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#sorry for being on a semi-hiatus!!

blackskorpi0n · 9 months

Note

have you watched the maggie & negan show yet the first episode is free on prime & im watching the rest on free trial rn

i can’t lie the first episode was so trash like it pmo kinda 😭😭

Dead City is what it's called right??? I've seen clips of it here and there and it looks interesting, but also I'm scared af to start it 😭 If the first episode trash then idk......I might delay watching 😩

#cause honestly i feel like negan shoulda died #even though he fine af LMSKFJFHDJ #but i cannot imagine being teams with my husband's killer like what #imma still put it on my watch list tho #twd #twd spoilers #asks #jas #this took so long to answer im sorry omg #ive been on semi hiatus

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fstbmp-a · 4 months

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I love being a writer

And being like "I wanna write a simple drabble" and suddenly it has like 5+ paras of build-up and it isn't even done.

Why am I like this?

#my kingdom ;; ooc #icon relevant yes i wanted to do one for flora first.#and fsr my brain went “i can't be basic w/ this shit” so. i am not being basic.#also so sorry to everyone i owe that'll hopefully change post-holidays <3 #i am on a semi-hiatus for a reason after all

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dumplingsfordays · 27 days

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the phone call

pairing - Megumi x fem!reader

genre - smut

summary - you call Megumi one night in hopes of changing your relationship from being best friends to lovers and it ends very unexpectedly.

cw!: nsfw (sexual themes), mutual masturbation, pet names (sweetheart, baby), bffs to lovers, reader has female genitalia, swearing, timeskip to all characters 18+, one (1) mention of voyeurism + hair pulling + tummy bulge

note - back (sorta?) from my hiatus but I won't post content as frequently. sorry to all you beautiful people who submitted asks 😭😭 I'll make sure to do those fics asap b/c y'all are honestly lovely and overall really respectful and I appreciate it! thank you sm for being patient w/ little old me <33

art credit!

and as always, thank you for reading :))

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Quiet sighs escaped Megumi's lips in tandem with the soft breeze outside, whistling against the glass windowpanes. Moonlight drifted across his fair cheek like a silvery veil, making his pale skin glow slightly, and his long eyelashes, a trait that wasn't his favorite but one that almost every girl constantly pointed out with jealousy, fluttered when they met the edge of the light. And then, in the peaceful summer night-

Bzzt. Bzzt.

The raven-haired man sat up in his bed with sudden urgency, hand moving quickly to his phone on the nightstand and picking up.

"Hey, 'Mimi," your sleepy, half-awake voice came from the speaker. "Sorry to bother you but it's kinda important."

Upon hearing your voice, he relaxes - he lays back down and stares at the blank, white ceiling. "Yeah?"

"Uhm, I just wanted to talk to you about something..."

God, your sleep-laced voice was so gentle, sweet, alluring, even. He couldn't help but sneak a hand towards his abdomen to lay it on his stomach.

"Hey, 'Mimi, you there?" You ask all of a sudden.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm listening, don't worry."

You must be at your desk working, then, he thought, since you're up this late. Wait, no -- he heard the shuffling of bedsheets or something similar a moment ago. That was you, right? Were you also in bed? Did you also have the ghost of a smile dancing on your lips? Was your hand also laid down on your abdomen? Was it slowly creeping further and further down, until-

He shakes his head, rousing himself from his thoughts.

God, Megumi, what the hell are you thinking? They're your best friend, nobody thinks about their best friend getting off!

...Well, something about that scene was... arousing, almost, to him. The mere thought of you, laying on silk bedsheets and rubbing your clit to his voice, sent a shiver up his spine and he snaked his hand under his boxers. Well, guess he was doing this.

"So, um..." you continued, sighing, "I was thinking. I know that it's probably too late into the night to even be discussing this, but..."

"Yeah?"

He lets out a small grunt afterwards as his fingers come into contact with the sensitive skin of the tip of his semi-erect length.

"...are you okay, 'Mimi? Are you working out or something?"

"Ah, no, I'm just..."

Just, you know, casually touching myself to the sound of your voice. Nothing wrong with that at all. There's definitely nothing wrong with jacking off to your best friend's voice.

"Just, um. Moving my, uh..." His eyes glance around the room and lock onto the bedside table. "My table."

There's a small lilt to your voice as you laugh softly and clear your throat before speaking, and Megumi swears that he just got lightheaded from the rush of blood to his nether region.

"Okay... I was just thinking about, well... this. Our friendship."

He tries not to sound too strained and breathy when he replies, starting to slowly move his fist up and down his leaking cock. "What about it?"

"Well, I think that, um.. you're a really nice person. And I really like you. And recently, I was thinking about what it would be like if we, um..."

You pause, biting your lip. Should you really finish your sentence? What if he takes it the wrong way?

"You can say it. I won't judge, y/n."

"Thank you..." you laugh briefly and breathlessly, fidgeting with the skin on your torso. His words were innocent, but it was the tone in which he was speaking that made your thighs twitch slightly and your mouth dry up. Christ, Megumi always made you feel things that you knew you shouldn't be feeling towards a friend who probably only liked you as one. "I, well... I was thinking that it would be nice if we hung out at some point. Maybe, like... go out on a date, or something... I understand if you don't like me in that way, or if you're too sleepy to decide yet, but I just wanted to put that out there..."

His eyes widen a bit as he hears the word "date", and he subconsciously tightens his grip around himself, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. So you were interested in him, too.

"I'd... I'd love to."

He forces down a quiet groan as he hears the pitch of your voice rise slightly in excitement. Unbeknownst to him, your hand slides down your lower abdomen, gliding across your upper thigh.

"R-really? You're not kidding or anything, right? I mean, like... please don't worry about making me feel good about myself or anything, just..."

You hear him laugh softly on the other end, which makes that spot between your legs throb even more intensely.

"Of course," Megumi replies, trying to sound as put-together as he can. "I won't lie to you about stuff like that."

Smiling, you sigh in relief and your hand comes into contact with your inner thigh. After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice a little deeper.

"So.. anything fun happen recently in your life? Any new books you've read, or interesting gossip you've heard?"

Your head tilts to the side as a scenario pops into your head at his words. Him, laying next to you, whispering into your ear as his fingers caress your--

"Nope..." you laugh, a little shakily due to the intrusive thought. "But there was this one thi--"

He makes a quiet noise of pleasure and you choke, your fingers finally touching your slick cunny and rubbing it gently.

"...M-Mimi, did you... are you...?"

"Christ, I'm sorry, I-- fuck. I'm sorry, y/n, I didn't-- God, I..." he sighs, regret clear in his tone as he apologizes. "You probably think I'm some creep or something now. Feel free to cancel the date, I don't deserve it anyway after all this."

You swallow and you feel your face redden in embarrassment before answering, whispering.

"Actually, I... I, um, I'm not mad. I-I'm doing the same."

"What?"

His reply is instantaneous, his voice a mix of nervousness, shock, surprise, with the undeniable tinge of arousal. You were going to be the death of him someday.

"I-I'm doing the same. I know it's weird, I..." you trail off, sighing. "I'm sorry too."

"Can we..."

Megumi's trembling all over now, his cock unfathomably hard and standing up at attention in his fist, which begins to pump up and down a little more rapidly. You can hear it very faintly from your phone and you practically gush at the sound.

"...can we, um... keep doing this? And talking? I just... I think that since you're interested in me and I in you, we can satisfy our urges, I guess..."

"Please," you shiver, voice getting softer and more desperate as he talks.

"Fu-uck..." he groans out, biting his lip and looking down at himself. He decides to finally remove his boxers and strokes himself under the blanket, leaning into his phone's microphone as he pants softly.

You, in your own bed, whimper at the expletive -- you knew his voice was attractive, but this? Him swearing, and in that rough yet pleading tone, too, made you unimaginably wet.

"Can you... can you describe it? Please?" you choke out, toes curling as your fingers press against your clit slightly.

You hear him groan at your words again before he replies.

"I-It's standing up real tall 'n warm, sweetheart... it's fucking throbbing, all for you... God, I just wanna bend you over and... shit... just shove my cock into your tight pussy..."

You moan quietly as you imagine the absolute filth of the scenario, how deep his thick cock'll reach inside you... he'll probably be thrusting into you so hard that people on the street will hear the rhythmic slaps of skin on skin from the window of your bedroom all the way up on the fifth floor. And, oh, God, what if he grabs your hair and pulls on it, twisting your back and pulling his face closer to yours to meet you in an intense kiss, teeth clacking and tongues intertwining in this passionate dance for control?

"You're gonna feel so good around me, baby... maybe clench as I play with your clit and press my hand to your stomach to feel that little dent of my cock... you're gonna feel so fucking warm and wet around me..." Megumi groans loudly as his hand does a particularly satisfying stroke around his length, smearing slightly sticky precum in his fist. "Christ, I can already imagine it... I'm so fucking close..."

"Me too," you cry out, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive skin and thighs quivering from the electrifying pleasure. "I'll feel so good, 'Mimi, so full..."

His fist travels up to his tip, continuing the up-and-down motion as he moans shakily. "y/n-- I-I'm gonna-- fuck, think I'm gonna come--"

You whimper in reply, toes curling and forearm flexing. At long last, that wave of heat crashes down on you both, him groaning shamelessly as thick cum spurts from the red tip and onto his fist, and you gasping for air, moaning as you reach your respective peaks. Your body trembles as you're thrown around mercilessly by your orgasm and he can tell very clearly by your voice -- it's high-pitched, desperate, and borderline wanton.

As you both calm down from your highs, the movements of your hands and arms gradually slowing down, you giggle breathlessly.

"This was... ah, certainly something..."

You hear his voice, deep and comforting as he chuckles, through your phone speaker.

"Indeed it was."

"...But we're still going on that date, right?"

Megumi laughs. "Obviously."

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #megumi fushigiro #fushiguro x reader #jjk fushiguro #smut #holy shit I literally did not watch s2 because I'm so busy but god damn I'm still simping #this was a pretty short one but idrc sorry ;-;

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earlgreyflowers · 4 months

Note

If you’re still looking for inspo: reader riding Oscar for the first time.

(Idk it’s summer and there’s a nationwide shortage of ADHD meds so my brain is just saying things. I also know you’ve got a whole load of requests so don’t feel pressured to write anything if you don’t wanna)

A/N - in an Oscar mood after he made his first appearance in the wild over winter break so enjoy what comes of it lmao. Sorry for the brief hiatus, I just came home from Uni so I’ve been with family all weekend <3

-----------------------------------------

You shove Oscar’s shoulder gently, laughing as he dramatically collapses onto the bed. You follow after him, resting your weight on top of him. His large arms wrap around your smaller frame, holding you tight against him as you pepper kisses all over his face. He chuckles at your antics, his laugh shaking your body. You pull away, giggling at the lipstick marks covering his face along with the pink tinge to his cheeks. He stares up at you, pulling his lip between his teeth as he studies your face. You squirm under his stare, your legs squeezing his hips as your gaze fixates on his lips.

You feel him grow semi-hard at your squirming, the light grinding of your hips against his own feeling like heaven. He pulls himself up, arms wrapped around your back as your legs wrapped around his back. You lean in gently, your breaths mingling between your mouths. His eyes flicker down to your lips, nose bumping yours as he leans closer. Your lips graze his, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Oscar's lips caress your own, molding together, familiar with each other. You keep expecting Oscar to roll you over but he doesn't, instead sliding his hands to your hips and encouraging your grinding as his tongue slips into your mouth. You feel him grow hard below you, gentle whimpers flooding the space between your lips and his own.

His large hands slide under your shirt, encouraging you to remove it. He leans back slightly, tugging his McLaren shirt over his head in one smooth motion as you remove your own top. The skin-on-skin contact sends shivers down your spine as he wraps his arms around you once more. His hands trace patterns over your skin as he buries his head in your neck. His soft lips press kisses against your skin, smirking at the jump of your pulse from each touch. "Want you to do something new for me sweetheart," He mumbles against your neck, warm lips sucking lightly as you whine, hips bucking against him. You hum inquisitively, looking down at your boyfriend.

He stares up at you, eyes wide and pupils blown. “Will you ride me?” He asks softly, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. You bite your lip at the request, nodding before unhooking your bra and throwing it to the floor. Oscar’s mouth descends on your chest, nibbling and sucking at the soft skin. His tongue swirls around your nipples, sending shockwaves to your core as you moan for him. “So sensitive, want you to make me feel good, can you do that?” Oscar asks, large hand resting on your ass as the other comes to cup the back of your neck.

“Yeah I can Oz,” You whine, tugging at his trousers. You stand from your position straddling him as the both of you remove the rest of your clothing. Oscar wraps his hand around his cock as he watched you undress, pumping himself to the sight of your body. A flush covers your chest in embarrassment yet you can’t help but admire his body. The way his muscular arm flexes with each pass of his fist, the way his throat bobs each down he swallows, the way his eyelids flutter when his thumb swipes over the tip, or the way his thighs clench in pleasure. You saunter closer to him, his hand falling away from himself.

He’s big, and thick. You hadn’t ridden him purely out of intimidation, fearing the awkwardness of being unable to take him inside you. You straddle him, feeling the pulse of his cock below your wet pussy as you grind down against him. He groans at the feeling, “So wet for me, bet you can’t wait to have my cock inside you can you?” Oscar questions. He feels the way your pussy throbs at his question. Without answering him you wrap your hand around the base of his member, sliding the tip through your folds. You grind your clit against his tip with each pass, more wetness flooding between your legs.

