(successfully) failing to stay exes with michael kaiser ۶ৎ
꒰ summary ꒱; you were over at his house for one reason and only one reason — to return his hoodie. kaiser acts like his usual self and gets to have his way with you .ᐟ
꒰ content/warnings ꒱; 18+ kaiser's toxic and manipulative as hell, dubcon(?), mentions of slapping, breeding, fingering, sadism, overstimulation, not fully proofread
"knew you'd be back, schatzi," kaiser spoke casually, a weak smile playing on his lips as if you didn't look ready to throw a punch his way any second. he was still eager to joke around, even after everything he'd done to you? it disgusted you, yet you still found your attention drifting to what looked like faint dark circles under his eyes.
you'd been on his doorstep for about 5 minutes prior, contemplating knocking. the only thing that kept you from thinking for another 20 minutes were the brutal winter winds. the singular scarf you'd brought along with your outfit wasn't close to sufficient and you reaaallyy didn't want to risk catching a cold.
the one and only reason you were at this godforsaken house was because you had one of his hoodies you needed to give back to him. you couldn't stand another moment having it anywhere near the vicinity of your house.
you watched kaiser's eyes trail down your figure, easily catching the sight of your poor clothing choice for the weather.
"its snowing." and if the sight of him acting like the both of you were buddies didn't piss you off enough, that sure did.
"great, you've got eyes," you scoffed, irritation palpable.
it was surprising to kaiser seeing you genuinely annoyed. when the both of you dated, you accepted being nothing more than a doormat to him. catering perfectly to each of his whims with a smile, even. having you practically snarl in response to his words surprised him, to say the least. it made his heart ache a little — just a little. never more than that. he knew he fully took advantage of you, but he never thought to see the day you looked at him with such contempt. it wasn't worrying to him, though. he knew he could have you wrapped around his finger again whenever he pleased.
"no need to be so pissy, meine liebe." and the nickname made you clench your fists impossibly harder. it made you think back to to the days he'd call you that like second nature.
"i'm just here to give this back." you held up the article of clothing, frustration evident in the way you shoved it in his face.
he leaned his broad body against the doorframe, watching your display of annoyance with a glint of condescension in his eyes.
"come inside." he reached out to collect the garment, noting the way you held it like it was revolting.
"and why would i do that?"
"i wasn't asking," he shot back almost immediately, throwing the hoodie over his shoulder.
"okay, and i have the right to refuse." it was admirable, how set you seemed on not listening.
"you look ready to freeze to death and i'm not exactly in the mood to clean up a body."
you raised an eyebrow. "are you usually?"
he let a light chuckle slip at your retort. "don't be smart."
you turned, fully prepared to leave.
"please." it was spoken so quietly you nearly missed it.
kaiser never begged, anyone knew that.
but whenever he did, it made you soften. he knew that too.
you turned, the plead dragging a long sigh out of you. "what do you want, michael?"
"you- just you," he blurted out. you were well aware the aching sadness in his expression he was giving you was probably fake, yet it didn't stop you from folding ever so slightly. (completely)
"you can't expect me to-" you were cut off by a gentle tug, kaiser's much larger arms finding their way around your waist to embrace you, and for a moment, you really didn't want to move.
"michael, don't..." you trailed off when your gaze found his, taken aback by his teary-eyed expression.
"please, y/n, stay," he begged. his voice dropped to a gentle whisper, his grip on you tightening. you'd be lying to yourself if you said it didn't affect you.
every look was calculated, every word thought through, all of this effort solely to trap you back in his life. he was pure evil.
"i've been a mess without you," he admitted, his voice wavering just the right amount to make you soften.
"come in for just a moment, please? you can leave any time you want," he coaxed, the look in his eyes far too pathetic to not pity.
"10 minutes," you responded firmly, determined to not let him take up too much of your time.
one thing led to another and somehow, you ended up pressed against his wall, his tongue slipping past your parted lips, his length buried in your tight cunt.
you should've known every little thing, up from the start was all for him to have you back in this position. you couldn't even be mad — he always knew how to get his way with you.
"m-micha, h-haah s-slow down-" "you can take it, can't you?" he insisted, his lips smashing against yours with a fervor you didn't know he had. all you could do was nod, drunk on the feeling of him so deep inside, your gummy walls fluttering around him.
he hoisted you up, the only thing seperating you and the ground being his sturdy arms, keeping your legs apart as he thrusted deeper. "s-so good f'me, liebling."
he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch tender.
sweat stuck his hair to his forehead, soft groans leaving his lips with every thrust. you were reduced to a whimpering mess beneath, clawing at his back.
right as you were getting used to his movements, your hips bucking up to match his pace, he abruptly paused, holding you there for a moment before pulling out without warning.
you were settled back down on your feet, forced to cling to him for balance. "w-wait, wh-" "10 minutes, right?" he reminds you, glancing over at the clock on his wall. he was petty as hell and you knew that. as much as you didn't want to feed into his ego further, you couldn't just leave on edge, your body was aching for more.
"get out of my house," he ordered, without a second look. "y-you can't do that?" "your words, y/n," he reminded, patronizingly. he snapped his boxers back on, running a hand through his messed up hair.
