so incredibly small and insignificant, a borderline hysterical sob bursting out of your mouth which you quickly cover with your hand. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm down, but he just hovers over you like that in complete and utter silence until the shudders wracking through you get too uncontrollable and you start to sway dizzily on the floor.

His nearest hand finds your back and smooths over it in comforting circles, wrinkling your jumper in the process. Sucking in a thin, gasping breath, you instinctively rock forward as if to heave but all you do is cough like some sad, pathetic broken little thing.

“Calm down,” He murmurs, giving your trembling shoulders a firm pat. “You’re going to make yourself sick carrying on like that. Will you listen to me?”

Sniveling, you blink through the thick sheen of tears making your vision swim and nod your head with a faint whimper. His hand stills on your back, keeping you in place as he leans further down to your level and tips his head so he can see your face.

“I wasn’t brushing you off. I understand why that upset you and I’m nothing if not sympathetic. Really, I am. If you want the honest truth of it, I regretted it almost as soon as I did it. I’ll have to apologize to George later and have a real long talk with him about what happened, but I’m not going to apologize for protecting you. You’re under my charge regardless of if we’re in the city or your house, but especially when you’re here. If something happened to you on my watch, that would be a resounding failure on my part. Can you understand that much, at least?”

You hesitate and then nod your head again, not quite trusting yourself enough to speak yet. Wriothesley gives you an approving squeeze and another idle pat that makes you whimper softly. His hand was so big it felt like it was taking up almost the whole of your back …

“I didn’t mean to scare you … you know that, right?”

“Y - yes …”

“Good. Because that I will apologize for. It was unnecessary. I should have completely removed you from the situation first before acting but he just had me so mad, I wasn’t thinking straight, and … honestly, I probably owe you an apology for that too I had some reservations about letting him come to the meeting of course, given his track record, but I thought maybe it would help him adjust a little better if he had something from the overworld to keep him busy. Preoccupied.”

Gingerly, you shift on your knees so you’re knelt directly under him rather than braced up against his leg, and you lift your hands to hesitantly slide them across his strong jawline. Wriothesley let’s you do it, much to your thrumming relief, and you carefully tip his face towards you until just a scant breath separates his nose from yours.

“What’s going to happen to him now?”

He just looks at you, and your face slowly starts to crumple.

“Please don’t let him get into trouble.” You plead, unable to bear the thought of his sentence being extended because of you. “It was just a mistake and I wasn’t hurt. He didn’t do anything wrong, your grace! Not really. Please, please don’t punish him.”

Stiffly, he sighs out through his nose. “And there you go being naive again. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to protect him at this point. He’s sealed his own fate.”

“But that’s … that’s terrible! If I hadn’t been there — if you hadn’t let me come here that never would have even happened! I’m the one at fault here, aren’t I? I’ll take the punishment in his stead! That would be fine, right?”

“Lovely girl - -“

Wriothesley reaches out with his other hand to cup your face and you try to pull away, a fresh wave of tears springing up in your eyes, but he holds you fast. Tipping his head, he seals his mouth over yours and swallows down the muffled wail you let out. Even when the rolling beads of moisture start to track down your damp face, he just kisses you and kisses you until you finally start to stir underneath him some indeterminable amount of time later.

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there on the floor but your legs are numb and prickly when you finally move, shifting forward to lean into him. Your breaths are still a little ragged through your nose but you start to kiss him back, tentatively slow at first and then with growing confidence. Growing hunger. The emptiness inside you is quickly filling up with a white hot, molten need, and you groan thickly into his mouth when you feel your pussy give a muted throb of interest. It matches the ever present sting across your ass, in a way, and you feel both in stunning high definition as you carefully raise up to meet him.

Gradually easing back when you find your balance and sit up straight, Wriothesley brings his hands around to cup your ribcage. He squeezes, rucking up your jumper and blouse in the process but, as always, he doesn’t try to relieve you of it. That he was still willing to go about this on your terms, at your pace, fills your chest with a strange helium feeling, and you try to follow after him when he eventually pulls back all the way, whining low in your throat at the loss.

“Come here, pretty girl.” He murmurs, tugging you up to stand and you do so with a great deal of haste even when your sore legs threaten to give out under you. Bracing a hand on his broad shoulder to steady yourself, you carefully step out of your sagging pants and underwear when he stoops down to pull them over your feet.

Carelessly tossing your clothes aside, he grabs around your middle again and easily tugs you into his lap. Your heart pounds a wild beat inside your chest when you realize he’s centering you over his leg, and you quickly scramble to get into position. There’s no denying the excitement you feel searing your veins now, the speed at which you’d come to love this particular activity surprising even you. It felt like you were irreversibly addicted to it, and you moan very softly when your bare cunt presses down into his thigh. Pelvis tipping upward, you steal a quick glance down at yourself, still amazed at how broad and thick his leg looks under you. It’s not exactly hard to imagine something else forcing your thighs into a wide spread around him but that still scares a little more than you were willing to admit.

Gently pulling you forward so that your cunt rocks down to settle squarely against his pant leg, Wriothesley gathers you right up against his chest and bends his head to yours again. You moan into the searing hot kiss and bring your hands up to clutch at him, the toes of your shoes bracing on the floor to give yourself leverage as you settle into a slow, mind numbing pace with him.

It truly feels like your brain is melting when the stilted friction on your pussy soon makes you tremble and shake for him, panting heavily into his mouth. You’re distantly aware of the stiff tension in his body but Wriothesley just lets you find your pleasure on him without trying to take advantage of your muddied, intoxicated state. His hands roam over your body in a continuous caress, pinching, squeezing, kneading with rough calloused fingers, but he doesn’t wander to your chest or between your legs. He’d only touched you there once, back in that cramped little alley, but thinking back on it when you were moving with him like this … maybe you should invite him to touch you there again? It would probably feel good, and grinding yourself on his leg was such a slow, tortuous process.

Or maybe you could try touching him?

Turning your head to suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, you take a moment to steady your nerves. You’d never crossed this line before, never been brave enough to take the plunge but, oh, you were so curious and your pussy positively clenches at the thought of feeling him under your palm. You wanted to touch him. You needed to.

“Y - your grace …”

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?” He breathes into the scant pace separating you from him, head tipped back to look at your from this slightly elevated position.

An intense shudder works through you at the thought of actually doing it, of actually saying the words, and you loose a keening mewl as you stubbornly turn your head to look elsewhere. You couldn’t look at him and say it, you just couldn’t!

“Can … ahhn, would it be permissible for me to, um — t - touch you as well?”

His thick fingers give a muted little jolt of surprise where they’re squeezing around your waist, and you tightly screw your eyes shut when he leans in to kiss the side of your neck. “Oh, little miss. You don’t have to ask. You can touch me as much as you want.”