Oscar’s eyes close as the head of his cock slips into you, your tight walls encasing him. You whine from the stretch, his thick cock feeling impossible to take from this angle. His fingers come to rub your clit, your walls relaxing against him as you sink further and further. Eventually he bottoms out, a slight bulge in your stomach where his cock rests. He groans at the sight, “Look at that baby, you must feel so full.” You grind down against him, your clit against his pubic bone. With a hand on your ass Oscar lifts you off him, relishing the drag of your walls against his length. “There we go, knew you could take me.” He mumbles, eyes not moving from where you are connected.

Eager to cum you begin bouncing on his cock, the slick sounds of your wetness connecting you both filling the room. Oscar’s thighs are soaked with your arousal, the sticky feeling covering your own thighs with each move. His hands cup your tits as you move, mouth enveloping your nipple. You moan at the warm feeling, walls clamping in pleasure. Gentle nibbles followed by purple marks litter your chest as you whine and whimper, Oscar’s dick stretching you. He pulls you to lean forward slightly, causing his cock to hit your g-spot with every bounce. Tears fill your eyes at the overwhelming feeling, your legs beginning to burn with exertion.

Oscar’s thumbs wipe away your tears as he cups your face, “You’re doing so good for me baby, just a little longer. Wanna feel my girl cum around me.” He coos. You bite your lip as his thumb circles your clit. The hand remaining on your face pulls away only to come back seconds later with a gentle but stinging force. “Don’t you dare hide your noises, want to hear how good my big dick is making you feel.” He tells you, grinning at the loud moan spilling from your lips. You can feel your orgasm approaching, as can Oscar. His thumb moves faster as he begins to meet your thrusts, stomach still bulging each time he plunges himself inside you. Your thighs shake and your knees burn as you reach your high, head thrown back and tits bouncing with the force of Oscar’s thrusts. He chases his own high as he fucks you through yours, the sound of your slick echoing further as you soak his dick. “That’s it baby, so good. Where do you want me to cum?” He mumbles, breathless with pleasure.

“Inside me Ozzie, please. Want you to fill me up.” You moan, collapsing against his chest as he fucks up into you. It’s the feeling of your lips on his thick neck that sends him over the edge, ropes of cum painting your walls white. Oscar groans your name, holding you against his body as he empties himself inside you. The pair of you pant with the effort of your activities, cheeks flushed and skin sweaty. Oscar sits up, his cock stirring inside you as you whimper in sensitivity. Standing from the bed he carries you to the bathroom, helping you shower as he watches his cum drip down your thighs in awe.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #smut prompts #smut requests #smut writing #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 smut #op81 imagine #op81

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depravitycentral · 7 months

Text

Yandere! Uvogin NSFW Profile

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of non-con, masturbation, non-consensual aiding of masturbation (? not sure what to tag this but you'll see what I mean), excessive cum-play, snowballing, facials, stalking, kidnapping, mentions of degradation, exhibitionism, implied that Nobunaga jerked it to you I'm so sorry for your loss, kind of allusions to breeding but nothing explicit, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

HABITS:

In general, Uvogin is no stranger to sex. He’s had his fair share of hookups over the years, and while he’s never really had a long term partner (being a criminal and always on the run makes it a bit difficult), he’s got a good, solid amount of experience under his belt.

And so, while he may be intimidating and a bit scary, there’s always plenty of drunk women at the local bars or clubs who are more than willing to take their chance at managing to take him.

And for the most part, Uvogin is completely satisfied with this – hookups and flings are fun, and he’s able to get his rocks off whenever he pleases.

However, once you step into his life, his frequent sex with strangers take an abrupt and very strict hiatus. Not only does it feel wrong to sleep with any woman besides you, he simply doesn’t find the allure anymore – if he were to sleep with anyone aside from you, he’d spend the entire time focused on all the things that are different from you rather than actually enjoying the experience.

Maybe their hair is different – yours is prettier, he thinks.

Maybe your voice is different – it’s not as annoying and shrill and whiny as the other woman’s, and Uvogin can very confidently say that he likes yours much, much more.

Maybe their body is different – your curves are different, better for him, and you’re softer and warmer and just better.

Hookups are out of the question once he really decides that he wants you – but unfortunately, the same can’t be said of his hormones. He still craves sexual contact and release, perhaps even more so now that he has you to actively imagine and think of and desire, but his tried and true method of finding someone random to relieve some pent up stress isn’t an option anymore.

And so, once his obsession develops, he finds himself masturbating much, much more often.

It’s not as nice as having a living, breathing person there to help him out, but it’s his only option – you’re not an option yet, as much as he desperately wishes you were, because while he’d give anything to sink into what he’s sure is your tight, warm, soaking wet cunt, he doesn’t want to reserve the progress he’s made in worming his way into your life all for one night of pleasure.

And so, he falls back on pleasuring himself with a bit of an aid – it’s not enough to simply fist himself and imagine your body or your sounds.

No, it’s not nearly enough – so instead, Uvogin finds a way to seamlessly involve you in his self-pleasure, all with the wonderful caveat of you having absolutely no idea of your role.

Uvogin’s already reaching for the hem of his shorts as he plops down onto the ratty couch in the living room of his current hideout. He’s quick to shimmey them down, all the way down to his ankles, only to unceremoniously kick them off to some corner of the room.

His cock is already semi-hard, the knowledge of what’s coming next unconsciously exciting him. He sighs and lets his head roll back slightly, resting on the frame of the couch, his hand sneaking down the plane of his abdomen and settling lightly over his cock.

Idly groping at his balls (just soft, teasing squeezes – nothing too serious yet, not when the action hasn’t begun), his free hand reaches to the next cushion and picks up the cheap burner phone Shalnark had provided him with last week. There’s only three numbers saved in it – Chrollo’s, Shalnark’s, and yours.

With a sharp swallow, Uvogin presses on your contact listing, listening as the familiar dial tone rings through the speakers. Your voice is surprised as you pick up, a delighted little oh, I wasn’t expecting a call from you!

It makes him bite his lip, squeezing at his balls just a bit harder.

Yeah, sorry, but I was bored and wanted to hear your voice. He smirks at the soft little sound of surprise you make at that.

Oh! Oh, sure, yeah! Okay, well, uh, how has your day been?

And although you’ve said absolutely nothing even remotely suggestive, Uvogin’s cock twitches against his forearm, making his thighs tense slightly.

Good, drank some beer and watched the hockey game, the usual. I want to hear about you, though. Tell me everything about this week, yeah?

And with that, he settles back further against the couch, truly getting comfortable as you start telling him about how this week you’ve done this and that, then this, then that…

He’s not really listening, and some part of him – the part not currently imagining the way you’d look with his cock down your throat – feels guilty about not giving you one hundred percent of his attention, but as you suddenly gasp and say oh then this happened he finds himself not caring.

Soon he’s transitioning from groping his balls to wrapping his fingers around his length, careful not to hiss into the phone receiver as he slowly, almost painfully slowly brings his fist up to his tip, squeezing a bit, then bringing it back down.

Your voice is a constant through the phone, the familiar lilt and pace of your words only slightly distorted through the device, and as he slowly works himself, he closes his eyes to listen more carefully. He likes the way you pronounce things – occasionally you say his name, and his hips jerk up a bit to fuck up into his fist each time you do, making him hold in a grunt each time.

Slowly he picks up the pace, moving his wrist a bit faster with every sentence you say, letting his eyes flutter closed again while his head lolls back slightly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

He can practically imagine you here with him – the way you’d be straddling him on this couch, your soft thighs pressing against his hips, your pussy rubbing and grinding against him because you want to tease him, your hands splayed across his chest as you tell him that you want him, that you need him, that you need him to touch you and taste you and feel you and fuck you –

Uvogin? Uvogin? Are you okay? You sound like you’ve just run a marathon…

Your voice brings him back to reality, and immediately his eyes are snapping open and his hand freezes, his heavy breaths ringing through the receiver. After a beat, he swallows and reassures that he’s fine! Sorry sorry, that stupid neighbor of mine just stood outside my front door – you know how loud he breaths. Don’t worry about it, keep going. I like listening.

You seem a bit hesitant, but you keep going, and Uvogin makes sure to mute himself this time. Now he can listen to you talk and not worry about being too loud. Immediately he’s picking up where he left off, hips coming up to help fuck up into his fist, grunts and groans of your name slipping past his lips all the while you chatter on about last Wednesday.

Uvogin’s feet plant flat against the floor as he uses them for leverage to thrust up, pretending you’re perched in his lap with his cock buried between your legs, your pretty tits squished up against his chest while you gasp and moan and cry out his name, his thrusts only getting deeper and harder and stronger, the desire to truly fuck you and mold your cunt to the shape of his cock getting the better of him.

Soon he’s fully groaning out phrases into the phone, going on about how you’re so damn tight, fuck baby just like that, shit clench just like that, oh fuuuck! His hips are making an audible sound as they smack back into the couch cushions with every thrust, and with wild eyes he stares down at his lap, imagining the sight of his cock sinking into your cunt over and over, your slick spilling down your thighs and getting everything wet and sticky, the sound of his balls clapping against your ass over and over.

He's close, feeling the trace edges of his orgasm approaching, his toes beginning to curl and his abs starting to tighten and his balls starting to clench and oh –

I missed you that day, Uvogin, I wish you’d been there.

He comes with a near shout of your name, his hips pistoling into his fist as ropes of cum spurt onto his chest, his breathing heavy and uneven as he shakes, his hand trembling slightly as it grips onto the phone so tightly it nearly breaks.

You’re still speaking, but Uvogin’s not listening as he replays your words over and over in his head – you wanted him there, wanted to see him, wanted to be with him. He’s still saying your name over and over, his breathing slowly calming down as his cum slowly dribbles down his chest, and he lets a smile sit on his lips. Running a hand through his hair (still slightly stained with cum, but the euphoria swimming through his veins makes it hard to care), he swallows, saying your name one last time with a small chuckle.

Fuck, only you can make me like this, huh? You’re making me into a real loser, you know that? Fucking himself and pretending you’re here with me. God.

Soon, once he’s gotten enough of a grip on his breathing, he unmutes himself, just in time for you to finish up your report.

That’s about it, sorry for rambling! But anyways, what are you up to?

He smiles at that, giving his cock one final squeeze and licking a bit of cum off his finger.

Just wondering if you wanna get dinner tonight, how about that Italian place you were talking about the other day?

And when you agree, eventually hanging up, Uvogin can only sigh and slap his thigh.

Soon, very soon, he’s sure he won’t have to imagine anymore – soon it’ll be your hand instead of his.

Just the thought makes him groan, blood already rushing south again.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your Ass

Uvogin likes every part of you, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t have a special spot for your ass.

It doesn’t matter the shape or size – it’s yours, and by extension, Uvogin wants to touch It and squeeze it and grope it.

Constantly.

He’s generally a touchy person, both in and out of sexual contexts, and while his handsiness is often innocent regarding you, his hand finds its way to your backside much too often to be considered truly accidental.

He’s a bit fan of idly groping you, letting a hand wander down and give a playful squeeze, only to feel you jump a bit out of surprise.

(He’ll always send you this toothy grin afterwards, telling you that he can’t help it baby, it’s just right there and it’s so damn cute and fuck, if you could see it you’d understand.)

He likes to come up behind you and hug you, pressing himself directly against your backside – your heights likely mean that his cock doesn’t directly sit against your ass, but even feeling his legs against the soft area makes him lick his lips, already imagining the way the soft skin would feel under the rough pads of his fingers.

He likes to smack your ass when you walk by him – it’s always, always light, of course, just enough to startle you but not enough to actually hurt.

He likes the way you get irritated and swat at him, telling you with a cheeky wink and grin that you can always return the favor, babe.

And when you’re actually intimate with one another, this habit of his certainly doesn’t change – he’s always slapping your ass when he’s fucking you in doggy style, going on about how you look so pretty from this angle, all the while groping and squeezing at your poor cheeks until they’re nearly purple.

He’s always cupping your ass when you’re riding him, helping move you up and down with a palm on each cheek, squeezing and holding you so tightly you nearly have no control over your own movements.

He’ll fuck you in a prone bone position, all the while staring at how your ass jiggles with each smack of his hips against it, his fingers (that he’d intertwined with yours above your head) clutching onto yours even harder at the sight.

He’s just genuinely in love with the way your ass looks and feels, and although he wouldn’t bring it up unless you wanted to, Uvogin would love to have you sit on his face, letting your pretty ass be the only thing he sees as you grind and scoop and use him, letting his tongue brush across your clit over and over again all while he gets to admire.

(He wouldn’t even mind if you wanted to scoot forward a bit, letting your pussy rub against his chin while his tongue works diligently at the tight, taboo little hole you don’t normally let him touch. He’s sure it'll feel good, that you’ll enjoy it, that he’ll enjoy it, because it’s just another way to be close to you, another way to claim something of yours as his his his.)

Expect your ass to fondled and groped and smacked at least twice a day, if not more – he just can’t control himself, and surely you understand?

If you were as deeply obsessed and attracted to yourself as he is, you’d have to understand that he physically can’t help himself – not when you’re so goddamn tempting.

His mouth

Because Uvogin is such a pleaser in bed, he’s very quickly exploring the variety of ways he can utilize to get you off.

Of course, he likes the tried and true fucking, making you melt on his cock, but something about it feels a bit barbarian, a little bit too rough sometimes, even if he’s addicted to the feeling of your pussy.

Even his fingers are sometimes a little too much, just because you always tense up so much, your walls clamping down on him and making it difficult to move, the stretch from them alone feeling like the size of any of your previous partners.

Of course, he still likes fucking you and fingering you, but there’s something about using his mouth on you that he simply can’t get enough of.

Maybe it’s because it’s so much more intimate, like something special the two of you are sharing. He’s tasting the most private part of you, a place only a handful of people have ever gotten to see (much less taste), and something about that knowledge makes him swell with pride, a smirk settling across his lips.