"can you at least fuck me properly first?" "don't know, can i?"
"maybe if you beg?" he added. you groaned in frustration, watching a smile creep onto his face. just how annoying could this man get?
"i'm not-" you paused, watching him reach down to grab his pants.
"please." "please what?"
"please, micha, fuck me."
he picked you up with ease, dropping you on the couch, nudging your legs apart with his knee. "that wasn't too hard now, was it?"
he tugged his boxers down again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance.
pushing in you slowly, the relief of finally receiving some friction made you cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair.
you whined, his pace becoming unbearable again, pounding into you so deep, hitting all the right spots.
he pressed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his touch so sweet again. you couldn't tell if he was solely doing this to keep you under him longer or if he really did feel the need to care for you as you lay beneath him in such an intimate moment.
"h-hnghh, y-you're so- d-deep," you managed to whine out. "i know baby, i know. you're taking it so well though, and you're going to keep taking it, right?" his last words having a firm edge to them. all you could do was nod feverishly and agree, your senses clouded by nothing but the feeling of his unrelenting thrusts.
his hand slides down to rub your clit, the action making your back arch, the sounds slipping past your lips fueled by pure ecstasy.
"who else could ever make you feel this good, huh?" and you could only moan pathetically in response.
"fuckin' answer me," he commanded, a harsh slap landing on your cheek. the action was a full 360 from the soft, lingering caresses he was giving you previously. "n-no one, no one else," you gasped out. "that's right, smart girl."
before you could register it, your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back as you cried out in pleasure. kaiser's breathing sounded laboured by now, but he wasn't done yet. "just hold on a little longer for me, y-yeah?"
he gave a few final thrusts before letting up. the overstimulation made your toes curl, inaudible noises spilling from you, feeling him fill you up. he pulled out, teasing your sopping cunt with his tip. watching his cum drip out of your pussy onto the sleek leather of the couch was quite a sight to see. it was laughable, even.
you'd came to him with the intention of doing nothing more than returning his hoodie, yet ended up with his cum spilling out of you.
"keep it in there." he fingered it back inside, deliberately curling his fingers in your soaked walls, causing you to yelp in surprise.
he stuck his fingers in your mouth, forcing you to lap them clean. when you were done, he gave a lazy smile at the sight of you, breathless and dazed. after he'd pulled his pants back on, he didn't bother to help you out with your own.
"oh, and i think you may wanna keep this," he mused, dropping the hoodie onto your exposed body, earning an annoyed huff from you.
well, you'd ended up with it again one way or another.
After weeks of stress taking its toll on your body, your boyfriend helps you unwind with a massage… and it becomes so much more. Word count: 5.6k.
⟢ CONTENTS: not suitable for minors, smut, basically a massage that turns into prone bone sex :D, foreplay, praise and teasing, slight choking, unprotected sex, established relationship, dr. ratio cares.
⟢ A/N: I yearn for more of in-game content of Dr. Ratio, but oh well. Also, I know relatively little about massage techniques, so apologies if those here might appear inaccurate—we get to the main point pretty quickly anyway.
“You have overworked yourself yet again.”
Veritas’s exasperated sigh can be heard clearly by you, even as your mind threatens to slip into a pleasant state of nothingness, overtaken by the sheer relief his hands are kneading into your nude body. You suppose you can never truly tune out his care disguised right under the stern lectures.
“How many times do I have to tell you to ease up on your workload before those words stop bouncing off your forehead?”
But the unfurling pressure he’s been working into your knots leaves you little space for guilt. You don't remember the last time you were allowed to feel this good. Weeks of tension and aches coming to an end, thanks to him working out the nightmarish kinks in your nearly rock-solid muscles. First was your nape, then the shoulders, now he’s between your scapulae.
“Well, don’t you work a lot yourself?” you argue, though your supposed clincher comes out weakly, slightly slurred from how much you are surrendering to his act of overhaul.
“Unlike you, I also remember the importance of leisure in amount appropriate to labor.”
“It’s not as though a little stress is going to kill me,” you say boldly.
Veritas sighs. In a way so visceral you must realize how wrong you are.
“The body is not separate from the mind, despite humanity’s persistent attempts to behave as though it were. Prolonged stress affects both.”
Right. Hence all these baths—undisturbed or shared with you. The meditation and exercise. Or… the scheduled massages akin to the one you are currently receiving from.
And he’s phenomenal. Not merely because of the anatomy, medicine, physiotherapy, or whatever other experience he has accumulated over the years. You’ve been here under his hands during many stressful periods to know that.
The setup for today’s session is just as inviting: the rented massage table, warm sandal wood oil spread across your skin by his broad palms, relaxing notes playing in the background, and candles casting a dimmed, warm light of sanctuary across the room. You barely feel your physical stand, floating somewhere on cloud nine, and you think he might have turned your shared bedroom into paradise.
“If this is what I get for overworking myself… I might have to get myself into this sorry state more often,” you still reply unabashedly, your cheek melting into the soft cover below you. Just a limp noodle you’ve become.
Despite the fact you throw these words obviously humorously, Veritas takes them seriously, pausing his movements for a moment.
“Should you actually pursue those endeavors, it’s a hospital bed you might end up on next time, not this one.” There’s even more sternness weaving itself into his voice, but you know well.