Trembling there on his lap, you hesitate to do it but finally gather enough courage to drag your hand down off his shoulder. Shyly watching the slow descent of it down his broad barrel chest, over his stomach, all the way down to the center of his lap. You give a tiny little jerk when you see the stiff outline pressing up against the interior, the motion of your hips inelegantly stuttering as you take in the shape of it, the size. It was indeed quite large, your heart nearly giving out entirely in your overwhelmed horror, but … but like this it wasn’t quite so bad. Not as scary as if you were perhaps looking at it straight on.

Timidly cautious, you press your fingers over the outline and Wriothesley breathes out a thick, heavy sound that is suspiciously reminiscent of a growl. It seems to vibrate through you, pulling a quiet whimper out of your throat, but you force yourself to stay focused. Your curiosity was a little too compelling to get sidetracked now, and even your mindless rutting against him slows to a complete standstill while you feel along the length of him, just familiarizing yourself with the press of it against your hand. Even through his slacks it seems heavy and it’s so incredibly warm that you feel a dull, sympathetic tremor deep inside your cunt.

Evidently realizing just how distracted you were, Wriothesley pulls back from your neck enough to look down at himself as well. “Is it so fascinating?”

“A little bit …”

He laughs, sounding mildly strained. “If you’re curious I’ll teach you about it, but I won’t make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. In this, at least, I’ll play by your rules.”

And he’d done such a good job respecting your boundaries thus far … perhaps it was alright to test the waters some. To give in to this primal urge coursing through your system, making you feel indescribably hot and mindless.

“Would it really fit inside me?”

The hushed noise he makes sounds so wounded it actually startles your attention up, and you take in his pained expression with great big eyes.

“W - what? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. Please don’t start getting defensive, now of all times.” Grunting, Wriothesley grabs under your arms as he shifts back further against the lounge so he can rather gingerly recline back, pulling you right along with him. The careful motion stretches you out across his body to rest against his chest, prompting you to readjust the way you're straddling his thigh to keep your thrumming cunt pressed up tight against it. Letting out a shuddering exhale, he shifts underneath you just so before tipping his face down again. “If you say things like that you’re going to make this go crazy, and I’m not so sure you’re ready for that yet. Try rubbing it, like this.”

You can’t quite stop the squeak of surprise that bursts out of you when he reaches over to grab your stilled hand. Redirecting you to the center of the bulge, he manually squeezes your trembling fingers around him and your skin positively crawls with an eruption of goosebumps when you feel it pulse against your palm. Wide eyed and quaking, you slowly bring your gaze back down to watch him guide your hand up along the rigid length and then back down again. You’d never before seen anything quite like it, but there was a very real, very primitive part of your brain that abruptly clicks on at the sight of it.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” He grunts, still dragging your hand up and down, up and down the length of him. “It feels good. Like when you rub that cute pussy all over my leg. You can squeeze it, if you want.”

Experimentally, you do just that and the responding twitch of Wriothesley’s cock has your cunt repeatedly clamping down on nothing, a harried, deeply frazzled whine rising in you. It was like you were cumming, but not really. You felt close, though. As if just touching him like this, feeling the hot, pulsing need of him in the palm of your hand was stoking your own fire. Building your own pleasure up into something that was very nearly palpable.

More confident this time, you give him another squeeze, and he makes a rumbling, needy sound in the back of his throat. Consumed with your own wanton need, you turn your head to look at him again and a distant thrill of surprise rushes through you when you find those deep sapphires watching you. Not your hand on him, but you.

“Am I really making you feel good, your grace?”

“Very much so.”

Smiling, you lean up to press your mouth to his. He watches you do it, accepts your kiss, and a stilted puff of air rattles out of him to dance over your lips. You’ve never seen him hold himself quite so stiffly before but he starts to kiss you back just a heartbeat later, slowly at first and then with more demanding force behind the motion. Just like every other time he pulls you into his pace with ease, soon dominating the exchange while his hand continues to stroke yours over his trapped cock. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling impatient like this, indescribably needy, and you wriggle yourself down on his leg in search of more friction. Wriothesley gladly obliges you, curling his leg up a little higher to press more firmly into your cunt to make you keen at the sensation.

As you start to ride him again, the hand that had remained carefully on your back this entire time starts to drag lower, tracing the curve of your waist and further still to smooth over your reddened bottom. You suck in a sharp breath at the sting but it just seems to make your pussy clench and drool even more obscenely. Rearing back against his hand, you give his length another tight squeeze to pull a low groan out of him.

“You are a real menace, pretty girl.” He softly chides you, pulling back just enough to look in your face. “For as prim and proper as you like to act, you’re certainly an insatiable little thing.”

You start to apologize for it, but then think better of it. “Do you like it, your grace?”

“More than I’d like to admit.”

Your breath catches at that and you lurch on top of him when a warning tremor tears through your shuddering body. “Will … will you bounce your leg against me?”

“Of course.” Eyelids drooping to attractive halfmast, Wriothesley presses his forehead against yours and tenderly nudges at your nose. “Shall I spank you while I do it? Something tells me you’d like that an awful lot.”

“Ooh … yes, your grace, please spank me.”

Another rumbling groan rises in him, eyes drifting shut as if in great pleasure. You don’t get a chance to linger on how positively devastating he looks like that because he presses his thigh up into you, sending you lurching with a faltering, deeply wounded sound. The motion of his leg jostles you slightly, prompting you to clutch at him all the more fervently — one latched around his cock and the other clinging to his neck — and you toss your head back with a high pitched squeal when he suddenly swats your ass without warning. You waver, hesitate for only a blink of the eye, and then you’re driving your cunt down to meet him with fast mounting urgency.

“Oohh, gods —“

Swat! Across the other cheek to make the meaty swell bounce.

A deeply flustered sound punches its way out of your mouth, hips swiveling desperately. “Ahhn, ahh! Y - your grace! Nggnh!”

Swat! The first cheek again, this time with a possessive squeeze afterward that makes your toes curl.

“I’d say I could never get tired of watching you bounce that pretty pussy on my leg, but I’d hate to discourage you from wanting to try anything else.”

Your tense fingers impulsively squeeze down on his cock, making his chest hitch, and you seethe through your teeth at the quickly cresting waves of ecstasy washing over you. You were close, so close.

“Please —“ Swat! Swat! First one cheek and then the next, in rapid succession. “Ooh! God! I - I want it, your grace! I want it!”

Swat!

“What do you want, lovely girl?” Wriothesley grunts, his own voice faltering now.

“I - I want this!” You give his length a desperate squeeze, so lightheaded and dizzy you barely even know what you’re saying anymore.

Swat!

“It’s already yours, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready for it, you’ll have it.”