Regardless, Uvogin takes every opportunity to use his mouth on you that he possibly can – the two of you are sitting on the couch while you read one of the few books he picked up for you and he watches TV, and suddenly he’s between your legs and pulling down your lounging shorts, looking up at you and licking his lips with a positively feral expression, murmuring that he’s feeling a little hungry, yeah?

Every sexual encounter between the two of almost always including Uvogin’s lips against your cunt in some capacity – he’s a very firm believer in the necessity of foreplay (particularly due to his size), and he spares no expense in making sure that you’re properly wet for him, that you’ve come at least once his tongue, that you’re as prepared and ready as possible in order to take him with minimal pain.

And Uvogin is good with his mouth, too – he’s got amazing stamina, and is able to stick with a consistent speed and tempo.

His fallback is to lick small, tight circles with medium pressure, but he’s always stealing glances up at you to check your facial expressions, adjusting anything and everything he think she needs to in order to get your eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He’ll start with light kisses spanning along your inner thighs and all around your core, pressing butterfly licks against your folds that are barely there and leave you wanting more more more.

He’ll press kisses against your clit, coming down to kitten lick and stare at you the whole time, a smirk sitting on his lips each time you bite your lip or keen.

He'll slowly add more pressure, building up the pace a bit too, until he’s licking shapes against your bud and occasionally sucking it into his mouth lightly, feeling the way your thighs tense up a bit around his head, loving the way your eyes flutter closed and you grasp onto the pillow underneath you.

He’ll occasionally dip down to lick long stripes along your folds, dipping his tongue in to tease your entrance, making lewd, obnoxious slurping noises just to hear you get embarrassed.

He loves it, and as soon as he gets to a pace he thinks you’re liking, he’ll stay down there for as long as it takes to get you coming, whether that be five minutes or an hour – it’s worth it, because when you get all doe eyed and shake and writhe and cream on his face, you look so fucking pretty, so perfect he can’t help but grind against the bed, anything to relieve some of the ache.

DRIVE:

In general, his sex drive is high. It’s always been that way, really, even before you stepped into his life – the thrill of combat and sex are two of his guiltiest pleasures, and he’s absolutely no stranger to hook ups.

He’s not unbearably horny, but he toes the line quite well, needing to get off at least two times a week in order to stay functional and sane.

So really, once his obsession with you forms, sexual thoughts revolving around you are very, very quick to follow.

Frankly, when he first realizes that he’s drawn to you, that there’s just something about you that he can’t seem to leave alone, he genuinely believes it’s simply a sexual attraction to you that’s messing with him. He rationalizes these infant stages of his infatuation with you as simply wanting to fuck you, rather than wanting to have you.

And Uvogin is a man of opportunity – he can’t not imagine stripping you bare and cupping at your tits, smacking your ass, perching you on his lap and bouncing you up and down like you’re just some glorified sex toy.

The images come quickly and startingly easily – too easily, really, because imagining all the different ways he wants to get you screaming his name and gushing for him really should’ve clued him in to the fact that his feelings for you go way beyond physical.

And eventually, once he decides that you’re more than just a hot piece of ass, he can’t just forget about the multitudes of nights he’s fantasized about spending hours with his face between your legs, or the number of times he’s soaked his fist with cum from merely thinking about how you’d look with your pretty face pressed into the mattress, his form caging you into a prone bone position while he absolutely destroys your tight little pussy.

He can’t – won’t – forget, and so as his obsession becomes richer, deeper, more hopeless, Uvogin’s sexual fantasies revolving around you become harder and harder to control and fight. Because really, how can he not imagine even more once he’s realized he’s in love with you?

Sure, he still wants to shove his cock down your throat and hear you choke and struggle with his girth, but now he also wants to trace his tip along the shape of your lips, to see your pretty eyes sparkling up at him with a few tears dotting the lashes, to feel you moan around him at his taste.

Sure, he still wants to bend you over and feel that perfect, tight little pussy of yours, but now he also wants to thrust softly and sweetly, to get deeper and brush against the spot he knows you like, to make you cry out his name rather than just scream and gasp.

The sexual fantasies are still explicit, but they’re more loving, more like making love rather than just animalistic fucking – and of course, once these thoughts develop in their entirety, Uvogin has to exercise an extreme amount of self-control to not act them out.

He’s painfully aware of the fact that you likely aren’t clamoring to sleep with him, partially because you’re infuriated at him for kidnapping you, and terrified of him because of his physical stature and criminal status.

He’s sure you don’t particularly want to be with him in a sexual way (though he hopes, desperately, that one day you will), and the last thing he wants is for you to be even more afraid of him, or to hate him even more.

And so, Uvogin won’t force himself onto you.

He won’t force you onto your knees or strip your clothing off of you or anything of the sort. He wants to, of course, so badly that it nearly drives him insane, but he won’t do it out of respect for you and a selfish desire to get you falling in love with him.

What he will do, however, is make it perfectly, abundantly clear that if you’re ever in the mood, he’s more than willing to oblige.

He’ll tell you, pretty much from the beginning of your captivity with him, that if you ever desire absolutely anything physical at all, he’ll be naked and eagerly waiting for you within seconds.

And that includes everything: simply using those massive palms of his to grope and squeeze at your breasts, calloused fingers gently rolling a nipple between them and listening to the way you sigh out.

(He’ll approach you with this particular offer when he knows your menstrual cycle is nearing, when you’re bloated and soar and desperate for any kind of reprieve – you need someone to hold those for ya, babe? They’re looking awfully heavy, and you’d be surprised how gentle these fingers can be.)

He’ll offer to finger you when you seem stressed, that grin of his wolfish and eager but also strangely genuine, as if the prospect of pleasuring you isn’t just some sexual urge and rather something he wants to do, as if it pleasures him, too.

(This offer is always accompanied with a rather showy wiggle of his fingers, making sure the veins and tendons in his hand are visibly flexing, just to try and entice you even more – and it works, because although you shake your head and tell him that you strongly pass, he can see the way your eyes are glued to his fingers, how your thighs press together ever so slightly, how you can’t hide the desire swimming in your eyes.)

He’ll offer to let you sit on his cock when you’re feeling lonely, telling you that he’ll be there the whole time, how you can’t possibly feel lonely when there’s literally someone inside of you, patting his groin – with pants barely holding back his straining erection – and telling you that he won’t try anything funny he promises.

(And he’ll stay true to that promise – it’s actual torture to not fuck up into you, to not bounce you up and down in his lap and feel the way your walls desperately clench down on him, but he holds himself back. Besides, feeling you slowly, slowly work your way down his length is a treat enough, each inch stretching you further than you though possible, your little hisses and whines and whimpers making him physically throb inside of you.)

He’ll even offer to fuck you when the mood feels right, telling you that he’s never left a partner unsatisfied, that he knows how to treat you, that he’ll be slow and gentle and soft and sweet, something that he means with every fiber of his being.

(At least, he’ll be all those things the first time he gets you naked in his arms – after that, anything goes. He can’t always be expected to control himself, after all.)

It’s mildly intrusive and will make you uncomfortable in the beginning, but as time passes and he doesn’t actually force anything onto you, merely offering, slowly your walls will start crumbling.

If you’re stuck with him, maybe it isn’t the end of the world if you get something out of the ordeal – you’re trapped with him, but does that mean you aren’t allowed an orgasm?

Sure he’s kidnapped you and keeps you locked away in a modestly furnished home, but is it really so wrong of you to accept the pleasure he seems more than happy to give you? Does that make you a bad person, or a selfish person?

With time you’ll start thinking no, that perhaps letting Uvogin eat you out for hours and bring you high after high wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world – and he’ll be very, very happy to oblige.

(And you can tell, too – the way he groans and growls against you makes it hard to ignore, as does the way something warm and wet and thick splatters against your thighs when he’s got you hovering over his chin.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Size Kink

Uvogin is more than aware of the size difference between the two of you.

It doesn’t matter how tall you are, or how large you are – he is bigger than you, both in stature and presence and every other measurable way. He’s a hulking figure that takes up the entire side of the dining table you share meals at, needing to wear shirts that literally fall off your frame, dominating and bigger than you in every sense of the word.

And he knows this - he’s completely aware of how you’re so small compared to him, so tiny and adorable and breakable, and when it comes to really anything between the two of you, he has a tendency to take this fact to heart, to be beyond careful in making sure that he does absolutely nothing that could ever put you in harm’s way.

Though he won’t admit it, having you hurt or afraid of him in any way is genuinely one of his worst fears, and although he knows he can do nothing to change his physical appearance, he takes care to come across as least threatening and as welcoming as possible.

And when it comes to the bedroom, Uvo is even more hyper aware, because when he’s buried inside that tight, cute little cunt of yours, his orgasm rapidly approaching, it’s almost disturbingly easy to lose control, to just pin you down and fuck the absolute shit out of you, until you’re nothing more than a quivering, split open mess below him.

He has to keep an incredible amount of focus when his orgasm looms near to make sure that he doesn’t dig his fingers into your skin too hard lest he leave bruises, or that he doesn’t fuck into you at the pace he truly wants to lest he push a little too far and tear something.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, so he tries his absolute best to keep you on top, to keep you controlling the pace and everything else in order to keep you safe and feeling good.

(Besides, he’s got a great view when you’re on top – he can see, all in the same glance, your pussy sucking in his length over and over, your breasts bouncing and jiggling, even your face all twisted up in ecstasy as you ride him as hard as you can. He’s not particularly hands-off during sex, but often he’s tempted to simply lay back with his arms crossed behind his head, content to watch your show and let your cunt bring him steadily closer to orgasm. His desire to see you gasp and stare wildly at him in shock and pleasure often outweighs this urge, however, because he almost always settles his hands on your hips and helps guide you, suddenly thrusting just a hair deeper into you and hearing your cry of a-ah Uvo too deep!)

However, that isn’t to say that Uvogin doesn’t enjoy the size difference between the two of you – on the contrary, he thinks it’s beyond cute, that it’s adorable just how tiny you are in comparison to him.

And while the fear that he could hurt you is very much omnipresent, he can’t deny how it makes his heart race and blood pump to his cock when he sees how just one of his hands engulfs your entire thigh, how you struggle to straddle him because his waist is just so muscular and wide, how your breast is completely engulfed by his palm when he roughly fondles and kneads at it.

It’s endearing in a way, how cute and small you are beside him, and even more obvious when you have your hands wrapped around his cock, your fingers not able to close completely around his girth.

Seeing you struggle so much to simply jerk him off makes Uvo smug, a smirk falling across his face while he groans, little murmurs of your name tumbling past his lips while you work at him, trying desperately to get him to come, to get him to tell you how you’re a good girl, fuck look at your hands, ngh wanna – gonna stretch out that tiny little cunt with this fat cock, you want that?

It’s most definitely a guilty pleasure, something that makes him feel big and strong and important, and in the context of your sexual relationship, there’s just simply no way to get around the fact that Uvogin quite literally towers over you.

(Especially when you’re on your knees, staring up at his imposing stature and the large, swollen, veiny cock sitting at eye level, his voice teasing as he tells you to go on, it won’t bite, I promise. Only I do that.)

Praise

Generally Uvogin isn’t particularly derogatory in bed. He’s not a big fan of degradation in general, both in and out of the bedroom, partially because he’s not a naturally mean person (aside from the criminal activity and murder, of course), and partly because he really does cherish and love you. He thinks you’re beautiful and perfect and everything he could want in a woman, and his honesty bars him from ever saying anything to the contrary.

He doesn’t want to tell you that you’re just a slut, that you’re a hole for him to fuck, that you should stay quiet and let him get what he wants – he wants you, in more ways than one. He loves you, in his own twisted, fucked up way, and he wants your time in bed together to reflect that sentiment.

And so, Uvogin falls on the opposite side of the spectrum from degradation – that is, there’s a nearly overwhelming amount of praise in the bedroom.

Comments about how pretty you are or how good at something you are constantly slip past his lips, his voice gruff and low as he tells that you look so damn pretty on your knees baby.

He’s got a compliment or praise ready for every possible situation in bed – you’re undressing, struggling to get the giant shirt Uvogin had forced you into this morning up over your head? He’s chuckling, grinning, slapping your ass and telling you that you’re so damn cute, princess, makes me go crazy when you wear my shit.

You’re kissing him, pinned below him with your wrists over your head? He’s licking his lips as he pulls back, planting kisses against your neck and telling you that you taste so good, you’re so fucking pretty.

You’re biting your lip and carding your fingers through your hair as he sucks and playfully bites at your nipples? He’s burying his face between your breasts and vigorously shaking it, laughing and telling you that these tits are so perfect babe, god I always wanna touch ‘em and kiss ‘em, how about no more bras around the house? Or maybe no more shirts at all – don’t expect me to control myself, yeah?

You’re sinking to your knees while he sighs and grabs the base of his cock, running his tip over your lips while he stares down at you? He’s telling you that you look so pretty babe, can’t wait to see these lips with my cum on them instead.

You’re perched on his lap, his tip barely nestled inside you while you wince and bite your lip? He’s running soothing hands up your sides, cooing at you that you’re doing so good baby, ‘m so proud of you, fuck you’re tight, feels so damn good.

You’re on your hands and knees, chest and face pressed in the mattress while he mounts you from behind, hips flush with yours and pummeling into you with no mercy? He’s leaning all the way over you and growling into your ear that you’re mine, babe, fuck don’t you ever forget, god this pussy is so good, y’so damn tight and wet, gonna make me come baby, you want that? Yeah? You want my cum?

You’re underneath him, tits bouncing every which way and body physically thrusting back and forth as he fucks into you with a sturdy hand pressing right over your naval? He’s laughing breathlessly, using his free hand to push back his hair and telling you to take it baby, fuck yeah just like that, you look so damn hot like this.