Normally, Veritas prefers people to reach conclusions on their own. Knowledge earned through though tends to remain far longer than knowledge simply handed over. Unfortunately, there is little to be gained from allowing someone to work themselves into collapsing. Some lessons require intervention before discussion. As much as he likes to give you, his girlfriend, space to unravel truths on your own, it is only right he occasionally takes care of you.
(Although, he still acts as if some of your decisions will personally cause him to age prematurely, unashamed to correct or scold you from time to time.)
Because most people have one or two areas of expertise. However, as for your boyfriend, he has medicine, engineering, mathematics, physics, philosophy, natural theology, biology, computer science, and, apparently, a knack for knowing exactly when you are lying about being fine. If he must drag you under his wing, he will.
He resumes his work, noticing you thankfully don’t question his words. One hand finds the space beneath the edge of your shoulder blade while the other settles against your shoulder. Guiding it upward slightly, he deepens the stretch and holds if there for several seconds.
A quiet sound escapes you.
“Hm, sorry… it's just that, it feels so good…” you mumble out.
He hums with appreciation, at least acknowledging your praise as something he considers valuable—a stark contrast to the countless achievements he habitually regards as mediocre, no matter how extraordinary they might be.
“You needn't first sacrifice your body in order to receive a massage from me. Only ask. I can tell you’re at your limits.”
“I’ll keep that in mind—”
“However, try not to abuse your privilege,” he adds wryly.
You chuckle softly. “I’ll try.” That restrain will be remarkably hard to accomplish after this session, you are sure.
As his hands wander down to your waist, you open your eyes briefly, catching sight of his focused expression hovering above you. Not only is he ridiculously handsome like this, but there is an unmistakable trace of worry pinched between his brows. You must have that many stubborn muscle fibers to work out, and he acts like he personally has a bone to pick with them, for the frown deepens as he encounters another troublesome spot.
“Hm. The right side is significantly worse,” he observes with light irritation.
You hiss as he presses into a particularly tenacious knot, but he doesn’t let up despite your instinctive jolt, maintaining steady momentum until the issue in this area finally gives. You settle down limply again, relief appearing almost immediately.
“Relax,” he now says with satisfaction on his own. “Give yourself to my touch. I know what I’m doing,” he reassures with confidence, his further knot-tackling unceasing.
And you do feel safe here with him. For at least one day, the world can slow down, and you can hand the responsibility to him. Count on him. So you allow yourself to sink into the mattress with more ease, allowing him to repeat the technique on the opposite side.
He takes your hand that you’ve been keeping palm-up next. Lacing your fingers together on both sides, he leaves his thumbs free to work into the center of your palm, paying especial attention to the dominant—the one that works hard, spending its days lifting, writing, clicking, or whatever else you force through.
“Overuse,” he remarks shortly.
“You say that like you’re diagnosing me.”
“I am.”
Just to tease, you squeeze your fingers in retaliation, simultaneously reminding yourself how comfortingly warm and large his hand feels around yours. Steady.
“You do like to make matters more difficult, even now.” His heaved sigh sounds exasperated, though only mildly by his standards.
Notably, he allows you to keep holding his hand for several moments longer than necessary.
The rest of the massage proceeds just as smoothly.
With your eyes closed again, your hearing sharpens. Your ears register his steps circling the table, the smearing of the oil across your body, and every so often… a disgruntled and disapproving comment regarding your apparent inability to take care of yourself properly.
Eventually, his hands drag themselves down to your lower back, close to your buttocks, stopping shy of where your towel starts.
You forget to curb your reaction—shivering slightly and flexing your hand. It is just now that you realize how long it’s been since you and him were physical.
“You really are tense, huh…” Instead of disapproval, you can hear a smirk in his tone. He can get quite cocky with you sometimes, taking great satisfaction from his effect over you.
It does tend to bear interesting fruits. If you challenge him in retaliation, the notion is likely to make him hard.
You chuckle softly. “I’m sorry… I don't mean to make your job harder—”
“You consistently do.”
“That’s not very nice.” You pout mockingly.
“Neither is forcing your muscles into rebellion.”
Not that he’s any better. He believes himself capable of telling the difference between sexual and non-sexual nudity; however, things are a bit different when he’s facing his girlfriend.
“Perhaps. Though, I believe you to be a bit of hypocrite.”
His thumbs dig into your lower back in response, as if resetting you into less talking and more compliance. You sigh contentedly despite. Before he could demand answers, he spends two minutes on the area.
Then he asks, “And pray tell, what have I done to earn this accusation?”
He lifts one of your legs, guiding the heel toward your glutes while keeping a controlled grip around your ankle. A stretch settles along the front of your thigh. At the same time, you can feel your wetness that’s been growing between your thighs stirring. You shudder from the squeeze on your leg, giving into brief imagination of a completely different scenario.
“I can feel you staring,” you say teasingly.
“It is not unusual,” he replies dismissively, finally with his eyes roaming across your body in a less restrained way. “As a matter of fact, to be expected.”
“Then don't try to brag about me reacting to you…”
Another sigh; heavier this time. Perhaps agreeing with you.