The thought alone of taking him deep inside your body makes every single muscle in your shuddering frame lock up, and you lurch to a sudden standstill on top of him. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out when he just keeps bouncing his leg on your drooling cunt, quicker now. A little harder. You sway unsteadily as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, chest heaving with the gasps you frantically try to suck in but you can’t quite seem to get enough air. It felt like you were smothering under the intense pressure, hanging right on the precipice.

Swat!

“Cum for me, cum all over my leg and let me see that pretty face you make.” He practically growls, grabbing a tight, pinching handful of your ass to really drive the sting home.

It’s that sharp, toe curling throb of pain that tips you over, and you cum with a gutted lurch. Wheezing, you arch against him so hard your spine aches in protest but you can’t stop it. Your hips judder wildly and your knees nearly give out from how hard it slams into you all at once, but he clutches you tight in his arms while you spasm and writhe, squealing in mindless delight. It’s all you can do just to keep your voice down, painfully aware that the two of you were not in the privacy of your flat, but you manage, somehow, to get through it without shrieking at the top of your lungs.

You’re so exhausted and drained by the time the tremors finally ebb and fade that you collapse on top of him with a deeply frazzled groan. Giving your bottom one final, lingering squeeze, Wriothesley drags his hand back up to rub across your back and a faint shudder ripples through you when you feel him bend close to place a brief kiss to the top of your head.

It was … really nice, actually, sharing such a quiet, intimate moment with him. It wouldn’t be hard to get used to it. In fact, you dully realize, you kind of already were.

“You’re such a good girl for me sometimes.” He murmurs into your hair, his voice warm with praise and affection alike. “It just makes me wonder why you can’t be so good all the time.”

“That would get boring.” You dazedly slur, making him chuckle.

“That’s true. There’s no fun in it without a little power struggle first.”

You hum a noncommittal sound, already half dozed off where you’re spread out on top of him when a muted twitch under your loosely curled palm makes you jolt. Blearily lifting your head from his chest, you glance down to find him still rock hard in his pants and your brows quickly draw together in confusion.

“You didn’t - -“

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away.”

“But - -“

“Hush. Just do as I say for once and let it go.” Reaching up to palm the back of your head, he forces your cheek back down to his chest and holds you there even when you weakly try to struggle out from under it. “You really aren’t making this easy on me, you know that? Saying all that nonsense and now this. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about, little miss. Not yet.”

Your mouth pulls in a pout even though he can’t see it. “Will you teach me more later?” It’s little more than a mouse squeak when you were so tired, so exhausted after everything that had transpired today.

Wriothesley seems to think on that for a moment before softly pressing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll teach you everything in due time. You just need to be patient. I don’t want you to get so caught up in the moment that you rush into something only to regret it later. As I said before, I’m a guarddog. I'm not interested in biting the hand holding my leash.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You aren’t sure when, exactly, you fell asleep, but you wake up on the lounge some time later, finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling of his office in a bit of a daze. You’re a little disoriented at first and then you remember where you were. Everything that had happened. The meeting with the inmates. That horrible incident with George. The sound slap you’d given Wriothesley right across his stupid smug mouth. The way you’d crawled into his lap and …

You bolt upright with a soul sucking gasp. Your instinctive panic is immediately interrupted, however, when you realize his coat is now pooled in your lap, and you blink down at it with owlish surprise. He’d given you his jacket while you slept?

“Ah, you’re finally awake. I was wondering how long you’d be out for.”

Startling, you twist around on the lounge to look over at the desk where you find Wriothesley reading over a small stack of paperwork in his hand while the other lifts a steaming cup of tea up to his mouth. You could smell it from where you were sitting, the rich aroma drawing you a little further out of your half asleep stupor and a bit more into reality. Archons, you felt like you were dying of thirst.

“You wouldn't happen to have an extra cup for me, would you?”

“Of course I do. Don’t be silly.” Setting his own back down after taking a sip, he sedately glances over at you from across the room. “I even grabbed some sandwiches and cookies for you from the cafeteria. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.”

You immediately realize that that was an understatement. You weren’t just hungry, you were famished!

But when you move to get up, pulling his coat off your lap, you abruptly come to a screeching halt. Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you stare down at your bare legs in abject disbelief. “Where are my pants?”

“Don’t sound so alarmed. I put them somewhere safe.”

“Well, I’d like to have them back!” You snap, shooting daggers over at him.

Humming as if in thought, Wriothesley drops the paperwork on top of the desk and reclines back into his chair. “I don’t think so. Not just yet anyway. I’m not quite through with you yet.”

A shudder races up your stiffening spine, and you nervously gather his heavy jacket close to your chest, clutching at it. “W - what does that mean? I thought you said you’d let me decide when I was ready?”

He barks a quick laugh. “I don’t mean that. I’m talking about your punishment from earlier. We got a little sidetracked, didn’t we?”

“Oh.” Heaving a long suffering sigh, you roll your eyes and move to stand up. Keeping his coat held to your front, you slowly shuffle over to the desk to stand in front of it. “Is that really necessary? I understand why you had to do it, even if I don’t agree with your methods.”

Idly tapping his finger on the sturdy wood, he just silently studies you for a long moment. “It’s not exactly about agreeing with me.” He says at length. “I’m still waiting on an apology, for starters.”

You promptly shrink in on yourself. “You hit me all the time …”

“No, what I do is spank your bratty little bottom to sort you out. I don’t hit you across the face, and I never would unless you asked me to.”

“Why would I - -“

“Do not try to change the subject. I told you once before that I’m not so easily distracted, didn’t I?”

He tips his head to one side as if to further drive his point home, and you feel your cheeks start to warm. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“Ah, so you have been paying attention then. Good. I know firsthand just how smart you really are so I do expect you to start figuring things out, the more time we spend together. And I do hope that you’ll continue to share more with me.”

You hesitate at the first inkling that something was not quite right here. He was talking about more than just the slap, wasn’t he? But what else could there be that he wanted to talk about?

“I do enjoy spending time with his grace,” You say slowly, warily. “Even if he does make me feel uniquely harassed half of the time. And I’m sorry for hitting you. You’re right that there’s a difference between the two. I tried to hurt you out of anger, while you do it to —“

Wriothesley chuckles when you search for the word only to come up empty handed, the smile tugging at his mouth equally roguish and charming. “To correct you. I can’t deny that you can be a little frustrating sometimes, but I’m sure the same can be said of me. In fact, I know it can. But I don’t hit you in anger. Not when I’m nearly double your size and weight. To allow my self control to slip even slightly would be … reckless indeed, because I could seriously hurt you. I’m always careful to make sure I’m fully aware of what I’m doing and how hard I’m doing it before I ever put my hands on you, little miss. I hope you know that.”

Your back straightens when it suddenly hits you. That’s what he was worried about?