Even when he’s in the middle of coming, thick spurts of white shooting from his swollen, red tip, he’s praising you – telling you that you take him so well, that you always take – fuck, take it all, look so damn pretty with my cum in you.

He just genuinely believes that you’re beautiful, and because he’s naturally quite talkative, this shows in the bedroom – he can’t not comment on how you look, how you feel, how smell, how you taste.

It would be wrong to not let you know how much he’s enjoying being with you, how badly he’s dreamed of fucking you, or how long he’s dreamed of touching you – so really, even if his constant praise embarrasses you, you’d best get used to it. He won’t stop, and if you were to return the favor?

Well, his ego isn’t particularly fragile, but he can’t deny how it affects him any time you moan out about how good he feels or how big he is or how you’re close – oh god, ‘m gonna come, oh god Uvo Uvo Uvo-!

He can’t deny the way his cock jumps, how it twitches and pulses and oozes out precum at just hearing your voice and words, hearing his name and feeling the way your body seizes up all because of him him him.

He’s a sucker for it, so expect sex with him to be loud and full of compliments – even if they’re a little vulgar sometimes (fuck babe, these tits – I wanna fuck ‘em, get them all messy and covered in my cum fuuuck-) or oddly specific (god you taste good, those panties of yours don’t even come close…).

He just can’t help himself, so get used to it – he won’t stop, even if you beg him to.

Cum play

He’s possessive, and it shows in the bedroom.

He’s always got a hand on your body, hickeys bruising your throat, collarbone or inner thighs, handprints decorating your ass, or even a light bite mark here and there along your thighs and stomach.

He likes the concept of claiming you and physically showing that you’re his, and while this presents itself in normal ways like previously mentioned, Uvogin’s favorite form of showcasing that you belong to him is by getting his cum absolutely everywhere on your body.

He produces an insane amount of it with every orgasm – it just keeps coming, spurt after spurt shooting from his swollen tip and landing on your body or the sheets underneath you, all the while he’s groaning and his hips are involuntarily thrusting, making everything even more messy.

His orgasms last easily twenty seconds, with a constant stream of white, and Uvogin loves nothing more than to absolutely paint you with it.

When your hands – so small and cute and soft compared to his calloused skin – are wrapped around him, pulling and tugging, the slick sound of spit and lube clicking in his ears, he’ll give a warning of here it comes, shit baby take it – and immediately your hands are covered in it, pools of cum dribbling down onto your fingers, slipping down your wrist and leaving everything sticky and wet and warm, Uvogin’s chest rising and falling with both the force of his orgasm and the sight of his cum against your skin.

(He’ll always grab your hands afterwards, slipping your fingers into his mouth one by one and licking away his cum, only to kiss you afterwards and push it all into your mouth, entertained by your surprised sound and the way you squirm against him.)

When you’re struggling to fit him into your mouth, only able to take the first few inches and leaving your hands to deal with the rest, he’ll dig his fingers into your hair and hold you there, biting his lip and telling you to swallow every last fucking drop, don’t wanna see any wasted babe before letting go, listening to the way you gag and eagerly swallow everything he’s giving you.

He’ll pull away with harsh breaths, watching the way you eagerly suck in air, your lips wet and glistening with spit and cum, your tongue still painted a white color.

(Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly possessive, he’ll instead pull back right before letting go, telling you to stay sitting on your knees while he stands, fisting his cock at a near inhuman speed before pointing it right at your face, letting go and watching as ropes land across your cheeks, nose, lips and forehead, your entire face streaked with him in a way that makes his knees weak. Often, he’ll shake his cock a bit right at the end, eager to get every little bit out and onto you, groaning in satisfaction when the last, weakest little spurt lands right on your outstretched tongue. He’ll lean in closer and smear the cum across your skin even more, his voice sounding genuinely awed as he tells you that you’re so damn beautiful baby, fuck, get on the bed, I need to fuck you. Now.)

He loves to have you take his cock between your breasts, regardless of their size – he wants you suckle on his tip and rub your skin against him, feeling your pebbled nipples and the soft plush.

When he gets close, he’ll pull back and finish himself off, having you lay on your back while he straddles your waist, painting your breasts white and paying special attention to smear it across your nipples, pinching and twisting and pulling at them.

And even when he’s actually inside you, his penchant for being picky about where his cum goes doesn’t change – nine times out of ten he will come inside you, pushing his hips all the way the hilt so that he can finish as deeply as possible, the groan he lets out sending pleasure racing up your spine.

You can often literally feel it inside of you – something warm and wet filling you up, his cock spasming with every spurt, his balls clenching and tightening against your ass as he whispers your name under his breath.

(Most of the time, there’s simply too much to keep inside of you – it just never seems to end, and eventually there’s some dribbling out of you, smearing against your folds and dripping down the curve of your ass, sometimes even leaving a small pool against the bedsheets. Uvogin is equal parts proud and irritated when this happens, though – proud because god, you look perfect with his cum leaking out of you, but irritated because all of that really should be inside of you, not wasted and sitting on the bed. So, he'll scoop it up with his fingers, pushing it back inside you and fucking it up into you until he’s satisfied, the wet shmucking noise making him grin.)

Sometimes, though, he’ll pull out right at the last minute and instead come onto your cunt, letting the white settle against your inner thighs and coat your folds, leaving everything in a layer of opaque cream as he growls out your name.

He’ll often have you keep your legs spread even after he’s finished, moving closer to peer at his handiwork, getting so close and staring so hard that you inevitably get embarrassed, especially when he uses both thumbs to spread your folds and watch the cum dip down inside, even a few drops dribbling down inside you, the sight making him inexplicably satisfied.

Really, Uvogin just likes seeing you with his cum – whether it’s on you or inside you, he will find a way to incorporate it – it helps quell his possessiveness, and he can’t deny that the sight just looks so right, like something carnal and primal and natural.

(Unfortunately, though, he is a bit sensitive about you trying to clean it up – he often won’t let you shower after sex, telling you that it's better if you keep it on you or in you, and if you were to complain about it, he’ll just grab a pair of your panties and force them up your legs, the mess he’d left between them soaking into the fabric and making them damp every time you sit down or move. Again, don’t try to fight it – you won’t win, and Uvogin will often reach down between your legs just to ensure that you haven’t cleaned up – it’s a waste, he’d say, and he knows his girl isn’t wasteful.)

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Overstimulation

In general, Uvogin loves to please you.

He’s by no means submissive, but there’s something about bringing you pleasure and watching you fall apart for him that gets him harder than he’s ever been, all the blood rushing to his cock so quickly it nearly makes him dizzy.

He just loves the way you look on the brink of an orgasm, how you look at him with such wide eyes and need, how you clutch onto him and chant his name over and over. He likes how your hips twitch and jerk in his grasp, how he has to physically hold you still so that he can keep his tongue working over your clit or his fingers thrusting into you.

It’s addicting, honestly, in some ways even better than his own orgasms – and so, Uvogin finds himself making it a priority every time he gets you naked that you find your high, unwilling to stop until you come at least once.

And that’s really the key – at least, because any given sexual encounter with Uvogin generally results in you having at least three orgasms. He absolutely loves to overstimulate you – watching you come is one of his favorite sights, those dark eyes of his always hyperfixated on your pretty face as you fall apart, and the face you make when he doesn’t stop?

When he keeps his fingers on that cute clit of yours, still rubbing and pressing and making you feel good even as you gasp and whine about how it’s too much?

Well, it makes Uvogin grin, pearly teeth on display as he tells you to take it baby, be a good girl for me, yeah?

He likes the way you squirm and beg for him, your legs shaking like crazy and your abdomen visibly clenching and unclenching.

He likes the way you get so sensitive and grasp onto him like he’s your lifeline, pushing him to get you off twice, three times, four times, sometimes even five in a single session.

Of course, he likes seeing you pleasured, but there’s a bit of selfishness at play too – because when you’re holding him so tightly and moaning out in that perfect voice of yours please – please Uvogin (he’s not sure whether you’re begging for him to stop or for more – and he suspects you’re not sure either), how can he not feel utterly self-satisfied?

How can he not feel like a good lover, not feel like your dependence on him is growing more and more with each orgasm?

He views it as a good way to simultaneously get you a trembling mess for him and to also solidify your growing feelings for him - plus, he gets to lick his fingers clean of your wonderful taste while also getting to sink himself inside your soaking wet, twitching, hypersensitive cunt already practically milking him for everything he’s got…

It doesn’t take him long to come after that, and the sight of you exhausted, twitching, and leaking thick, white globs of cum is positively droolworthy.

Femdom

But in a very specific way – you’ll never be truly in charge in bed with him, if only because there’s not a single submissive bone in Uvogin’s body.

Sex with him is under his terms and conditions, but he’s generous enough to care about your pleasure and your desires, too.

That said, Uvo is incredibly entertained by your attempts at dominating him – it’s not necessarily hot or attractive, but it’s incredibly endearing and sweet, and serves to make his heart melt and his cock swell with the knowledge that eventually he will be shattering this fragile illusion of control you’re creating.

He likes when you get on top of him, your poor hips struggle to straggle the expanse of his own, his cock pressing harshly and insistently against your ass while you bite your lip and steel yourself.

He likes the way you try to move his arms over his head forcefully (you aren’t actually moving them, even if you think you are – he’s letting you, manually moving them for you, letting you believe that you’re doing it when it reality it’s all him), seeing the way your eyes light up and your thighs squeeze around his hips tighter.

He likes the way you lean down to kiss him, your tongue rushing into his mouth, your kisses noticeably more aggressive than usual but still nothing particularly dominant.

And yet, Uvogin lets you take the lead, letting you control the pacing, the angle, everything just to maintain this illusion of dominance.

He’ll let you tie the blindfold around his head, limiting his vision but not hindering any of his other senses, conveniently forgetting to mention to you that he can still feel your every breath, hear your every movement, practically taste what you’re going to do next.

He’ll let you slowly sink down onto his length, pulling back every few moments to tease his length and leave him wanting more.

Uvogin will take it all in stride, entertained at the way you try to be dominant and in control, only to shatter it once he decides you’ve had your fun, once you pull off of him one too many times and leave his cock wet, throbbing and needing your pussy so badly it hurts –

It’s not hard to rip his wrists out of the dingey bindings you’d placed them in earlier, fingers immediately digging into the plush of your hips to force you back down onto him, setting a brutal pace combined with his own thrusting hips and moving your body up and down so that every brush of his cock into you leaves you gasping, panting for air because it’s all so unexpected and he’s just so deep and big and god…

You can try being dominant all you want, because he finds it entertaining and endearing, but know that at the end of the day you will be the one at his mercy, your body simply his to toy with and tease as he sees fit.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

It's no secret that Uvogin is possessive – you’ll learn this from the very moment you become aware of his feelings for you. He firmly, whole-heartedly views you as his, just as he is yours.

And in the context of your sexual relationship, this mindset of his is only more apparent, more blatantly obvious with the way he clutches onto you and tells you how much he loves his little pussy between your legs, the way he leaves bruises on your hips and ass from smacking you or holding on just a bit too tight while he’s fucking you, or even sinking his teeth lightly into the flesh of your shoulder so that you’re marked as his.

It satisfies the intense desire he feels to keep you by his side and away from everyone else, all with the added benefit of getting you writhing and moaning his name.

And so, most of Uvo’s fantasies in the bedroom tend to branch off from his possessiveness – specifically, while it would be unlikely to happen, he desperately, desperately, wants to fuck you in a semi-public space so that his fellow Troupe members can hear.

He wants them to hear you screaming his name, your pleas and cries sounding like music to his ears and showing them exactly who gets to touch you, who makes you feel good, who’s allowed to dump fresh, potent cum in your cute little hole.

It makes him giddy, genuinely, excitement brewing in his chest because he loves the idea of publicly claiming you, about making sure that everyone knows that you’re his, that every part of you belongs to him.

He likes everyone knowing that only he gets to touch you and make you moan and scream, that it’s only ever his name that’ll be leaving those pretty lips of yours.

Plus, this fantasy fulfills that possessive urge without actually letting other people see you – he can’t stomach the thought of any of his fellow Troupe members actually seeing your naked body or the way you look at the height of your pleasure – Shizuku can’t ogle like she does, Shalnark can’t fist his cock to the sight of your tits bouncing, and even Franklin can’t swallow and ghost a hand over his crotch at the sight of your body taking his too-big cock.

It’s perfect, a fantasy that he’s harbored since the early days of his infatuation with you – and while it’ll take a while for him to actually act out, he wants nothing more than to utterly claim you all while his friends can hear.

“You gonna scream for me baby?” Uvogin grunts, his hips snapping into yours just a bit harder.

Everything feels like too much – he’s holding you up against the wall, the cold brick digging into your back just mixing with the onslaught of pleasure his cock is giving you, bullying its way inside you and leaving you clenching down on him with every thrust. He’s so big – stretching you out nearly past your limits, making you drool and moan and shake, thoroughly destroying you long before he’s even bothering to reach for your clit.

You’re a mess already, and Uvogin knows it. It makes him smirk, staving off his own orgasm in favor of making sure he fucks you just right, just to make sure the rest of the Troupe can hear you on the other side of the wall.

“I can’t hear you.” He growls, burying his face in your neck and biting his lip to hold his release at bay. It’s hard to – you’re so damn tight and warm around him, and each time he pushes just the tiniest bit deeper inside you, you squeeze up like a vice, massaging and pulsing around him so well that it makes his knees weak.

“Fuck, Uvo Uvo Uvo Uvo -!” You’re chanting his name, the words slurred together and sounding strained, and it only makes him thrust into you harder, enough force landing on each push of his hips that it physically gets you bouncing, even mid-air.