As he grabs your other leg, he repeats the stretch on the other side, comparing the resistance with the same quiet focus.
“The left side is tighter.”
“You can tell that? I don’t really feel any less heavier here than anywhere else.”
“You sound surprised, which is only the proof of how out of touch you are with your own body,” he finally scolds properly. “Which now makes me responsible for you. Please, try to remind me to keep you away from work with more frequency.”
Forced rest does sound something like he would resort to should you leave him little else choice. Not that it’s often he verbalizes his concern directly, that is, in a way devoid of inhibition feeling of vulnerability tends to impose, but you had enough time to learn Ratio-language. Now you can reach conclusions he does wish you well, plentifully. However…
Again, you can hardly be guilty when he’s doing you so well, now more than before when lust is taking its course. You accidentally wriggle your hips in order to adjust your position while he’s stretching those muscles.
And so the grip tightens. Surprisingly, he doesn’t scold you this time.
“Oh, sorry…” you say innocently, smiling secretly. “I felt ticklish here.”
You don’t need to open your eyes to know some predicament is forming on his mind.
“We were about to finish anyway…” Veritas clears his throat after a longer pause, certain intrinsical words getting stuck in here. “We only have the calves left.”
As if you could let him go.
“That’s a shame… It feels like the massage lasted only five minutes,” you complain somewhat whiny. “It was beginning to work, you know.”
“Hm. You do seem considerably less inclined to put up a struggle now,” he comments with a tone of nonchalant expertise. “However, you are still tense.”
Fake enough for you to understand he’s getting distracted and simply refuses to admit it. Even now, when kneading your calf, he acts as though the process is likely to be disrupted far sooner than anticipated, as he’s putting less meticulousness there.
“Yeah, I am…” you sigh pitifully, having noticed something interesting by now. He’s quite lenient today—likely enough to get you something without the typical obstacle that is the infuriating patience to finish a ritual he has started. “I’m that wound up.”
You know it’s an excuse. Or maybe it’s not. Veritas would help you unwind in a different way regardless… but it typically takes more time to initiate.
The odds are indeed stacked in your favor today. His hands leave your body. Another pondering hum is heard by you, as if he’s recognizing a certain duty to fulfill.
Seeing the most of the oil has absorbed into your skin—it was a dry type—he assumes he can place his lips on your shoulders with ease.
“Veritas…?” you ask with suspense, despite your previous assumption you’ll get him like you want him. He’s actually giving to your whims.
“You're still tense, like you said.” There is the faintest hint of amusement in his voice now, enough to make you even more suspicious. “I’m helping you, so you ought to be grateful.” It’s hardly a real reprimand, if something meant to leave you hot in the face—said like a taunt.
Which does work, unfortunately for your dignity.
Before you could bite back, you are made to moan instead. His hands go under your body, gently cupping your breasts, all the more causing him to lay some of the weight of his upper body onto your back even if the table is set high enough for his reach. Your heart rhythm elates about the closeness.
Those kisses are wet, his lips sliding across the top of your back with softest of content sighs. Meanwhile, his fingers gently roll your nipples between his fingers, sending electrifying heat down to your crotch.
You bunch up the cover under you, whimpering and growing restless.
Every little reaction you give, he stores into his mind, both for future reference and his own enjoyment. Taking in your beauty and other parts of you others might have taken for granted, not knowing you were carved for him.
“Have you been thinking about me doing something this a lot? I’m sure you were…” he says quietly near your ear, the vibrations shedding another layer of composure from you.
You gulp, knowing how right he is. The thoughts were getting increasingly bolder with every mapping of his hands. Those hands you get to watch daily, as they sculpt, write, clean, lift, push, or even touch you—and when the veins come out, you get to trace them and feel the life of the person you love, right as you huddle next to Veritas on the shared couch.
“What about you…?” you ask, unable to contain the excitement growing in your tone. Your arm moves off the side so you can cup his growing bulge.
Veritas lets out a hiss and you can feel muscles of his thighs flex around, not that far behind in the tension caused by prolonged yearning for you. To be able to reunite after the weeks of you burying yourself deep in work, then him nearly having to tackle you down so you would finally rest… now the old tension he tried to set aside for your own sake is rekindling.
You needn’t know about all the times he stroked himself during his baths—contrary to the idea of relaxation and cleanse they are originally meant for—just because thoughts of you could not leave his feverish mind any second he was not busy.
“You should know well by now, dearest,” he acquiesces in a rather soft manner, kissing at your nape.
The rare use of the name warms up your chest.
Then those beautiful hands slowly glide down your sides, smoothly with the oil leftovers, until they grab your ass he starts kneading under the towel. He keeps spreading the kisses lower and lower down your spine as he takes slow steps back.
With how much you wriggle from your delight only amplifying, the towel slowly slides off your body. None of you dares to fix its previous position.
None of you need to.
“Remarkable,” you hear him say with appreciation.
“What is?” you ask almost dumbly, your mind slowly going haywire. It’s just him, his touch, and you.
“The way you fit right into my hands.”
Your stomach twists at the earnest praise.
As if appreciating the shape, as if still massaging you, his palms circle around the front and sides of your hips too. Then your thighs, moving up, and up—
You shudder, squirming in place, as the inner part of the latter is especially sensitive.