“Are you afraid I won’t want to see you anymore after the way you … broke George’s wrist earlier?”

A long stretch of quiet settles over the office, perfectly still and perfectly quiet.

“A little.” He says at last. “I couldn’t exactly blame you if that was the decision you came to, but I’d still be a bit — disappointed to lose you. A lot, actually. I enjoy our time together too.”

You swallow. Hard. “Your grace, I … I won’t deny that you scared me earlier, but it’s not like it was the first time. You’ve made me nervous and frightened, and happy, and sad, and so incredibly confused I could just tear my own hair out sometimes, but — I was more frightened for George than myself, if I’m being honest. I was scared you were going to hurt him.”

“And then I did.” He says simply, and you nod.

“Yes. Frankly, I was horrified. That’s why I got so mad at you. I never thought you’d actually be capable of something like that, and I guess I didn’t really know how to react. But you’ve never made me feel like I was truly in danger. I’ve never worried about you breaking my arm, or snapping me in half even though I’m sure you easily could. I’m not scared of you, your grace. I just … I don’t want to see you hurt anyone else, least of all because of me.”

He lets that settle for a drawn out beat, clearly turning everything over in his head, before decisively leaning forward to grab up the teapot sitting on a tray at the corner of the desk. “Well, I can’t exactly promise you that. Should the need ever arise again, I won’t hesitate to protect you. Especially if it’s one of my inmates trying to cause you harm. But with that being said,” He starts to pour out a second cup, also taken off the tray. Your eyes voraciously wander over to the little plate covered with a tin lid, knowing there were promised sandwiches and cookies hiding underneath, and your stomach churns in hunger. “I solemnly swear that from here on out I will do everything in my power to avoid it ever coming to that. If we can stop it from reaching that point then surely both of us will be satisfied. Does that sound like a reasonable compromise to you?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Excellent. Then come sit on my lap and help yourself to some food and tea. I’m sure you’re starving.”

For once you only feel slightly hesitant to heed his command without needing to be told twice, and you eagerly shuffle around the desk to join him. You’re able to hide the nudity of your lower half behind his coat which you keep tucked around your waist even as you get settled on his legs. It was a seat you were quickly (perhaps even embarrassingly so) getting used to, and the thick arm that snakes around your middle to secure you in place was likewise becoming something comfortably familiar as well.

The first thing you reach for is the plate, stretching across the desk to pull it closer so you can peel away the lid and find out what’s inside. A handful of neatly sliced sandwiches of a few different varieties greets you, as well as a small pile of assorted biscuits. You don’t hesitate to snag one up and pop it into your mouth, humming in delight at the taste. Chuckling softly, Wriothesley gives you a brief squeeze around the middle as his other hand slides over to pick up the abandoned stack of papers again.

“Are you aware just how adorable you can be at times?”

Humming in agreement, you covetously go for a sandwich next. “His grace flatters me.”

“Brat.” Giving your tummy an affectionate pinch, he turns his attention to the papers. “Another question, if you would be kind enough to humor me. Are you aware that you’ve earned yourself a few fans here in the prison?”

You freeze in place with the dainty little triangle lifted half of the way to your waiting mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

“Belle, the woman at the meeting earlier, slipped this note into my mailbox some time ago. She apologizes for what happened with George, and she wishes you a speedy recovery with hopes that you’ll return soon to start your sewing classes. You’re welcome to read it for yourself if you’d like.”

Slowly, you lower the sandwich and reach out for the paper. You’re more than a little surprised to find it says exactly what he’s relayed to you. “Wha — but I don’t understand?” Dropping the sandwich altogether now, you numbly flip to the next page only to find a second letter written in two different but equally terrible sets of handwriting. Those brothers.

“Don’t pay them much mind.” He murmurs as you scan over the, frankly, perplexing note. “They’re trouble, but mostly harmless. I won’t go so far as to say they mean well, but …”

Thoroughly perplexed, you flip to the final page. This one is rather neat and tidy, and relievingly concise, but you can’t quite place who it would have come from. All it says is that they hoped you wouldn’t be scared off by what happened, and that they looked forward to the program being a resounding success. It was of course very flattering but rather unexpected. A bit confounding, if you were being honest.

“Who wrote this one?”

“His name is Gaspard. You probably didn’t notice, but he was making puppy dog eyes at you the whole time.”

Flustered heat promptly crawls up your neck to settle deep in your cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor leaves much to be desired, your grace?”

“Oh, I’m actually being quite serious. I thought for sure if I was going to have to pry someone off you it was going to be him.”

Another teasing pinch at your waist accompanies that and you sigh out through your nose, trying very hard not to let his foolishness distract you. “May I ask what he’s serving time for? This handwriting looks very well practiced, and his spelling is perfect.”

With a quiet hum, Wriothesley leans to the side to brace his chin in the palm of his hand. “He’s in for embezzlement.”

“Embezzlement!” You squawk, beyond horrified. “B - b - but if it’s the man I’m thinking of, he was so polite and quiet! I thought he was just shy so I didn’t want to draw too much attention to him!”

“Those are the ones you have to watch out for the most.” He laughs. “You’ll learn that in due time. The ones like George are mostly all bark and no bite, unless you back them into a corner. Gaspard’s type is way more dangerous because you can never be quite sure what they’re thinking.”

More than just a bit ruffled, you defensively clutch the small stack of letters to your chest. “So then I suppose that would put you in the latter category?”

“Hm … I suppose it would.”

With a click of your tongue, you set the papers aside and primly return to your sandwich. “Regardless, I think it’s clear how we should proceed. We need to get a seamstress out to the prison as soon as possible for Belle, and I’m sure we can find a willing chef for those two troublemakers as well.” You pause with the little triangle almost up to your mouth again, hesitating a moment before slowly lowering it once more. “That is — if you’d still like to work with me going forward. I’m sure you probably have some reservations after what happened today, but I promise I’ll be more cautious next time and - -“

“Hush. I’m not going to take it away from you like a toy you’re not allowed to play with anymore. You’ll still have your little program and I’ll still work with you to help you implement it. You’ll just have to be a bit more closely supervised with it going forward.”

“… you are truly detestable sometimes.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Wriothesley thankfully lets you eat in peace after that, and your stomach is quite glad for it. You happily scarf down two sandwiches and another cookie to go with your cup of tea, but you quickly begin to feel full. Eventually, you find yourself leaning back against his chest with your head resting along his shoulder, and you just quietly watch him work through a different stack of papers, this one much more formidable than your measly pile. You were going to cherish them forever though, even had half a mind to go out and have them framed immediately, but that seemed a little excessive, even for you.

The intimate atmosphere and the close proximity with him almost has you dozing again, but the large hand idly rubbing over your tummy keeps you more or less grounded in reality, you sigh, very softly, when he eventually gives you an attention grabbing pinch some indeterminable amount of time later.