He can hear faint, muffled talking from the other side of the wall, and it only makes him bare his teeth, lightly biting the shell of your ear. His fingers dig into your thighs, his grip on them firm and tight.

“Shit baby, tell them who’s fucking you like this,” He starts, only to cut himself off with a groan when you clench down on him particularly hard. His hips stutter for just a moment, and you claw at his back at the sensation.

“It – it’s you, Uvogin!” Your voice is strained and slurred, and it makes Uvogin grin.

“Who’s cock is this perfect little pussy taking? Who’s it belong to, huh?” His voice is gravely and deep, husky and making your toes curl as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Uvogin Uvogin Uvogin!” You’re practically screaming at this point, and he hears a dull thud from the next room over.

He barks out a laugh and buries his face into your neck, forcing his hips to go faster, harder, deeper, anything to get you louder.

And it’s working – you’re physically trembling, hips twitching and jerking wildly in his grasp, a non-sensical slurry of words spilling from your lips that make his heart and cock ache, each sound you make sending him closer and closer to his end.

“Tell me what you want baby, fuck fuck fuck, tell me where you want it.”

“Inside! Please Uvo, inside, need it inside me –“ You’re blabbering, but he doesn’t mind. A finger comes down to roughly press circles against your sensitive clit, and your reaction is immediate – you tense up, every muscle in your body seizing up as the pleasure mounts and mounts, his hips never stilling and drilling into that spot inside you over and over and over again –

You come with a scream of his name, your cunt fluttering wildly around him, squeezing and pulsing and massaging him in a way that gets his knees scarily close to buckling, his own orgasm right on the brink as he presses you even tighter against the wall, leaving no space to breath as he literally fucks you into the brick.

“Don’t you dare stop,” He warns you, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust.

Another loud bang comes from the other side of the wall, and Uvogin freezes for just a moment as he hears the faintest sound of panting, of someone cursing under their breath, of something muttering out an oh fuck…

He comes with a loud groan of your name, spurts of warm, thick cum settling inside you and making you cry out again, the sound music to his ears. A muffled groan sounds from the other side of the wall, and pride swims in Uvo’s gut as he watches you try to recover, your body shaking and your lips all swollen from biting them. He kisses you, hard, his tongue slipping into your mouth immediately, before helping you stand on your own and paddle to the bathroom to clean up.

Once the shower starts running, Uvogin sighs and slips out the door, walking into the other room with a smirk spread across his lips. Feitan, Phinks and Nobunaga all look at him, the first with a disgusted look, the second with a noticeable blush, and the third with dazed eyes, clearly in the aftershocks of his own pleasure.

Uvogin laughs, settling a hand on his hip. “Like what you heard, huh?”

Nobuanga nods, Phinks’s blush only settles deeper, and Feitan snorts.

Uvogin’s smile drops at that, his nen flaring up. “Too bad you’ll never even touch her.”

His cock twitches at the mere thought, and soon he’s sliding open the glass door of the bathroom, pressing your chest against the tile wall, determined to see if his friends can still hear you over the sound of the rushing water.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere uvogin #hxh smut #_hxh #_uvogin #_lee's profiles

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rusmii · 3 months

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ps. me when writing this 😐. i feel sorry for my incubus!chuuya wanters waiting for his return, so im breaking my semi hiatus js for you guys <3 after this you guys HAVE to wait until feb 14th.

incubus!chuuya x fem!reader

THINKING ABT INCUBUS!CHUUYA...

bringing up an aphrodisiac in the middle of your conversation, the smooth chocolate shell of the bar reflecting your shocked expression from his offer.

you relent and give in, excited to try out this new method of sex with said incubus. chuuya only breaks off a piece, giving you the rest of the bar to eat. when questioned why, he smirks and explains to you that incubus are naturally horny — thus making the tiny piece of chocolate equal to two full aphrodisiac chocolate bars.

it doesn't take long for the aphrodisiac to kick in. it's effects starting to take toll on your body as you swallow the last bite — watching as chuuya now eats his piece.

after ridding your guys' stripped clothes (chuuya still with his pants on for some reason), chuuya has you spread open beneath him, his hot breath fanning just above your folds. his already twitching dick up and hard for you.

he starts by licking at it, the sudden long strip that ran across your pussy to your clit was enough to send your body into jolts. but what a tease he was in this unfortunate situation you agreed to! he doesn't go any further past your flaps — a breathy chuckle hot on your cunt whenever he laughs at your whines.

oh, he knows what you want — the writhe of your body wasn't so subtle. the little twitches here and there, the clutch of the sheets whenever he dips his tongue in between your folds just a little bit, the annoyed sigh you let out when you don't get the relief your body needs — all of it thrilling and sending waves of dopamine through his brain.

"just a little longer, sweetheart? promise to finally eat 'ya out if you let me savor 'yer taste." sweet, sweet words coming from the incubus' mouth. sweet, sweet empty promises coming from the incubus' mouth. his slow swirling tongue making sure to flick your clit the right way, cutting off any voice of thought that was sure to be replaced by a moan.

protesting against his demands, your thighs start caving his head in as a last-ditch effort. chuuya clicks his tongue in annoyance, shoving your legs apart and moving away. "nah, stop that shit," he tuts disappointedly. "but chuuya!" — "want me to eat 'ya out, then wait like a good girl and let me foreplay."

you groan, foreplay was usually a need in sex, but you weren't feeling particularly patient tonight. the aphrodisiac making its course through your bloodstream had made it harder to focus. every little twinge of air or hot breath that left chuuyas mouth was leaving your senses all tingly.

without waiting for an answer, chuuya shifts atop of you — his mouth now on your clit, using his tongue to apply just the right amount of pressure.

giving your clit a few more swirls, chuuya grips your thighs to keep them in place when your body starts twitching from the onslaught pleasure. your hands found its way into chuuyas hair, the groan he let out sent mini vibrations coreing around the lower half of your body.

and with a final pop, he plants a kiss on it before dipping his head further into your legs.

you gasp; finally. finally, you feel it — his tongue moving past your folds and into your cunt. whining his name, the grip on his hair only kept getting tighter. at the same time, chuuya groans. shit — you were so fucking wet for him. beautiful arousal dripping down his chin and onto the sheets as his jaw flexes.

"chuuya, chuuya — chuuya!" his name being the only thing your voice could remember to say was sending tingles down his body — his dick twitching up and down from his own arousal.

your slippery entrance being easy to enter, his tongue wiggling itself inside along with two fingers. hearing your strained moan when he curls on that one spot was enough to have him give in and do whatever you wanted from that point on.

he pulls out his fingers, replacing it with his extended tongue. the long piece of flesh surprising you. an unexpected thing to feel but you weren't complaining when chuuya was swirling his tongue inside your cunt.

chuuya wraps his forearms around your thighs, mushing your wet pussy against his mouth. he groans when he's able to taste everything — your arousal being slobbered everywhere by him, his nose right on your clit making you feel every breath he let out.

his tongue moved freely inside you. the long piece of flesh deep and fast — rubbing against the spot that makes you squeal and squirm.

not being able to vocalize any praise, chuuya rubs soft soothing circles on your upper abdomen. the act barely noticeable but subtle enough to help ease you up.

feeling your approaching high, you squeeze your thighs as a warning for him before your body starts twitching uncontrollably. chuuya doesn't let the spasm of your walls stop him though, only going faster and faster — your arousal making a puddle underneath you guys.

fuck, such a treat you were. lewd and explicit noises coming from your pussy as he ate you out were just him slurping up everything your cunt had to offer. his energy and hunger fading with every new ounce of arousal seeping into his mouth.

the final and long awaited cat-like arch formed, your legs now kicking up as your body quivers uncontrollably.

with a final wide swirl of his tongue, you start squealing — unintended blabber escaping while chuuya is blasted with a burst of your sweet, sweet cum. he tilts his head in a way to capture every single drop, not leaving a single drop to be wasted in the cute puddle you made.

his tongue still swirling gently, slower and slower as you come down from your high — until you were moaning from overstimulation instead of your climax.

when chuuya felt like he drunk up every last ounce of your cum, he pushes himself away — his lower face wet, slick, and sticky from your cream. he had a smile on his face though. an ear to ear grin staring down right at your dazed face.

"such a good girl. you deserved that orsgasm for feeding me so well. just need to fuck the rest of the aphrodisiacs out of our systems now don't we?" he suggests as he starts unbuckling his belt.

taglist (comment on there if u guys want😋): @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani

ok guys no more smut till feb 14th <3

BELONGS TO @rusmii DONT STEAL >:((

#i wrote this shit at 4am cause i couldnt sleep forgive me for any errors #[ৎ୭ 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠]#chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #chuuya smut #chuya x reader #chuya x you #chuya x y/n #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #incubus!chuuya #incubus!chuuya x reader

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ma1dita · 7 days

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love me dry

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.5k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he meets you at his mother’s house, though both of you didn’t expect the other to be there. A glimpse into May Castellan’s perfect day (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: sorry for the hiatus! been on the study grind and didn’t even notice, but i’ve been working on this for a bit! macbeth references (comment if you catch them/or ask and i’ll yap) and slight suggestive stuff under the cut—but anyways let’s just say the prophecy by taylor swift came out at the right time.

(posted 4/19/24, semi-edited)

—

The drive to Westport has become almost an afterthought in these past few years— in the way you unconsciously reach for your favorite hoodie on the way out the door or tuck in your chair before you leave a table, almost automatic but ingrained with a touch of care. With letters to May Castellan occupying your passenger seat instead of the boy who wrote them, you’d make the drive multiple times but stop short just before the property line. It took months of parking at the bottom of the hill and just watching the sun set on the little house, so clearly being able to imagine a smaller version of him running around and wreaking havoc.

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze. His mom must’ve watched him play by himself through the bay window before calling him home when the clouds covered the horizon, wispy tendrils stretching over the rain gutter like how lovers hold hands. It must’ve reminded her a lot of his father, leaving nothing but the open air in his wake. Still, all of this was familiar to you too—despite having never stepped foot in the white house.

But knowing Luke meant knowing his home like it was a part of you.

The old hatchback’s engine gently rumbled against the quiet of the property each time you visited, and May would wait for you to come near— waiting for you to be ready to walk into a mausoleum of the boy you both once knew. You were familiar to her too, even as a blurry figure hunched over the steering wheel. She’s seen your face in the small glimpses between the shattering earth of her reality and the hazy foresight she lets herself succumb to remember what her son looks like. In every vision of him since he’s left, you’ve been there; and something about that quells the pain and anguish that it brings to her body when she sees it. But May Castellan is ever an observant woman, gift of prophecy aside. A mother always knows.

It also turns out that she makes excellent conversation over a plate of slightly singed chocolate chip cookies.

—

Luke Castellan is years older than the version of him that last sat at this kitchen table. He doesn’t know if he’s any wiser for it—wondering if he’s made a mistake in coming back here after all this time as he watches his mom hustle around the kitchen that’s suspiciously sparkling clean. A silver spoon clinks against the glass pitcher that May stirs mixed berry Kool-Aid in, his favorite, he remembers, and it makes him squint against the light that filters through the gauzy curtains of the windowpane above the sink. Luke could’ve sworn that there used to be badly patched rips in the fabric, but he attributes it to the dark corner of his memory he still hides away like a secret. Sitting there and taking it all in, he wonders what it would’ve been like to actually grow up here—to stay, for once.

But that’s something he doesn’t have the privilege of knowing. When his mom turns to hand him a glass with her shaking hands, wrinkles and laugh lines are mapped across the expanse of her face. He’ll never know how they got there. The wooden chair creaks under him, groaning under the weight that he carries and Luke once again feels uncomfortable in a place he once called home.

“Knew you’d come back. A mother always knows,” May mutters, voice disembodied like she’s floating just out of reach. Her hands clasped over his, rubbing her thumbs over the veins as if she’s checking his pulse (or the possibility of him being an apparition) and the crack in her smile mirrors his. But this isn’t the home he remembers—his frontal lobe was underdeveloped back then and the only plan it could form was the one to get him the hell out of Westport, there’s something different in the details. Tiny things, like the patio swing chain reattached to its post, a mended table leg, and ceramic tiles on the countertop unbroken and smooth. This is a home and a mother he once longed for as a kid, along with the feeling of comfort and safety you can only attribute to a place like this. Calculating eyes scan the perimeter of the kitchen, but no one knows he’s made the trip to Westport, not even his own crew. Surely nothing could mess this up for him, not here. This was his last step before his quest for redemption eats away at his physical body, and then it will all be out of his hands.

There’s not much left for me here, he thinks— there’s not much of me left here, either.

Then Luke hears you before he sees you—the sound of you humming under your breath mixed with the jingle of keys turning in the front door. With bags of groceries leaving marks on your arms and a soft smile he hasn’t seen you wear in ages, for once you look lighter again. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind that this must be what you look like when he’s not around. Nonetheless, he breathes easier when you’re near. Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

“Yeah hon, I’ll have to call you back,” you laugh into your headphones before tapping them with one free finger to end the call. In a split second, your eyes meet. Staggering back at the sight of him sitting at the table and the absolute grin on May’s face, you decide to continue into the space ahead and start putting the groceries away like nothing is out of sorts.

“I see you have a visitor, Miss May. Is he staying long?”

Luke sips at his glass, juice extra tart just how he likes it. His lips pucker at the taste it leaves in his mouth and when he opens his mouth there’s a hint of blue. You try not to look too long.