“So jittery… I would have thought you’re used to my touch at this point.” Another tease. “And this wet already…?” He clicks his tongue as he finally straightens his back and looks down.
You whimper in response, yet you still try to bite back, “Like you didn’t jump onto the opportunity… Do I even need to lift my head to see the evidence?” You grab and stroke him again until you feel his nails digging into your skin.
For all coquettish you are, your heart races fast by this point, and you can imagine him touching you properly. You’re already fully exposed to him, laid out here for him to work on you, with little to hide.
You hear a small laugh. “Hm, astute observation… and yet, I cannot help but wonder, who will be begging first.”
With that said, you can feel his fingers brushing across your wet heat. Just trailing upward and breaching the territory, yet it’s still enough to render you sensitive.
You shuffle your hips again, but this time, you truly cannot help yourself.
Without further delay, his single finger slides into your heat, moving slowly at first yet reaching for the points he recognizes as most pleasurable for you. He goes as far as curl his digit, until that sweet spot is found and your feet kick up a bit in response. It feels like being massaged again, with an obvious expertise or even aptitude, but from the inside this time.
“Just as I thought…” he purrs.
“Veritas…” you utter his name with a mewl, sending the sound straight to his cock you feel twitch in your palm.
A sound indeed enjoyable, as he starts thrusting his finger properly in reward. Careful at first, knowing it’s been a while, but hastening when your body soon accepts the intrusion with all the slickness gathering up.
While you have paused your own hand movements for a moment, you move again, this time trying to lower the sweatpants he’s been lounging in, eager to make him feel good too.
He stops you, not sure if he can take more so soon. Instead, he holds his hand over yours, letting you keep pressing on his bulge—that much he refuses to deny himself of—and letting out a grunt every few seconds.
“Careful…” he groans.
As he adds a second finger in, you have to grip the edge of the table. You moan into the surface.
“… What would you do without me, hm?” he teases, leaning down again to blow hot air on your skin in a way that gives you shivers. When you moan even more pathetically, he chuckles; the amusement soon disrupted as you cup his imprint harder.
Now he becomes a little rougher on his own, thrusting in those two back and forth, not necessarily faster but deeper, occasionally scissoring your insides. His deep breathing adds to the condensation in the room, and he cannot stop watching your facial expressions change. What was petulant or cheeky is now needy. What was tense is now blossoming into bliss, just as intended by him.
“M-more… please… I need you…” That much is undeniable, based on your tone. There is little to care about handing him the victory when being filled again after a long time sounds like your priority.
His breath audibly hitches.
You look at him properly to the side, pleading with your eyes as if you know he’s rather susceptible at this point.
To your surprise, he does move, rather hastily at that, as if have been anticipating the excuse like that. The challenge was won, the massage long forgotten, therefore…
You can see him getting undressed—eager, no pretense. Fully. You assumed he'd waste no time and merely lower his bottoms while you’d linger nude, the imbalance potentially delicious on its own, but he’s always been a fan of feeling your skin on his.
The metal base of the massage table creaks as he moves to be on top of you, his legs overlapping at the sides of yours, while his forearms go to rest at your sides. His body weight crushes you, pushes you into the surface, and you’ve never been happier to be trapped underneath him.
A heavy, awfully ragged sigh follows. You swallow in anticipation.
“I would have wished to take care of you properly, but you just know how to break a man’s restraint…”
You do know him being between your legs and tongue-fucking until you cry would be otherworldly as well, but for now, you’ve never been more obsessed with the idea of him filling you properly.
Moving his hips around and lifting them, he drags his heavy, leaking length between your folds from behind. With how hard he is, you squirm at every poke—him coating himself in your arousal, occasionally pulling at the hood of your clit with the tip too.
You both groan.
“Oh you can be so maddening like that…” he mutters.
And then he starts to sink into you, feeding your pussy inch by inch as if comprehending your latent sensitivity.
The stretch is lovely, and while perhaps reigniting your nerves all the way more almost as if it’s your first time again, a bit difficult to take, you also realize just how much you’ve missed him—or the girth that always fits right in the end for that matter.
Not even once have you been turned around.
Before he would start moving, he chooses to grind inside your hole first, enjoying the squeeze and warmth he has missed so much, accentuated with a guttural moan. All for the better, as it overwhelms him too.
You’re also reminded how tenderly you enjoy his own sounds, especially noticing how over the course of your relationship with him, he gets more comfortable with you. Or perhaps he simply cannot resist you.
His face goes into the crook of your neck which he kisses gently as he stretches he further and wider, orienting between tiny nibs too. The way his hair tickles you gives you additional shivers.
You're in haze already, overwhelmed by his weight and scent, the latter now a bit salty from how steamy you got him.
He starts moving, sliding in and out of you in long and deep strokes that go until his balls rest on your mound and clit, ensuring you get every best part of him. His hands hold onto your wrists trying to push back from sensitivity.
“Mm… I feel so full…” you mewl.
“Yeah? Then perhaps you should stop squirming,” he murmurs into your ear, even if you can hear strain in his voice, “or is too much for you?” he teases.
You whimper at his words. With him thrusting with more detail, you’re forced to feel every bit of his dick and him grazing against your nerves. It is a bit too much, especially after a longer break, but you wouldn’t replace it for anything else.