“You’re not falling asleep on me again, are you?”

“No, your grace. I am only resting.”

“Good.” He says rather amicably, setting the sheet in his hand down. “Because there’s still the matter of your punishment to go over.”

Groaning, you let your head loll back against his shoulder to look up at the ceiling. “You really never let anything go, do you?”

“It would be remiss of me if I did. More importantly though, I wanted to show you something. Do you remember what I said earlier, about getting spanked with something much worse than a hairbrush?”

You immediately lurch on top of him, skin crawling at just the thought as you try to jump up off his lap and escape, but Wriothesley just tightens his arm around you to keep you pinned even when you inelegantly flail. “Wait — that’s not fair, your grace, I — ow!”

The hard slam of your knee against his desk has you whimpering in pain, and he quickly takes advantage of that stunned moment to haul you back and secure you more firmly in place. “That’s what you get for jumping to conclusions. Let that be a lesson to you.” Sighing, he presses his mouth to the top of your head in a lingering kiss while you try to shake out the hurt from your leg. “Troublesome girl.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you right now!” You snip, still rubbing at your bruised knee. “And what were you even talking about? I don’t think I deserve to be struck with a stick or a measuring rod, or — or - -“

“You don’t, you’re right about that. But I want to show you what comes after the hairbrush, if you’ll let me. I’d like to think having that knowledge in the back of your mind might give you enough incentive to make better decisions in the future, but given how hard headed you are … maybe it won’t.”

Huffing, you petulantly cross your arms. “You only want to show me?” You didn’t trust it at all. Not one bit.

“I planned to actually strike you with it, of course. Otherwise it would just be an empty threat and you’d have no baseline to gauge how far you’re willing to go just to throw a fit over something. But how about this? I’ll make you a deal. You like when I do that, don’t you?”

You were loath to admit it out loud but you did indeed, and your pussy slowly clenches with interest. Damn him straight to the abyss and back. “I’m listening.”

“Good girl. I figured you would be.” Another kiss pressed to the top of your head, his breath displacing some of the flyaways there. “You get to choose then. Would you like me to round off your punishment with my hand and twenty strokes of the hairbrush, or would you prefer to take six from the mystery implement?”

Twisting around in his hold, you look up at him in abject shock. “Only six?”

“Only six.” He confirms.

“And you won’t tell me what it is first? Is it really that bad?”

“No, and no. It’s just a different kind of pain, is all. Something you aren’t used to. I strongly suspect if I told you beforehand, you’d be too frightened to take it on and would instead gladly subject your poor bottom to a much worse fate than it needs to suffer.” Drawing a stilted breath, Wriothesley slips one of his hands under the jacket to caress along your bare thigh, warming the skin under his palm. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already been appropriately corrected. There’s no need to actually take you over my knee unless you leave me with no other choice. The second option is preferable for both of us, first and foremost because I intend for it to be a warning more than anything. The choice is yours though, little miss. I am but at your beck and call.”

You snort at that and pin him with a wry look. “Sure. I might believe that when pigs fly.” With a shake of your head, you turn back around so you can slump against him, listlessly picking at the fur trim on his jacket in your lap while you think it over. One was obviously the better sounding choice but … didn’t that mean it was a trap?

Big, burly arms squeezing around you, Wriothesley bends close to kiss your temple, your cheek, down to your neck. They’re soft and fleeting, decidedly, chaste, and yet they still make your pulse start to thrum a little faster. You really were regrettably weak for him. It just wasn’t fair.

“May I add an extra term onto our deal?”

“Let’s hear it.”

“If I choose the second option, will … will you play with me afterward?”

He seems to hesitate against you, no doubt catching onto your meaning. “I was planning on doing that anyway. I always make sure you get rewarded at the end, don’t I?” A lingering kiss pressed into your temple.

You were really starting to become hot and flustered again, and it shows in the way your voice strains slightly. “I don’t mean like that. I — I think I want you to touch me, your grace.”

This time he really does go still. A long beat of quiet punctuates the moment, and then he shifts against you, speaking across the side of your face. “Where do you want me to touch you, pretty girl? Between your legs?”

Just hearing him say it makes you shudder from your head straight down to your toes, and you fitfully twist on his lap so you can tip your head back to look at him. “Everywhere, sir. Between my legs and — my chest too. If you want.”

“Of course I want to, silly thing.” Breathing out a rather terse exhale, he tips his head to kiss your mouth but it is regretfully short lived, and you whine softly when he retreats again. “I need you to clarify something for me first though, so I know exactly what it is you’re comfortable with. Do you want to get completely undressed for me or would you rather I touch you through your shirt?”

“O - oh.” You hadn’t thought about it that far, and you shyly avert your gaze. Although you did want to feel his hands on your breasts, the thought of being completely nude with him was a daunting one indeed. It was silly, of course, but that seemed like something of a big step and a potentially awkward one at that. “I … I don’t know if I’m ready to get naked yet so — through my shirt?”

“Through your shirt it is.” He agrees, pressing his mouth to your cheek in a hard, reassuring kiss. It makes you squirm, just a little bit, how willing he is to humor you in this way, but you think that it probably means more to you than you even fully realize. “You’re a good girl, you know that?” He murmurs against your skin. “I’m so proud of you for being honest with me. I know that’s not always easy for you to do.”

“Enough already.” You huff in embarrassed fluster, making him chuckle.

“Don’t start getting cranky. I don’t want to have to really spank you if I don’t have to.” Finally, he pulls all the way back to give you some space, patting your leg under the jacket. “Alright. Stand up and put your hands on the desk for me. We’ll do this standing up.”

Suddenly confused, you hesitate just a moment before rocking forward with no shortage of hesitation. He didn’t often strike you while standing. Usually only when he was made to grab you to stop you from scuttling away and a chair or other wasn’t readily available …

You try not to think about that too hard though as you find your feet with his coat somewhat awkwardly clutched to your front still. He reaches around to take it from you and you reluctantly let it go, shivering when it falls away to leave you bared from the waist down. Shuffling forward a step, you then reach out and slowly place your hands palm down on the desk while he stands up behind you, pushing the chair further back to allow for some space.

Wriothesley presses up close behind you then, making a fresh shudder work down your spine as he leans over you to gently reposition your palms a little further apart. He reaches down to take your waist next so he can carefully bend you forward with your legs squared, nice and firmly rooted. You aren’t quite sure what to make of it all but his hands feel decidedly nice on you, and you just sigh very softly when he moves back. The following moment or two of rustling further leaves you stumped, especially when you catch a soft metallic click on the air, and you have to try very hard not to turn around and look. He seemed quite sure whatever it was would startle you a great deal but …

When he eventually comes up beside you again, you turn your head to look at the hand he holds out towards you. Your brows make a prompt, very expeditious trip up to your hairline.