“For the night,” he answers, even if you weren’t talking to him, but it makes May so vibrant with the notion of him not running again that she instantly hops to her feet and rushes to make the bed in his old room. “I won’t be in your way,” he swallows. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, but move around his chair without touching him—further proving that Luke is, in fact, an obstacle you must overcome. He’s a stranger in his own home and you’ve found yourself at ease in it. You wonder if any of that will make a difference in the long run.

“She’s…”

“More peaceful. I’ve been practicing with my dad, so I do what I can to ease her fits but I’m not exactly equipped to lift a curse from Hades,” you mutter through a bitten lip. Luke stares at you but it feels nostalgic, like someone on the outside looking in. Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

“I don’t think I even remember the last time she made sense while talking to me,” he laughs hollowly. You purse your lips and shrug, “I visit her every two weeks. She still has her triggers, and she gets confused but she’s not in pain. Your letters helped.”

“Is that why you came here then?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” you joke feebly. It falls flat and yet he still smiles, even when you say, “They weren’t for me.”

“They were about you. All of them were.”

You know that too. May makes you read them to her before bedtime as you stroke her hair and send her off to Hypnos. You’ve relived your relationship with Luke a million little times, and he’s written about you and all of your yesterdays like it was the only glimpse of Elysium he’d ever reach. In those letters, you get to remember the good parts of being in love—laughing in the empty amphitheater, holding hands under the dining table, sneaking kisses in the strawberry fields.

You used to understand each other so well: every dream, every feeling. But there is nothing you understand about the man sitting across from you now. The both of you sit at the kitchen table and there is nothing more to say.

Luke doesn’t have to stay. While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

There was nothing more to say.

—

He knows it’s too good to be true when moments later May’s screams carry through the halls of the little house, down the stairway you’re currently clambering up to reach her. By the time his boots reach the second landing, he finds the two women he loves most in a huddle against the linen closet, his mother’s glowing green eyes and empty groans rattling him to the bone. If he were any smaller, he’d be shaking. Even now he doesn’t know what to do— feet frozen as he watches you brush her curls away from her face and lull her to solace.

“Can’t find Luke’s sheets—he needs the Toy Story ones…” May mutters as she rocks on her heels, “My boy needs to be home…He’s meant to be home!” Her fingernails are cutting into your wrists and then she silences with a wave of your hand.

“He’s home, Miss May. He’s right there,” you whisper. When your eyes look at Luke, you watch him crumble—the cracks in his fortitude tumbling like fallen rocks at the sight of the two of you and then you see him. The boy you met at 14 who was angry at the world for making him run away from his mother and the hands of fate until it crept up to snuff him out for the sake of a prophecy foretold by deities who will never understand what it’s like to be human. But there are no second chances, and there is nowhere left to run. “He’s here for you. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

“I see it, the two of you together. The worst will be over soon, and then it’ll all make sense,” she says breathily, licking her lips and straightening herself like nothing happened. Even after you send her off to prepare a basket for the beach, Luke doesn’t move when his mother pats his arm and walks around his body and towards the stairs. Neither of you speak until your fingers touch his jaw lightly, and Luke doesn’t know if you’re trying to help him or inspect him. He tilts down to look at you anyway.

“She thinks we’re still together.”

He blinks. Somehow that’s the most shocking thing he’s heard today. Fate is most definitely cruel and fucked up because he never expected it to be like this—once upon a time he hoped he could take you home to meet his mother when everything was said and done; no shackles from Titans or pressure from the gods. It was supposed to be different.

“The letters probably didn’t help as much as you thought they would then,” he mumbles, calloused hands guiding your hands over to his swiftly beating heart. You scoff, “Neither does bringing up my boyfriend. She thinks it’s you.” He’d believe anyone who’d say they watched you yank his heart out of his chest with that statement, everything bloody in your hands. It’s still yours, even if you don’t want it.

“Kit?”

You shake your head and shrug, “That was forever ago. But he treats me well.”

Luke wants to ask more but by the tension in your shoulders, he knows not to push. He’s not entitled to know anything more than what you give him. It’s not his place anymore. So his brow furrows at your next suggestion.

“Just pretend, Luke. For the day, so your mom doesn’t get agitated. I’m not asking for much here.”

It’s a terrible, terrible idea—even you know that. But you both have always been good pretenders. Liars, a voice corrects in the back of your mind. You reason that it’s for May and insist upon that fact, even if the heartbroken girl you left at Camp Half-Blood is raging at you from deep inside the recesses of your mind that you hide her in. What’s one day with him compared to the many you’ve gone without? You don’t need to know the rest of why he’s here, or what more he’s going to do— and you don’t ask.

Not knowing has always hurt less.

—

You’ve forgotten how good Luke is at playing the part of a good boyfriend. He offers to drive to the beach, carries the picnic basket and blanket for you all to sit on, and listens intently when May asks about your college classes. There’s no discomfort in the way he holds your hand as you walk in the sand or dusts your feet off before laying them across his lap. It’s easy to laugh at his bad jokes, it’s easy to act like the boyfriend you describe is anything like him (even if he’s the complete opposite), and it’s too damn easy to fall into the familiar rhythm that is you and Luke. The three of you lay down as the spring breeze covers you from the rest of reality, hiding away from the truth of a broken woman and two ex-lovers. By late afternoon, you find yourself enjoying it, and it’s cruel how the guilt isn’t rolling off you in waves, instead longing for him to follow you anywhere.

He meets you by the shoreline with both of you waist-deep in the water. May’s collecting seashells but she turns to look at you two every so often like she’s framing this memory in her fragile mind. Without saying it out loud, the both of you hope it will hold.

“She always talks about you, you know? Even without trying,” you mutter as saltwater pours from your fingers to the valleys made by the veins in his forearms. It’s like initiating touch without the consequences of actually doing it, and he immerses himself in the feeling as it spills over him, feet rocking against the tide.

“I do too. Can’t help it.”

When the sea ripples once more pushing you against the wall of his body, you end up holding on, and he doesn’t let go. You both smell like salt and sunshine, pressed together and nothing has made more sense. The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

Your shirt is stuck to your skin in the surf and Luke’s hands brush over the waistline of your underwear, daring to reacquaint himself with your touch and spur a reaction from you. You may be the best actress he’s ever known but anything is better than watching you be complacent with the false niceties of the day.

“There isn’t much worth knowing.”

“I’d never say that, Luke,” jaw tensing, you let out a breath when his hands encircle your hips, hidden in plain sight in the deep of the ocean. He chuckles and the sound tickles your brain to remind you it's the type of laugh he spits out when he’s hiding his anger, “There’s a lot we’re both not saying.” Your name slips past his lips, sneaking past your defenses and hitting you head-on like a bullet.

“Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping his mother, why aren’t you actively fighting and turning him in, why are you letting him hold you if he’s only going to leave again—there are too many questions and only one clear answer.

“Because it’s out of our hands, isn’t it, Luke? You love your mother but you wouldn’t have come here unless it’s too late. Annie told me you went to see her in San Francisco.”

He was never here to make amends or save face. There was no version of him that was going to ask you to run away with him because he knows you deserve more than always running from fate. He’d do it all over again as long as you got this— the life you’re living with your college degree, your boyfriend, and your happy family— and Luke has no place in that.

A dry laugh bubbles from his throat, sticking like seafoam when he says, “You hate San Francisco.”

You wouldn’t have come.

—

By the time you get home for dinner, your skin is sensitive and tingly from the heat of the sun. May’s tracing circles into the back of your hand as she leads you up the patio steps. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that makes you sway against the doorway.

“Too much time having fun,” she mumbles, patting your cheek, “Take a cold shower dear. Join us when you’re ready?” Luke’s eyes follow you all the way up the stairs and then again, he’s left to his own devices.

Most of the said shower was spent thinking about what your friends would say about you for playing house with the enemy. The guilt felt like ice along your spine, paralyzing you for wanting to be selfish, to choose what makes you happy even if it fucks the rest of the world. But looking in the mirror afterward was scarier—you recognized the girl that stared back at you as someone you thought you’d never see again. A version you left behind years ago, with her head held high and so sure of herself with your Luke by your side.

Surely, there’s no harm in indulging in this vice for the rest of the night. Not when you haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

Dinner is being served by the time you make your way back downstairs. It’s a simple dish you taught Luke how to make back at camp when you raided the kitchens at midnight. Nothing special, reminding you of your own home—but the fact that he remembered makes your smile widen as you take a seat and promise to wash the dishes. Luke chuckles the type that makes his eyes crinkle in mirth once he watches you dig into your meal, knees brushing under the table like old times.

Everything feels easier after that.

“Today was the best day,” his mother mutters as you tuck the covers under her chin. May kisses both of your cheeks before she shuts her eyes and you gently fold the letter she chose tonight back into her nightstand for safekeeping. This time, you read her the story of your first kiss with Luke sitting at the foot of her bed in the dim light of her room. It’s less scary here than he remembers, but maybe it’s because this time there’s no screaming and him running to hide in the closet. Your voice is much more pleasant than those suppressed memories, immersing you all in a more pleasant one— the both of you in the amphitheater kissing on the stage with his hands in your belt loops. Luke could recite every word on that page if it meant he could go back in time, not with Backbiter but with you, just to live through that moment again. I think I’m falling in love with her, is how the letter ended but by then he already knew. Writing it down to tell his mother always made it real.

This, you, right here—everything is real.

He’s silent even as he watches you smoke through the cracked window of his childhood bedroom, and you’re surprised when he steals a puff. His hands are shaking under the moonlight and suddenly it’s clear that he’s scared. Everyone feels fear, but in all the years that you’ve known him, Luke Castellan has never let you see it.

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of.

“Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off.

Lose myself.

Lose you.

Luke coughs as the smoke enters his lungs, a momentary rush hitting him brought by the nicotine. Your hands go to cup his jaw as you set your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to just be honest if there’s truly nothing left to lose.

“I’m out of time, trouble. It’s out of my hands.”

Shuddering at the feeling of him tracing every ridge of your spine, you think the way he says your nickname sounds like the way he used to say I love you. It’s raining outside now, the harsh pitter-patter of wet drops drowning out the sound of your voice, “What can I do? Is there anything left for me to do?” When his head shakes, your noses brush, and your breaths intermingle, almost magnetic. Perhaps the rain is getting in from the open window and you feel it hitting your cheek until you see the shine of his eyes.

“You think I did this because of you. I know you do, but you need to know I did all of this for you, trouble. I choose you and me. Every time,” Luke gasps, intertwining his fingers with yours, the both of you pushing and pulling in this embrace like the moon with the tide.

“Luke…”

You’re pressing yourself against him, face hidden in his shirt as your brain catches up to your heart, hasty breaths and every atom of your being screaming to be held together by him and then you’re on him, through tears and clenched fists tumbling towards the tiny twin bed. The only way he likens himself to his father is his yearning to be a true traveler, but what he knows best out of anything in this entire world is you. He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you.

But then why does this feel so good?

Warm palms caress your waist, nudging your shirt up in the hopes that this will be enough compensation for all his misdoings—the tears you’ve cried, the anger you’ve felt, the things you had to do and will have to do because of him. Luke is someone who’s gotten comfortable with manipulating time, but time has manipulated him and all of his plans for the both of you. Sleepy setback bedroom eyes meet his own that glow in the gentle light of the lamp on the nightstand. Maybe if you pretend again his childhood bedroom can turn into the star-speckled darkness of cabin 12. You can just lay down and tuck underneath his arms waiting for him to fall asleep. But he stays up this time, making you hiss at the feeling of his lips against your neck.

“We can’t… Angelface,” you say breathily, still leaning into the trail he marks across the valley of your collarbone, “We’re not together anymore.”

A kiss is placed on your pulsepoint, knocking against the cord of your necklace.

“We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”

Another kiss rests against the warmth of your forehead.

“We’re on opposite sides of a war… You’re my enemy.”

Finally, his lips meet yours, for a moment as if to test the waters.

“Not tonight,” he says, and there is no other option but to agree. There is a lifetime to make up for in a night, and fuck it—they’ll crucify you anyway. You were never meant to be a hero, that’s what he always wanted. You just wanted him. Your head hits the pillow and he looms over you until you’re pulling him in for more than what’s necessary to accept an apology.

There’s nothing left to lose.

—

Before your mind can wake up dreading the consequences of last night, your socked feet take you to the kitchen to clean up the mess you’ve both left behind. The old floorboards creak underfoot and there’s a method in the way you’re washing the dishes, hot water and soap starting to seep through your shirt sleeve but you choose not to notice. Scrubbing at the dirt and grime left behind on the porcelain until your fingers start to prune, a lump forms in your throat before you can stop it. Maybe if you scrub hard enough at the glass that Luke drank out of last night it can eventually be clean. But it’s taking you longer than you thought, jaw tensing and fingers turning white at how hard you’re holding on. May appears behind you, guiding your hands away from the scalding water, and though you resist— the glass drops into the sink and shatters with a loud crack.

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel.

You see him in her too.

“His fate is greater than the cards he’s been dealt with. You know that.”

It’s the clearest and most sensible May’s spoken in days. Perhaps when it comes to Luke, she’ll always know better. Eyes darting elsewhere to fight the tears that brim at your lash line, you look down at your swollen hands, palm up towards the heavens almost imploring, “Why couldn’t it be me?”

The question’s direction is unclear and you don’t expect to get an answer, turning away to grab some ice from the freezer and she remains standing there—staring at the windowsill at a compass that’s now found its home next to the faded picture of a man who’s left more times than there are reasons to stay. Just like his father, she thinks, a small smile quirking at the side of her lip where a scar would meet her son’s. Clicking it open delicately like how she used to hold his hand, there’s a photo of you and Luke resting against the cover ripped away from a memory frozen in time.

“It is you,” May says quietly, though you’ve already left the room.

A mother always knows, after all.