“Veritas… I just need you to…”
“Yes?” He licks at your earlobe until you squirm harder under him, your toes curling as he offers you another sharp thrust. It’s hard to find any rationality in the qualia of skin slapping, his balls hitting your clit, and the rattling of the bed.
“Please, I need you to fuck me so good…” you beg desperately, scratching the bed with your clammy hands. “It’s been so long…”
He revels in how you react to him, even if the other part of him wishes to cherish you and give you what you deserve. “What's the hurry for? We have all night to catch up…”
Hypocrite. A big hypocrite, considering the slower pace is for his sake too.
“Y-you said you'll help me… relieve the tension… so do it.”
That he did. With a tiny pause, you know he’s considering it. Not because you said so. Because of the way you did, giving yourself to him willingly.
His own heart skips a beat.
“Here I was being careful for your sake…”
He slams his hips harder with the next thrust, tearing a whine from your throat. His pace picks up too, opening you up with his thick length with even more friction.
Your eyes roll back into your skull. It feels amazing, welcoming him inside after such a break again. It is just now you fully comprehend just how much you have missed this.
Missed him.
“This is what you wanted?” he groans roughly.
You nod into the table rapidly.
“So good… I missed you so much…” you mumble half-deliriously, your pitch high. Your skin starts getting so moist your hair sticks to it, glowing in a way that only gives you more allure in his eyes.
His pace falters for a moment hearing that, but resumes as suddenly, now even more intense.
“Yes? You were thinking about me too, even when you were so busy?” he asks into your nape, the pleasure at the thought turning his voice even rougher.
“Mhm.” You don’t even catch the fact he’s admitted he’s been thinking about you immensely as well.
In response, his arm wraps around your front while he uses the force of his hips and legs to keep fucking you, meantime slightly pressing on your throat in a way that steals some of your breath.
With your head suddenly raised, you turn it around, even if the angle is awkward and nearly painful.
“What is it this time?”
The question falls upon him noticing you staring at him. In return, he looks at you with hooded eyes, a storm of desire brewing here.
“You haven’t kissed me yet… that’s not fair…” you whine.
Ratio smiles lightly, his gaze softening if only for a second, as he wonders when did you become so needy. Perhaps he has spoiled you too much.
“Not fair?” Another rough thrust that has you tightening around him and making him moan is given. “Aren’t I offering you plenty already?”
It’s getting harder to think straight and argue your case. A kiss is reasonable, but you can’t even express it as to why. “I just missed you,” you say what you know for sure—again.
And that renders him stupid for a moment too.
Suddenly, your cheeks are squished in his other hand, and he’s kissing you madly.
As he goes on with pounding into your wet pussy, the bed shakes nonstop, screws slowly loosening, and for a moment, he wonders if he can get it back from rental in one piece.
It doesn’t matter.
As you withdraw, a string of saliva connecting you for a moment longer, your mouth opens even wider to form another lewd plea—much to him already losing his sanity to the hot grip of your pussy around his sensitive tip, your skin and scent under him, as well your sweet words being blabbered endlessly.
You’re making him a true fool these days, and in hindsight, he thinks your relationship is relatively short for that to happen already—if one were to exclude the many months it took you to earn his trust. An unfortunate development. Particularly for a man who had spent years studying epistemology only to discover that affection oftentimes cares very little for evidence, logic, or proper methodology. Which is not to say he didn’t understand love at all—it is simply different to taste it from the front-row seat.
The way you push your hips back at him is commendable too, and in reality, he’s never been that good at denying you.
He watches your debauched expression with thought. With how you’ve been growing vocal or even fluttering around him, he can tell you're close, although…
He needs to see you. Truly.
You whine when your boyfriend suddenly pulls out and gets off the massage table, yet you’re given little time to complain when, in show of dexterity, he twists you around onto your back and drags you to the edge of the massage bed by your legs.
You get see him in all his glory, sweaty and with cheeks flushed, yet with his amaranthine eyes never losing their sharpness concentrated on you. It nearly has you flustered, considering the gap since you two were allowed to get this lost in each other.
You wrap your legs around him the moment he steps to be between them.
“Good girl.” The praise leaves his mouth instinctively and you shiver all the way more in anticipation.
Wasting no time, he fills you to the hilt again. The motion strong enough to have you raking at his biceps as you cry out. He leans over you, his hands going under your back to hold you close.
“W-working so hard… until I have to take care of you… and yet, I can’t find it in myself to be mad at you…” he laughs self-deprecatingly, yet the sound is pretty enough to give you butterflies.
You cannot help but love seeing him relaxed, less harder on maintaining walls around you, that you could get drunk just from the surge of affection going through you.
As he continues fucking you, staring you deep in the eye, you keep sliding off the bed—but every thrust forces you back onto it.
You drag him down even lower by his biceps, expecting another kiss. This time, his lips connect with yours without any hesitation.
The manner in which he kisses you always makes you dizzy. No matter what a mess he may be causing between your legs, his tongue is always methodical and slower, his lips pleasuring yours with gentle though eager strokes too.