“Wha — y - your belt, sir?” You warble out on a squeak, genuinely flabbergasted by this revelation.

He chuckles faintly, snapping your wide eyed attention up at him so fast it nearly makes your head spin. “That look on your face is exactly why I didn’t tell you outright but it sounds worse than it actually is. At least the way I’m going to do it is.”

“W - which would be?” You ask, nervously glancing at the folded over strip of leather with a great deal of fast mounting horror.

“We’ll start off slow and work our way up in intensity, but even by the end I won’t be using too much force. My goal isn’t to actually hurt you, just teach you. See, the thing about this is it covers a wider area. I can strike you across both cheeks in one swing, and the relative flexibility of the leather means it carries a sharper sting with it as well. I don’t think it’ll take much to have you dancing on your toes, so I probably won’t even end up using a fraction of my strength when all is said and done. Does all of that sound agreeable to you, little miss?”

You work to swallow down your nerves and almost choke on it. “I … I suppose so. But — if I really can’t take it, will you stop?”

“Of course I will. I have no interest in brutalizing you or anything of the sort. That being said though I’m confident that you’ll do just fine. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.”

A wholly mirthless laugh punches out of your throat. “I’m really not sure about that, your grace.”

“Then let’s find out.”

Transfixed, you follow the motion of the folded over belt when he lifts it in one hand and then slaps it down into the waiting palm of the other. You startle at the loud, meaty whap! and suddenly your blood turns to ice. You can feel yourself slipping under alarmingly fast, whatever the incomprehensible shroud was that blanketed your mind every time you ended up in these situations with him, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to do much to shield you from the full brunt of it in this particular instance.

Trying very hard not to shake when he steps behind you, you tip your face down to stare blankly down at the desk. The tension thrumming through your body is thick enough to suffocate and nauseatingly cloying. Just thinking about him hitting you with that was enough to make you sick …

“Oh, and just a word of advice.” He tacks on, standing about a step behind you by the sound of it. “Try to breathe through it as much as you can. That will help more than anything else.”

“… yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

His fingertips brush across your ass then, and you jolt so hard you almost come right up off the floor. Wriothesley just takes a moment to coo at you though, chiding you softly for being so jumpy, but it was a little hard not to be! You felt like you were going to vibrate right out of existence, and the heavy weight of nervous anticipation was not making it any better. You’re such a mess of nerves and sharp adrenaline that you barely even notice the way your skin prickles under his hand, still hot to the touch and tender from your earlier spanking, and you wince slightly as he rubs over your bottom. It seems like a cruel thing to do, getting you sensitized and warmed up for his belt like this.

“I’m going to start.” He finally warns you as his hand retreats, and you immediately brace for the deafening crack and the splintering pain to go with it.

To your flinching surprise, however, the belt just lightly swats across your bottom with a soft little pap! and you absolutely hate the way you still violently lurch, having expected much worse. Your cheeks immediately flood with heat as he laughs softly behind you at the big reaction.

“I told you we’d work our way up. That’s one. Count for me, pretty girl.”

You obediently open your mouth but you only make it so far as drawing a breath to respond when the belt slaps across your ass, a little harder this time. You notice the sting he’d mentioned immediately, as well as the insidious reach it has across the swell of both cheeks, but all it does is make you rock forward on your toes a bit. You’d never admit it out loud to him, but he was right. This wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be.

And that was precisely why you didn’t trust it.

“… two, sir.”

“Good girl. Your bottom looks mighty cute like this, by the way. I think I could get used to seeing you bent over my desk.”

You clench your teeth, half in annoyance and half to brace for the next hit. If they kept steadily increasing like that …

Whap!

This one subtly jerks you forward with the impact and you wheeze over the desk, trying and failing to process just how sharp the sting really is. It leaves you dizzy, a bit stunned in the aftermath as prickling fire welts up over the swell of your bottom. It has your toes curling in their shoes, skin crawling with needle pinpricks as you work to steady yourself. Okay, that was marginally worse than his hand but still not quite as bad as the hairbrush.

“Ooh … three, sir …”

“You’re doing very well so far. What do you think of it?”

You weren’t entirely sure you were properly equipped to answer that question at the moment, but after a short beat of consideration you finally say, “I see what you meant. It’s a different kind of pain, but it’s not terrible.”

“It could be.”

You snort. “I bet it could.”

Wriothesley shifts behind you making you instinctively brace for the next hit, but it never comes. Instead, he speaks again after a drawn out pause. “Do you really trust me not to get carried with it, and to know your pain threshold better than you do?”

That seemed like an odd question to ask after all this time, but you decide you can humor it as you readjust your feet with a quick shuffle. “I do, your grace. You push me sometimes but you’ve never actually crossed that line. Until you do, I trust you.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He murmurs, a note of humor in his voice now. “Incidentally, I think you should know that I trust you as well. I suppose that makes us even.”

A dull trickle of surprise washes over you, but before you can fully process what he’d said the next strike comes with a considerably louder crack and it startles an ‘oh!’ out of you. Rocking forward on your toes, seething, you gingerly shift your weight from one side to the other but it does absolutely nothing to dispel the throbbing strip across your backside. It really was insidious how it could catch the meatiest parts of your ass in a single blow, and you carefully try to stretch it out with a dramatic curve of your spine.

“That’s quite a show you're putting on for me right now, pretty girl.” Wriothesley drawls in a low tone that sounds like silk in your pounding ears. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your top off? I’m already seeing quite a lot …”

Whimpering faintly, you shyly squeeze your thighs together and straighten slightly. “Don’t be a pig …”

“My apologies. It’s so easy to forget my manners when you’re presenting such a cute pussy to me like that. I’ll be sure to mind myself.”

“Ooh … will you touch it, your grace?”

“Yes. Gladly. But only after we’re done.” He says. Then, much more softly, “It will be a reward for the both of us.”

You draw a steadying breath and force your constricting lungs to expand with it as you carefully resume the position he’d put you in, or something close to it. “Four, sir.”

“Good girl.”

This time you know the swing is coming because you can hear the displacement in the air, and it seems to catch you in a particularly vulnerable spot, because you dance up on your toes with a frazzled yelp. The sting of unshed tears in your eyes quickly joins the splintering sensation across your decidedly sore bottom, and you sniffle rather sadly at the hurt. You understood now why he’d set the count to six, and you were immensely glad for it.

“F - five, sir …”

Wriothesley’s hand abruptly finds your shuddering back and you jolt before stiffly relaxing into his touch. Gently, reassuringly, he drags that massive palm across you in slow, coaxing circles. “There, you’re almost done. I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the last stroke.”