—

“Aphrodite,” I pleaded to the moon-drenched night sky. “Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?” From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh. And I knew. -Nikita Gill

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan fanfic #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians

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makeyoumine69 · 7 months

Text

Painkiller 2

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: You begged Patrick for a good fuck, and who is he to deny it to his sweet little girl?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, pet names, degradation (reader is called some names), Daddy kink, dirty talk, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), pregnancy sex/kink, creampie/breeding kink, semi-public sex.

— WORDS: 1.5k

— A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus in posting, I'm still trying to restore some energy, but I hope you enjoy this little piece of text!

— LINKS: [Previous part] [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

"Now you be a good girl and keep those pretty lips of yours quiet." Patrick drawled, his eyes ablaze with wicked intent. He lowered his head, pressing a fierce kiss on the side of your neck.

Trembling, you gasped breathlessly as your inner walls clenched around nothing, yearning for his hot, rock hard flesh to be inside of you.

“Patrick,” you murmured, pulling him closer, your taut nipples were visible through the thin material of your hospital gown. “I… I want you.”

"You needy little slut," Bateman hissed, his eyes fixed on the tantalizing sight of your hardened little peaks, then he leaned down to capture one nipple with his teeth, biting down gently through the fabric, eliciting a muffled whimper from you. "I'm going to fill you up, babydoll," he promised in a dark whisper. "Every fucking inch of you, until you're dripping with me."

With his free hand, Patrick began to fumble with his belt, every nerve on edge with anticipation, his dick aching with desperate need, bulging against the tight confines of his Armani pants.

"Mmhm—Daddy," a muffled moan escaped your lips, your hands clinging desperately to his strong biceps. "I w-want to give you as many children as you want."

Shaking like a leaf, your body desperately longed to be claimed by him again and again, a feeling even stronger than despair — belonging to him was as vital as breathing air.

“Oh, you have no idea what you're in for… Do you, honey?" Bateman taunted, his voice low and possessive.

Patrick couldn't help but groan as the heat of your hands threatened to burn right through the fabric of his expensive shirt.

"Do you really like seeing me pregnant?" You wondered as you sensed his long, thin fingers playing with your tender flesh. "I'm so nervous about gaining so much weight, Daddy." Your voice was tinged with embarrassment as he removed your hospital gown.

"Like?" Patrick rejoined, a devilish chuckle rumbling from his chest. "Damn, dollface, I fucking love seeing you pregnant." His words were infused with raw desire, his gaze sweeping over your swollen form with predatory intensity. The sight of his seed blooming in life within you was a heady combination of possession and power, a tantalizing cocktail that sent his nerves ablaze.

Carefully, you got down on all fours on the hospital bed in front of him, your legs already trembling with sweet anticipation from what about to come. "I need you so much, but please don't hurt the baby."

"Don't worry, darling, Daddy knows just what he's doing." His words hung in the air between you two, possessive and domineering.

Then without further ado, Bateman plunged his throbbing length into your heat, his low groan echoing off the walls of the room. With skilled control, he began to move against your shivering, little form; his grip retaining a firm hold on your hips as they moved to the rhythm of your shared lust. The sensation of your soft inner walls beginning to clench around him, already coaxing gruff moans from his lips. This was where he belonged, buried deep within you, imprinting himself onto every fiber of your being.

"It's so deep… a-awww," you whimpered, and then you had to bite the pillow to suppress all the lewd sounds as you were desperately doing your best to take him in completely. "Daddy, p-please!”

"Oh, sweetness," Patrick grunted in response, pleasure clawing its way up his spine as you tightened around him. Gently, he traced a single manicured thumb in circles around the small of your back, the reminder to be careful tucked safely in the back of his mind. "You like it deep, don't you? Like feeling me fill up your slutty little pussy?"

The potential of being caught only seemed to add an extra dose of adrenaline to your veins, the thrill of it making your hearts practically thud in their cages.

"Now hush," Bateman ordered with a sharp thrust of his hips, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Don't want the good doctors to find out how much of a slut their patient is, do we?" He quipped, his fingers tightening around your hip as he continued his relentless pace; his other hand came down to rub teasing circles around your clit, his aim to drive you as crazy with need as you drove him.

Panting, you leaned on your elbows to minimize the weight on your pregnant bump. The fear of damaging the baby couldn't really let you relax and enjoy the moment of intimacy you were sharing, but you kept quiet, only the sounds of heavy panting and flesh hitting flesh filling the hospital room.

"I w-want you to make me pregnant again, Daddy…" You mewled against the pillow, gripping it as hard as you could from the overwhelming sensation of being so full.

Why was it so hot? To be claimed by his seed, even though you were already pregnant, you had a wicked desire to be bred again and again.

"God, you drive me fucking insane, honey," Patrick groaned as your pussy clamped around his cock once more, truly testing his control. "Give you another one, huh?" He snarled, the sound echoing off the stark white walls of the room. "Fine… a-argh… I’ll spill my fucking seed inside you again…" He growled, losing himself in the fierce desire to mark you in the most intimate way possible.

Nothing was as intoxicating for him as the glazed look in your beautiful eyes, the satisfaction of knowing he would paint your insides with his seed, claiming you as his again and again. Even in a twisted world such as his, this was his greatest conquest, a show of dominance and possession that only spurred his desires further.

As you felt his pounding getting rugged and sloppy, you clung to his hands on your hips, gasping quietly in delight. "Cum for me, Daddy, please, c-cum for me!" Bateman couldn’t hold back it anymore as he spiralled into a blinding crescendo of pleasure, releasing his seed deep within you and keeping you close like a predator trapping its prey. Even though you didn't reach your high yet, you felt elevated by the blissful sensation of his warm liquid filling you from the inside. With a muffled sigh, you turned to look at him, but you couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness, though you knew how smug and arrogant he might be right now, so you decided to continue playing this game, boosting his ego even more.

"Gosh, it feels so good," you purred, spreading your legs wider as your own hand began to work on your feverish, little bud. "But I need you more."

Bateman leaned back, momentarily lost in the obscene picture you painted. "Uh, do you?" He teased, his words laced with thinly veiled lust as he maneuvered himself to his knees, the movement causing ripples in the muscles of his sculpted abs. "You want me to taste you, babe?"

With a smirk, Patrick dove right in, his tongue dipping into you with a harsh swipe as he tasted you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he feasted. The taste of his cum mixed with your own flavor was intoxicating. God, he would never get enough of you.

Whimpering obscenely, you pressed your face against the hospital bed, your insides ready to burn from pleasure as his masterful tongue knew exactly what to do, drawing invisible lines along your delicate petals, forcing you to soak so hard — you could feel your juices running down your inner thighs, but Bateman was immediately cleaning it up with his eager mouth.

"Ah, Daddy," you were so close and yet so embarrassed at the thought of someone outside hearing what the two of you were doing. "Please, please, please! I love you... I love you s-so much!" You almost wept, praying that you wouldn't get caught and that he wouldn't punish you for not being a good, obedient girl like he wanted you to be.

"You sound so pretty when you call me Daddy, sweetheart," Patrick moaned against your soft flesh, his voice a saccharine poison dripping into your ears. His tongue slid back up your slit, slower this time, the flat of it pressing against your bundle of nerves with agonizing restraint. "I'm not done with you yet." He warned, his tone foreboding as he dived back between your thighs with renewed energy, his tongue darting in and out of you in rhythmic motions.

"I'm cumming, D-Daddy, a-aww, I'm cumming," a quivering yelp escaped your half-open lips as you clutched the sheets of the hospital bed, your legs shaking in his tight grip. "Pat-Patrick!"

Paralyzed, you forgot how to breathe as your inner muscles began to spasm around his tongue, the sensation was so intense, so overwhelming — the knowledge that you belonged to this man completely and irrevocably was as astonishing as rain in the dry desert. After all, you wanted to carry as many children as he wanted, and the idea of being a tradwife for him didn't seem strange to you anymore.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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sillyrabbit81 · 8 months

Text

Cold

Prompt: Slow & Romantic, Cock Warming from @florxdexcerezo (x) Thank you so much for sending the prompt in. Sorry its taken so long.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 600

Warnings: Smut, cock warming, p in v sex

Authors Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago, but wasn't feeling up to posting it. I'm still on semi-hiatus, going to be a couple of months more at least, but here is a thingy I did. Hope you like it. Thanks to @nashibirne for reading.

Edited by me, there will be errors

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Celebration Masterlist

Your eyes fly open. A heady rush of adrenaline pumps through your veins as your hand slips under the pillow on the empty side of the bed and curls around cold steel. You keep your breath slow and even as if you're still asleep and listen carefully.

But you’re too late.

A firm hand covers yours and a heavy, hard body traps you beneath it.

“Don’t scream,” he says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You loosen your grip on the pistol and allow the hand to take it away. In the dark, you hear the thunk of the gun being placed on the nightstand.

“You could knock,” you point out.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“And yet, here we are.”

The weight on top of you shifts and you think you can just make out a small smile on his moustached face. You reach for the lamp, but he stops you.

“Leave it off,” he says.

“August, please,” you whisper. Your hands cover his whiskered cheeks briefly before he shakes you off.

“Leave it.”

He stands. You vaguely see his outline as he removes his clothes. He’s moving stiffly, slowly and breathing in soft grunts and rough exhales.

“How badly are you hurt?” you ask.

“Nothing so bad that a good night's sleep won’t heal,” he says, dismissively. Sometimes it scares you how easily and smoothly he lies to you.

“Then why are you here?” you ask with a rueful laugh. “The last thing you ever do here is sleep.”

You see his shape pause. You stare at where you assume his eyes would be, he needs to know you aren’t stupid; that you know this thing between you won’t result in a ring on your finger or a pretty white dress.

The longer he stands there unmoving, the harder it is to keep looking into the darkness. What is he thinking? You open your mouth to ask, but close it with a small shake of your head. It's not like he’d be honest anyway.

He starts to undress again. You lay back in bed. Does it really matter if he’s here to fuck you or sleep next to you? You’ll give him what he wants, you always do. You can’t help yourself.

He slips into bed, curling himself around your naked form. His hands begin a long exploration along your hip to your ribs and back again while his face is buried into your neck. You can hear him draw rough, ragged breaths, his mouth is so close to your ear, his lips graze along its edge.

Driven by a primal instinct, you arch your back, lean against him and open your legs in an invitation that needs no explanation. He doesn’t hesitate and quickly you feel the smooth, warm head of his cock sliding over your folds, gathering your wetness before sinking deep inside.

By the same instinct, you begin to roll your hips, relishing the feel of his length as your pussy glides over him. But his hand clasps your hip and holds you still, your ass and back pressed firmly against his chest.

“When I’m gone, I dream of this,” August whispers, “of being inside you.”

“Then please move.”

“No,” he growls, “I need to be inside you. All night.”

You moan and he throbs deep within you. His nose presses into your hair, his arms wrap around your chest, holding you tighter and tighter until you think he’ll crush you.

“You’re so warm,” he whispers as he softens his hold on you. “I need you to keep me warm. I’m so fucking cold without you.”

#rabbitsmilestone23 #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fan fiction #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker fic #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #august walker x you #august walker fanfic #august walker x reader #august walker x female reader

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eventideluminary-games · 4 months

Text

It is finally spring again. The grass is growing, birds are singing, and it's the perfect idyllic day to have your sister's coronation! You hoped everything would go well. It did not. In under 10 minutes, you went from being your sister's heir to your sister's killer. Or so your kingdom suspects, considering they're now on a manhunt for you. You have to figure out who really murdered your sister and fast, but be careful. You're not quite sure who you can trust these days...

ON HIATUS

Under the Eyes of Themis is a current WIP and new interactive CYOA novel, with a focus being on the characters, their interactions with each other, and their storylines. It's inspired by many JRPGs/RPGs. It's being written in Twine.

This is my first interactive novel, so I'm learning the coding as I go along with graduating university this year, so updates may happen randomly. But I will try to stay active and give the occasional update when possible!

Note: Because this is still a WIP, some names of characters or places may change! But feel free to send asks or anything!

Genre: Mystery, Romance

Rating: 18+ (sexual content, language, extensive talks about death, a semi(?) graphic death scene (i'm not good with rating graphic gore sorry), etc)

Tracked Tags: #under the eyes of themis, #eyes of themis, #uteot

Demo (1/19/24, ver 2.1.0) || Romance Options || Side Characters || FAQ || Tag Navigation || Pintrest

In Under the Eyes of Themis, you are taken to the fantasy medieval-esque world of Runnet. Here, you play as the youngest child of the Diamant family of the Grasslands kingdom. Your older sister, Adalia, just happened to be born 10 minutes before you, which makes her the heir to the throne. Not that you seem to mind anyways.

The year is 1344 and the winter has recently melted away into spring, the favorite season for those in the Grasslands kingdom. The former queen, your mother, has passed away about a month ago. As your mother's heir and the oldest, your twin sister, Adalia, is coronated as queen, summoning emissaries and people from all places to recognize her as Queen of the Grasslands.

At the end of the coronation week, Adalia is poisoned and killed during the last feast. As you try to grapple with the loss of your twin, you are suddenly accused of poisoning your sister, a maid having found the vial hidden among your clothing.

You are chased out of your kingdom and manage to get help from the other lands in the area. You and your group travel across 8 lands to clear your name and figure out who framed you and killed your sister before you're arrested for a crime you didn't commit!

Play as a male, female, or non-binary Royal

Customize the way your Royal looks in the story. Will they keep their natural look or decide to change it while on the run?