His head leans in even more, his forehead ending up against yours. Then he grabs you under your knees until he finally has you fully bent in half, wringing your poor limbs in attempt to console himself.
Your calves uselessly sway with every push of his hips. With the way Veritas completes you so well back and forth, leaving you gasping for air and arching your back, you cannot help but scratch his arms.
Which he doesn’t bother to stop, taking this as the testimony of your pleasure. He only hisses as it adds to the twitch of his balls waiting to spill inside you, becoming more inclined to chase his own pleasure and amplify yours.
“I’ll give you what you want. You just—” Lifting his head to look down, he gets to see even more proof. Your stomach flexing as you’re about to orgasm, your swollen, glistening folds being spread to make up space for his cock, the tremble that never goes away. “—lie there and take like you deserve it,” he beseeches fervently.
As his pubic bone does not relent on hitting your abdomen, his hair rubs against your clit the same way, helping you get closer and closer.
“Yes. Just like that. Oh, please, please, I love you so much—” you babble, feeling the pressure in your abdomen about to burst.
“Go on. Touch yourself properly. Let me see you,” he nearly begs as he brings his besotted gaze back at yours, also twitching inside of you as the indicator of his own orgasm coming.
Your hand limply falls before you roll on your clit with impatience, making yourself cum soon after. You cry out his name as you finish, digging your nails into his arm you grab for anchoring.
“Dammit—” the curse flows out easily when you tighten impossibly neat around him, shaking from the waves of ecstasy crashing.
He allows you to ride it out before picking up the pace again, striving for his own peace of heaven. Through the ringing of your ears, you still get to hear his moans, and one, broken “dear.”
And when it comes, his hips losing their steadiness and his balls tightening to shoot inside you, his biceps and tights flexing from the strain, he finally reciprocates without thinking, “I love you too.”
You know those words usually are provided through acts rather than verbally. But now, they leave his lips naturally, incapable of being filtered when he only needs you.
Grinding his teeth, he speaks with difficulty as he fills you up so well, as if it was his love itself, “You should feel never bad about asking me for help… or I will drag you there and make you beg for it…”
You can oddly nod, a few tears of bliss rolling down.
Veritas collapses on top of you, your legs falling at his sides. Your chests stick together, and you manage to run your fingers through his purple hair as you both try to collect your breath.
Only when it doesn’t feel like the room spins, he cranes his head to kiss you again.
Even when pulling out slowly and kissing you through your hiss of sensitivity, he gives you a few shallow thrusts in, wanting you to keep him inside for a little bit longer.
When he removes his softening length out of you fully, he watches the mess dribble down your thighs in a slow trail—mesmerised—while you wipe your forehead and sigh tiredly.
Despite his own legs being shaky, he wraps his arms around you and brings you up until you are sitting up, with rather ease. His forehead ends up on your shoulder for a moment.
“I think my stress was eradicated more than I could have hoped for.” You laughs softly, so does he.
“As it should. Now, as for the other part of leisure… I believe a bath is due,” he murmurs with another light kiss into your wet skin.
“Yes. We’re a bit sticky,” you say humorously.
“Among other things,” he taunts.
“Hm?” You blink twice.
“You didn’t think we were done, were you?” he smirks and lifts his head to look at you. “We’re simply changing a scenery before this poor table falls apart.”
paws and cotton tails ft. Sae Itoshi & Bunny inglesias
・❥・smut mdni time to spice things up in the relationship. hope you like costumes ;)
sae itoshi
the outfit was your idea, which means sae has exactly zero sympathy for you right now.
you'd bought it yourself. showed up at his door in that little black cat set, ears clipped into your hair, a thin collar with a bell sat at your throat and a tail plug already worked inside you before you even knocked. his expression didn't change. not really. but his eyes dragged down your body slow, that cold teal going just a few degrees warmer, and the pause before he spoke was longer than usual.
"you look ridiculous," he said. then he stepped aside and let you in.
he doesn't do soft with the cat thing. doesn't coo at you or call you precious or any of that nonsense. instead it's cruel and clinical and so fucking good. he'll grab the collar instead of your throat, just a two-fingered hook underneath the bell, and pull your face up to his. "sit," he says. flat. final. and he watches you do it. watches you lower yourself slowly, kneeling in front of him, and the corner of his mouth just barely moves.
he likes the tail most. likes knowing it's been inside you since before he even touched you. he'll reach around mid-fuck and tug it, not hard, just enough, and feel you clench around him immediately. "there," he'll say, like he solved a puzzle. like you're a puzzle. "that's what you needed."
he'll have you on all fours on the bed, face pressed into the sheets and ass tilted up, the little tail curled against your skin. he grips your hips and holds you exactly where he wants you and then he just takes his time lining up. doesn't rush. makes you feel every second of the wait. "you dressed up like this," he says, voice flat and contemptuous, "and you can't even hold still."
you whine. the bell on your collar chimes.
he's smirking hard. you feel it more than see it.
when he pushes in it's slow and thorough, every inch of him stretching you wide around the tail still seated inside you, the double fullness making your breath stutter and collapse in your chest. "s'too— hah—" you start. sae's hand comes down on the meat of your ass, not punishing, just sharp enough to make your whole body jolt. "i didn't ask," he says.