You can’t decide if that makes it better or worse, but you take a moment to collect yourself, just taking slow, deep breaths, just like he’d said to. It does help, a little bit, but the searing line across your ass is very hard to ignore. You were undoubtedly scared of what was coming and, yet, his steady presence at your side was a comforting one. You could do this. You knew you could. Not for him, but because of him.

Gingerly easing your body out of its defensive hunch, you carefully move back into position again. “I’m ready, sir.”

Your first sign that this was going to be awful is the fact that Wriothesley keeps his hand braced against your middle back and just shifts to the side. Your second is the sharp sound of it cutting through the air.

Whap!

Pain explodes across your entire body unlike ever before. You lurch with a wounded, faltering animal sound, unable to even scream, it was that bad! Your knees instantly turn knobbly and you practically collapse with a strained, gasping sob, but he’s right there to catch you. So lost in the swimming daze of blind agony, you barely register him holding you around the waist to keep you upright and somewhat steady, but the soft press of his mouth against your shoulder somehow still manages to catch your attention. It pulls you back into the physical world, bit by bit, at a sluggish pace, and the sound of his crooning voice soon penetrates the numbing fog to mist over you.

“— such a good girl, I’m so proud of you for taking that so well. You didn’t even scream, and I thought for sure you would on the last one. Do you have any idea how much strength that took? You’re such a precious thing.”

Groaning dizzily, you slowly start to straighten up under his helpful guidance, and you don’t protest when he gently steers you back towards the chair with a hiccuping mewl. You’re glad for it, in fact. You just wanted to crawl into his lap and cling to him for the rest of the day. Night? You weren’t even sure what time it was. How long had you fallen asleep for?

You feel well and truly delirious as he sits down and gets situated behind you before reaching back up to tug you into his lap, and you viciously seethe the moment your throbbing ass brushes his pants. Making a valiant effort to arch up off him and escape the pressure, you openly sob when he just pulls you right down. You writhe at the pain, twisting in his arms but then — you abruptly realize where his hands are headed.

Choking on a stuttering gasp, you tip your tear stained face down with a confused little whimper to watch his palms drag up the front of your body, further rucking and irreparably wrinkling your jumper in the process. They smooth over the curve of your breasts and then pause to give them a savory squeeze, and you shudder intensely at the sensation. You’d never been touched like this before. Not by anyone, and it surprises you how sensitive your chest is under the weight of his hands. Your nipples immediately spring up even under your clothes, and you fitfully turn your head to rest across his shoulder with a half strangled wail.

“These feel so good in my hands, pretty girl. Is this what you wanted me to do? Hm?”

Screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of so many sensations all at once — the pain and the pleasure so horribly intermingled that you could hardly tell them apart anymore — you offer a quick, jerky nod. “Mhm!”

Wriothesley breathes out a terse sigh against the side of your head and nuzzles further into you while his hands keep fondling your breasts. “Good. They seem sensitive. There are a lot of fun things we could do with that information, you know. I have a few — toys you might be interested in later. Do you like having your pretty tits played with? You certainly look like you do …”

Whining low in your throat, you shudderingly arch to shove your chest further out, and he takes advantage of that to squish them up and together. A deeply frazzled moan rattles out of you when he jostles them for a brief moment before letting them go so that they bounce back into place. He groans, very softly, as he quickly cups around the swell of them again, just holding them in his palms for a moment while he bends close to kiss you.

You’re sinking alarmingly fast, much too fast to make any sense of it, and you clutch at his shirt in a fitful, twisting death grip. He doesn’t even seem to notice, just hungrily kissing you for a tortuously long stretch before eventually pulling back with a stilted exhale. Meaningfully, he sends his gaze lower and you follow his lead, slowly looking down at yourself just to find your tits straining up even through two shirts and a brassier. You issue a low, wounded sound, watching through the impossibly heavy fall of your lashes as he brings his hands up to delicately pluck at the stiffened buds. That alone is almost too much, both the sensation and the visual, but he really starts to tug on them.

“You like that, do you?” He chuckles at all your sensitive quivering. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m more of an ass man myself, but these are nice too. Very nice, indeed. They fit so nicely in my hands, almost like they were made for them. And your nipples … oh, sweet girl, are you going to cum just from having me play with them?”

That didn’t seem to be as much of a preposterous suggestion as you would have otherwise thought when you were currently wrestling with the thrumming tension that spikes through your body. You’d never felt quite so hot or overly sensitive, and you keen at the growing need threatening to swallow you whole.

Evidently catching on, Wriothesley drags one of his hands down across your front, over your belly and straight down to dip between your trembling thighs. You feel him experimentally touch over your slit for a brief moment, familiarizing himself with it, before pressing his fingers into meaty lips to spread them. You rock violently in his hold and instinctively curl your legs out wide even when they weakly twitch in the air, keeping them spread for him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in your punch drunk state of mind, but it shocks a flustered yelp out of you when he slips in to tease over your clit. It has you twitching, twisting and writhing against him for everything you’re worth. The calloused pad on the tip seems to catch at soft flesh even with the excessive slick coating you and he tauntingly nudges at the delicate little pleasure button, just drawing it back and forth, up and down for a moment, before starting to press down more firmly. You promptly go cross eyed, lurching in his lap with a gutted moan.

The direct contact felt so good … so good you could hardly even stand it, and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. You liked rubbing yourself on his thighs. Thought you’d liked that the most and that you couldn’t like anything else better — but this was overwhelming your already cotton stuffed head alarmingly quick, and the way he continues to pluck at one of your nipples did not seem to be helping you in the slightest. You were going to vibrate right off him if he kept that up!

“Y - your grace! Ooohhnnggh!”

“Do you enjoy that, little miss? Hm?” He nuzzles against the side of your head, pressing idle kisses to your temple again.

“Ahhnn … yes! I do, your grace! I - I feel like I’m gonna’ — oohh!”

With a soft chuckle that makes his chest vibrate against your back, Wriothesley reaches across to the other breast to give it a savory, pinching knead. Fitful and needy, you impulsively reach down with trembling hands to grab the hem of your jumper so you can yank it up to bunch under your chin. He obliges you by grabbing at your tit again, through just the thin layer of your blouse now, and you somehow manage to shake even harder when he digs his fingers in to tug at the brassier underneath. It’s hard to do indirectly like this and he jostles you slightly with the effort, but you still feel the exact moment your stiff teat slips out of the top of the cup and you just shake even harder.

“I bet you do. Such a sensitive little girl you are …” Pulling in a carefully tempered breath, he abandons that tit much to your blubbering disappointment and reaches over to do the same to the other. Pinching through fabric to grab at the lacy material underneath and nudge it down enough to leave both nipples cutting up directly into the fabric of your shirt. You writhe on top of him with a back bowing shudder and blindly grab at him, his arms, his shirt, the now rumpled collar of his button up, whining a low plea. “Hush. I’ve got you. Bring your hands up for me and wrap them around my neck. Think you can do that for me?”