Your Royal has a semi-set personality in the beginning, but you choose how being on the run affects them

Explore the world of Runnet and the 8 lands situated on the continent

Choose to romance 5 different companions: a fun and flirty Prince, the not-so-ladylike-Lady with a penchant for picking fights, the brightest Scholar of the land, a shy Farmer's daughter, or the loudest Assassin you've ever seen (or heard)

Chase leads, find clues, and talk to locals to figure out who poisoned your sister and who's framing you

The Accused Royal - You! (player determined)

You are 24 years old. You are the youngest child in the Diamant family. You are a prince/princess/princep. You have an older twin sister. You can choose to be male, female or nonbinary. You can choose your first name but your middle name is set.

If you play as a male, the middle name is set to: Florian

If you play as a female, the middle name is set to: Floriana

If you play as non-binary, the middle name is set to: Flor

Appearance: player determined. It's said you resemble your mother most, in terms of facial structure. Female and Non-binary Royals have the option to be identical twins with Adalia.

The Queen for a Week - Adalia Elcina Diamant (she/her)

Queen Adalia is better know to you as your twin sister. She is kind and nice, if not a little bossy. She would've made a wonderful queen... It's a shame she drank all that poison.

Appearance: player determined. Has the option to be identical twins with a female or non-binary Royal.

The Crown Prince of the Woodlands Kingdom - Alceste Claudius Emeraude (he/him)

Alceste is a 24 year old man. He is the crown prince and heir to the Woodlands kingdom. Alceste is flirty and fun-loving. He likes to tease the Royal and especially, Larisilla. He is the oldest of 4 children and consistently entertains the group trying to break the tension. He seems to have a problem with taking things seriously, but behind his playful attitude and flirtatious charm, you can see something darker swirling around in his eyes. Wonder what that's all about...

Appearance: Alceste is about average in height (5'8) and has smooth, blemish-free olive skin. He is average in terms of his body, not quite muscular but not lean either. He has a bit of a chubby stomach and still retains some of his baby fat. His hair is dark brown and looks fluffy. His eyes are dark green, similar to the woods that surround his home.

The Future-Lady of the Dustlands' Council - Larisilla Cornaline (she/her)

Larisilla is a 23 year old woman. She is the daughter of the first Head of the Dustlands' Council. Larisilla is not what is expected of a lady, finding more joy in picking fights and training with her swords than learning about politics. She is uncharacteristically serious and always wears a permanent frown. She has the tendency to rub people the wrong way, being blunt and, often, rude. Still, Larisilla will always stick up for you, so it's good she's on your side... Right?

Appearance: Larisilla is a tall woman, standing at around 5'10. She is muscular and has tanned skin dotted with beauty marks. Her frame is elegant in nature. Her eyes are a dusty red, reminiscent of the mesas of her homeland. Her wavy brown hair is short, cut into a shoulder-length bob. She typically ties her side-fringe back with a cord of leather.

The Head Scholar of the Palmlands' Scholar's Hall - Dionys Topaze (he/him)

Dionys is a 26 year old man. He is the leader of the famous Scholar's Hall, located in the Palmlands. As expected, he is polite and intelligent. Dionys is kind and eloquent. He tends to be quiet while other are speaking, but will gladly entertain you on the various areas of his study. He is said to be the Brightest Scholar of the Palmlands, a title which he doesn't really like. Dionys has the tendency to accidentally speak down to people, but he doesn't mean it. You're lucky Dionys' current area of research is law...

Appearance: Dionys is a very handsome man. He is tall at around 6'3 and lean, not as visually muscular as the others. He has smooth dark skin and long braided black hair that falls to his waist. The braids are decorated with golden clips and charm. His eyes are gold as well, reflecting the dunes present in his homeland. He has a pair of gold rimmed glasses he sometimes wears for reading.

The Farmer's Daughter of the Fieldlands - Somnia Disthene (she/her)

Somnia is a 25 year old woman. She is a humble farmer's daughter from the aptly named Fieldlands. She is a bit shy and quiet, but don't get it mixed up; she isn't scared or afraid. Somnia is a bit intimidated from all the important political people in the group, but she is insistent upon being helpful. She has a wealth of practical knowledge, notably that of a seasoned healer. You're grateful she's eager to help you, so you ignore her questionable slip ups. After all, who else would have the knowledge of making poison...

Appearance: Somnia stands at about average height (5'4). She is heavy-set/fat with the muscles and strength of a woman who has been working fields since she could walk. She has light skin smattered with freckles and long loosely curled blonde hair falling to her mid-back. Her eyes are light blue with bits of grey speckled in them, similar to the rivers that run through her homeland.

The Assassin of the Floelands - Enyo Perle (he/him) or (she/her)

Enyo is gender-selectable. They are 22 years old. They are a spy from the northern Floelands. They are loud and full of energy, quite different than what you would expect from a supposed assassin. They are eager to please and a bit naive, unaware of most things happening in favor of playing with their knifes. Enyo is open about their job as an assassin. Despite the group being a bit wary around them, Enyo does the best to fit in. But is it enough? After all, an assassin's still an assassin...

Appearance: Enyo is about average in height (5'7), if they are male, and short (5'3), if they are female. They have a slender form with no visible muscle definition. They have clear pale skin. Their hair is black and straight falling to their mid-back. M!Enyo keeps his hair tied into a ponytail while F!Enyo braids hers. Their eyes are a light grey, almost white in color, mirroring the snow abundant in their homeland.

#interactive fiction #if wip #if game #interactive novel #interactive story #text based game #under the eyes of themis #uteot #eyes of themis #twine interactive fiction #twine if #twine game #twine wip #twine story

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veras1ne · 9 months

Note

♟️ 🍒 WITH ANI PLZZ

“Insubordinate.”

Hi angel! Sorry I took so long on this request, took a short mental break hiatus because I’ve had a lot on my schedule and it’s caused me to force a break on myself but I’m back and I’m here with your request :)<3🦢

Special thank you to @anisbaby for giving me silly little notes on this and basically being my beta reader LOL

Find my prompt lists here! They are divided into smutfic prompts and fluffy prompts!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: Dealing with jealousy was not a strong suit of Anakin’s, and seeing you with another man very close to him was certainly a recipe for a hot disaster, but in the end I think you’ll find it was more of a beautiful disaster.

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🪷: Your media consumption is NOT my responsibility, these are your warnings for the following: Jealous sex, semi-public, forbidden relationships, squirting, cum eating, PIV, cunnalingus/eating pussy.

🫧Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/AFAB!Reader

Your laughter pierced through the garden of the Jedi temple. While working there, you became familiar with many of the masters and padawans alike, enough to even form a relationship with their most prized knight, General Skywalker. He often visited your quarters, and you would spend long hours in his company chatting about anything and everything, sharing stories of the war as it unfolded.

What blossomed as a small friendship bloomed into watching the sunrise and taking warm showers holding one another. It was love at first sight. You just couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of you.Your thoughts were constantly clouded by the feeling of his lips on yours and the heat in your chest when your eyes would meet.

One thing you knew about Anakin was how he felt about competition, and more specifically, jealousy.

Although he knew that there was no other person or creature in the system that could compare to the love that you felt for him, his heart twinged whenever he saw you with another, smiling and laughing in the way that only he made you feel happy. In his mind, he should be the only one to make you feel the butterflies he puts in your stomach and the way your lips fit so perfectly like puzzle pieces.

Even with others he knew very well, like Master Kenobi, his mind couldn’t help but wander as he caught the two of you conversing in the gardens as you were working on planting a new flowerbed.

Your giggles took him back to reality as you looked at Obi-Wan, smiling as he was telling you about something Master Yoda had said earlier that day. "Master Yoda always finds a way to amuse me, but enough about him. I hope the Sun has not been too harsh on you today, yes? I take it you and my padawan have quite the relationship; I always catch the pair of you chatting about,” He playfully suggested it, giving you a sly smile. You turned your head, setting down the shovel, and smiled. "Master Kenobi, you know Anakin and I are just friends. I’ve been working at this temple so long that he’s practically a brother to me." You dusted your hands on your apron, wiping the dirt and clay off and onto your clothes, and moved to the next spot you had dug out before Master Kenobi got your attention.

Anakin’s face fell slightly when you said that, ignoring that Jedi were not supposed to have romantic feelings for others in the first place. "Ah, of course. Well, I must attend my class in order to train the younglings. Hopefully they haven’t been causing any havoc in the gardens recently." He waved his hand dismissively at the following conversation, quickly moving on. "Of course not; have a good session, Master." You smiled and waved goodbye, turning your attention to the abandoned flowers, not realizing the footsteps coming from behind you.

You turned to greet the presence and froze. Anakin’s face was flushed with jealousy and, ultimately, rage. Normally he would put situations like these behind him, but there it was, his deep blue eyes burning holes into you. “Oh, please, don’t let me disturb you. I wouldn’t want my friendly presence to cause you trouble." His words spat like heat from a fire, scorching your skin and causing you to scoff. “Ani, you know it isn’t like that at all; I just didn’t know what to tell him. I don’t want to mess anything up for you." Your voice lowered to barely above a whisper, knowing he couldn’t hear you despite being right beside you. “Please, Anakin, let’s just leave it alone; you know I would never do that to you." You pleaded softly, trying your hardest to keep yourself together.

Anakin shook his head and smiled. "You can call me your friend all you want, but I didn’t think that being just friends meant that I fuck the shit out of you every night and make you scream my name." His hand drifted to your waist, pulling you in to whisper in your ear, "You know that Master Kenobi couldn’t fuck your pussy as good as I can." The words sent chills down your spine as he ran his teeth along your neck and bit the lobe gently.

Your mouth hung open as if you were shocked by his boldness. A low growl rumbled from deep within his chest, sending goosebumps down your arms and causing your entire body to heat up and send fireworks through your fingertips. His grip tightened ever so slightly on the flesh below as he trailed kisses across your cheek.

His breath ghosted against your lips, sending shivers up and down your spine. "Anyone could catch us here, and yet you still want me so bad, don’t you?" You whined as he kissed you, needing to feel his naked skin on yours. Anakin, please. Don’t play these games with me." His hand slipped beneath your apron, caressing over your hips, fingers grazing against your pants, teasing your sensitive nerves.

Your knees nearly buckled under you, and you whimpered against his mouth. His tongue danced around yours and teased you with light strokes.

All you could feel was his hot body, his touch, his scent, and his taste. He lifted your body to rest on his hips, capturing your lips in a kiss and backing into a door, jiggling the doorknob, and walking into the nearest empty room. "You look so divine when you’re out working. Even if you’re all sweaty and dirty, a little grime never hurts anyone." You jeered at his comment, making a face of disgust: "Maker, Anakin, you’re gross." He smiled at you as he set you on the table in front of you, saying, "I don’t think you’ll be saying that after I eat out this pussy. I want to see you cream all on my face, baby." Your breathing grew heavy as lust filled his gaze as he stripped you from your heavy apron and made short work of your dark pants and underwear.

His hands gripped your hips possessively as his thumb traced your folds while his mouth worked to suckle you, earning a loud moan.

The need for his touch had taken control, driving you crazy, and you pushed his head closer to your chest. The feel of his warm tongue swirling over your clit caused you to arch back and thrust your hips forward involuntarily.

Your hands gripped the sides of his head, pushing further towards the center as you moaned louder and louder each time he licked harder, the slurping of your juices causing you to be taken aback in pleasure as he arched you towards your release. Your nose scrunched as you tugged on his hair, eliciting a moan out of his mouth as he pinned down your thighs, causing you to stop squirming as they shook. He was relentless in his attack, and you could feel your orgasm rippling through.

His teeth lightly grazed your entrance as he slowly sank his tongue back inside you, licking away your cum and juices as you gasped in pure ecstasy. He continued for a few minutes, sucking and playing with your clit until he stopped, kissing the inside of your thighs and coming up from your pussy, his chin glistening from your cum and liquids.

After his tongue had left you and you were able to catch your breath, you reached your arms up to cup his jaw as you gazed into his eyes. "Thank you, baby." Anakin smirked before removing his robes and belt, "You know nobody else could ever fuck you like I can." His voice was snarky and vile, his dark blue eyes staring at you almost as if he had something to prove as he pulled out his cock and positioned himself at your entrance, sliding into you slowly with a soft groan. Shortly, you were moaning underneath his thrusts and begging for more of his touches.

Once again, he placed his lips on yours as he picked up the pace and moved his hips faster, creating sparks between your bodies that made you squirm on the table. "Thank you so fucking much—thank you, Ani." You moaned out in a whine as he tweaked with your nipple, eliciting a shock through your body, which translated to pleasure. You clutched onto his shoulders as he continued to move faster, your legs shaking beneath him. You came in a rush as his thrusts hit your sweet spot, as well as a few spasms in his cock as he chased his own high.

You cried out once more as he continued to move his hips rapidly into yours, the overstimulation bringing you to another orgasm, this time your liquids spraying on your partner, soaking your bodies in your release as he came inside of you, the both of your cum dripping from your pussy as he wiped it with his fingers and stuffed his cream back into your wet hole. "Put your pants and apron on. We’re going to take a little stroll back to your quarters," he commanded, handing your garments to you as you obeyed him.

Taking your hand, he helped you get back to your feet as he wrapped his robe around you, leaving him in his undershirt and pants.

The light of the sun made you squint as you looked outside, your attention being redirected as Obi-Wan coughed next to you, his face filled with disgust and recognition, but no words were exchanged.

“Hello Master!" Anakin smiled at him cheerfully and waved as Master Kenobi walked past, trying to avoid the mess between you and Anakin. “Anakin." He dismissed Ani with a nod, walking off and trying not to laugh as he sensed your embarrassment once you slapped Anakin’s arm. "Anakin! What happened to being inconspicuous?" He smiled at you, holding your waist, and said, "Just a reminder that I’m the only one you should be touching yourself to at night." His pride struck a chord with you as you scoffed.

"You really are gross."