Offering a stilted nod, you do as he’d asked without question or even much thought to the matter. Later you might wonder why you’re so obedient and pliable with him like this, but in the heat of the moment you find nothing but pleasure, and deep satisfaction at the rumbling noise of approval he gives you when your arms stretch up to curl over his shoulders in a loose hold. The position proves a bit awkward when you can’t get a very good grip on him, but the reason for it quickly makes itself known. Your tits lift under your shirt with the upward motion to jut further out, and his blocky hand quickly descends upon one, pinching the tightly coiled teat to leave you moaning in equal parts distress and delight.

“Ooh, isn’t that a lovely sound? You really are going to be the death of me … let me show you something nice now. You’ll like it, I promise.”

The blocky fingers on your clit slowly retreat and you hiss at the loss only to choke on it a heartbeat later when he firmly presses them over your slit. He gives them a sedate rub and your pelvis involuntarily jumps, pressing up into them with a juddering twitch, eager for more. Desperate for it.

“There, now move with me, pretty girl. Just like you do when you’re grinding this sweet pussy on my leg … that’s it, move your hips. Back and forth. Just follow the motion of my hand — see, you’ve got it. Keep going and don’t stop until you’re shaking for me.”

You suck in a thick, heavy gasp as you bring your swimming attention back down to look at the way you’re spread open on top of him. The wide stretch of your legs is shameful and a little embarrassing even now, but your cunt looks so small and dainty rubbing against his big hand while your thighs quack around it and you can’t quite bring yourself to care about it right now. Wheezing, you rock your pelvis up to follow the friction of his rough fingers before swiveling back and — you outright choke when your sore ass grinds down on him in the process. The faintly raised welts seem to crawl and sting with renewed fervor at the brush of his pants, the hard press of his cock digging up into you in search of the hot, wet warmth between your legs. Your pussy squeezes wildly at the sharp pain, drools yet more sticky slick to coat you in an obscene amount of liquid arousal, and you quickly do it again. Up against the firm pressure of his hand and then back again to rub your sore bottom on him.

It doesn’t take long for you to start quaking in earnest like this and you cling to him desperately as the tension in your body rapidly swells, threatening to bowl you right over if you weren’t careful. But as always Wriothesley’s hold on you is absolute, and you’re free to shake and twist as wildly as you want without having to worry about falling. The hand on your chest alternates between your breasts, squeezing, pinching, tugging at your nipples, each in turn, to leave them feeling raw and sensitized through your shirt while the other keeps guiding your pelvis through the stuttering motion. Maintaining it becomes more difficult with the steady locking of your muscles as warning tremors wrack through you, but he remains an ever steady presence around you and it’s so easy to get lost and swept up in his pace.

Your cunt tilts up against his hand and then your ass nudges back to make dull throbs of pain erupt across your bottom.

Up against his hand with a sticky glide that does absolutely nothing to stop his rough skin from dragging against petal soft folds, then back to feel the weight of him digging into sore flesh that burns at the friction against his slacks.

Up against his hand, back against his cock.

His hand, his cock.

Wriothesley’s hand and Wriothesley’s cock.

The coil snaps. Just like that.

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you wail through your soul shattering release as quietly as you can manage. You seethe, you hiss, you groan, low and faltering. You squeal and you wheeze, bucking uncontrollably with a frantic desperation that he takes in stride. His hold on you doesn’t falter, and he neither grunts or flinches even when you spasm on top of him without heed. He’s like a solid wall underneath you, and he pets you through it all until you finally, at last, start to come down from it some moments later one jagged piece of you at a time.

Going boneless with a haggard noise of deep sated pleasure, you just lay there for a long while and let him caress over you to leave pleasantly warm tingles in the wake of his hands. It’s comfortable like that, there with him. Sitting in the stillness of his office in the buzzing afterglow of release, simply listening to each other's heartbeats for a long time. He was right to say this was something he could get used to, because you could too.

And strangely enough that thought doesn’t frighten you half as much as it probably would have at one time.

“You’re a very good girl for me, you know that?” Wriothesley says at last, finally interrupting the quiet.

Snuggling deeper into his body with a content little sigh, you tip your head back to look up at him from just a scant few millimeters away. “You’re very good to me as well, you’re grace. T - … thank you for that.”

A slow smile tugs at his mouth to accompany the almost wry quirk of his brow. “Oh, am I now? Well, you’re very welcome, of course, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t half expect a different sentiment.”

You frown at that, unable to stop it. “You are easily the most frustrating, blockheaded man I have ever met, and I won’t deny that, but you — you’re kind to me, aren’t you? In your own strange way.”

“I try to be.” He relents, his gaze drifting lower to fix upon your mouth. You can tell he’s thinking about kissing you again by the way his eyelids droop to attractive halfmast, but you reach up to cup the strong ridge of his jaw before he can follow through on it.

“Can I … be kind to you as well, sir?” You give your butt a pointed little wiggle down onto the hard length straining under you, and his brows draw together as if in great discomfort.

“As much as I would like that,” He intones rather thinly. “And for as much as I am tempted, I would rather teach you about that somewhere a bit more appropriate than in my office. At your home. In the comfort of your own bed, if you would permit it, sounds ideal to me.”

You hesitate to respond just a moment too long, still a little overwhelmed at the thought of sharing your bed with him despite the eager thrum you feel at the suggestion, and he takes the chance to gather you against him in a tight squeeze.

“There isn’t any rush, sweet girl. Whenever you’re ready, you will have me. I just want to ensure you receive the care and attention you deserve first and foremost, and I also want you to feel safe. Your bedroom will represent that final boundary and when you’re prepared to invite me into your life like that, that is when I will take you. That sounds fair enough, doesn’t it?”

You want to tell him you are ready, that you want him now, you’re sure of it. Your body and mind alike both seem to crave the intimacy of skin on skin contact with him, while your heart …

Oh, you simply couldn’t think about that right now.

“Yes, your grace.” You murmur instead of any number of other things you could have said to him, wanted to say to him. Needed to say. “That sounds fair.”

“Good.” Wriothesley gives you a reassuring pinch to make you squirm slightly in his arms. “Then I think with that settled it’s about time you and I considered making things somewhat official. Do you think you can stand to be seen with me in public in a non professional capacity for an hour or two?”

Going still against him, you frantically try to parse what he’s asking, what he’s getting at. Make it official? “What do you mean, my lord? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“I’d like to take you out to dinner, little miss. On a date.”

Your face instantly lights up like a firework. A date? With the Duke of Meropide himself?

Oh, but you suddenly felt terribly faint.

“I … I think I’d like that, your grace. Thank you.”

“Wonderful. Then that is what we will do.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #self insert bullshit

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