he fucks you like he plays. precise. economical even. every thrust landing exactly where he wants it, angle adjusted slightly until he finds the spot that makes your thighs shake and then he stays there over and over again grinding into it. "you're going to cum like that," he tells you. not a question. he reaches under you and finds your clit with two fingers, barely rubbing, just pressure, just enough. "since you went through all this trouble."
his dirty talk is mean in trademark quiet way. not theatrical, just true. "pathetic," he murmurs against the back of your neck when you start crying. "dressed up all pretty and begging already." he grabs the base of the tail and pulls it free, slow and the stretch of empty makes you sob, but you still feel just as stuffed with just his cock. the sounds you make aren't even words. it's just noise. just him, reducing you to noise.
when you cum he talks you through it like he's mildly inconvenienced. "there. go on. stop holding it." and you do. you fall apart completely, bell chiming softly as you shake, face wrecked against the mattress. sae doesn't stop. he keeps fucking you through it, into the oversensitivity and says nothing else until he finishes, buried deep and still, fingers gripping your hip so hard you'll have small bruises in the shape of him tomorrow.
he pulls out and looks at the mess. looks at you, ears askew, collar twisted, tail discarded on the sheet beside you. something in his face shifts, something that isn't quite soft but is the closest he gets. he fixes your ears. doesn't say anything. just straightens them, like that matters.
(he also takes a pic for future travels without you)
bunny iglesias
he bought the suit for you. that's the first thing you need to understand.
you didn't suggest it, didn't hint at it, didn't send a single screenshot to a single groupchat. you came over and found a box on his bed with a little bow on it and bunny sitting in the chair across the room, cap pulled low, that gentle smile already settled on his face. "try it on," he said, like he was suggesting you taste something he'd cooked.
the suit was white. a fluffy tail at the back, long ears on a headband, a corset-cut bodysuit that pushed your tits together and cut high on your hip, sheer white thigh-highs clipped to garters. you looked in the mirror and felt your face go hot.
when you came back out bunny's smile didn't get bigger. it just got slower.
"come here, conejita," he said. little bunny. and his voice was so gentle you almost didn't register what his hands were doing until they were already on you.
he's not cruel the way sae is. bunny's mean in this sweet, drifting way that gets under your skin differently. he'll cup your face and look at you like you're something wonderful and then say, "you look so dumb in this, you know that? so fucking dumb and pretty," and kiss your forehead before you can react.
he takes his time. always. bunny has this quality of being completely unhurried that should feel relaxing but instead builds something unbearable. he undresses himself while you kneel on the bed and he watches you watching him, and he smiles. "you're drooling," he says. you weren't (you were close to though). he tilts his head, all those light strands falling loose, the scars on his face catching the light. "actually… maybe i like that."
he fucks you on your back first. wants to see your face, he says. wants to watch the ears. he hooks your thigh up high and takes you apart slow and thorough, the fluff of the little tail pressing between you and the sheets, and he narrates it all in this quiet, conversational voice. "you feel that? that's all of me. you're taking it so well." a beat. "well. mostly well. your face is embarrassing, conejita."
"bunny, please—"
"please what." not a question. he knows. he just wants you to say it.
"please move, please, just—"
"just what? you're going to have to be specific." his hips roll, once, devastating, hitting deep, and you gasp and he watches you gasp with those big red eyes completely calm. "there? you wanted that?" he does it again. slower. "say yes."
"yes, yes, yes—"
"good girl." and then he actually moves and you feel it everywhere.
the dirty talk escalates as he gets closer. starts sweet and gets filthy, this gradual slide, like he can't help it. "you're so wet it's obscene," he murmurs. "such a mess. don't you have any shame, letting me do this to you?" he's bottoming out with every thrust now, the slap of skin loud and wet, your thighs shaking around him. "look at you," he breathes. "my little bunny. all stuffed full." he grabs the back of your knee and pushes it towards your chest, changing the angle and the sound you make makes his breath hitch for the first time. "oh," he says, softer. "there you are."
he comes undone quietly. you can feel it before you see it, the way his rhythm breaks slightly, the way his jaw tightens. he grabs your hip hard enough that it surprises both of you. "don't move," he says, and his voice has dropped a full octave and gone rough. "don't. move." he fucks into you deep and stays there, grinding, chasing it, and when he cums it's with his forehead dropped to your collarbone and a low, fractured sound that he clearly didn't mean to let out.
afterwards he just stays there. doesn't move for a long moment. breathes against your skin.
then he lifts his head and one of your bunny ears has fallen across your cheek and he looks at it and his face does something complicated. he reaches up and straightens it. and then his thumb brushes under your eye where your makeup has tracked down, slow and deliberate.
(he buys 10 more suits after this. one for each occassion)
☠ 𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄...! These scare actors are the best in town and they're not afraid to take things to the next level. Are you prepared to find out how? FEAT. MICHAEL KAISER, BUNNY IGLESIAS & RIN ITOSHI
𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍! 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓! dark content, nsfw, aged up, slight predator/prey play, stalking, dubcon, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation, slight blood, dry humping, squirting, biting, semi-public, slight gaslighting (from kaiser lol), lmk if i missed anything
𝐀/𝐍 : REPOST! if this post looks familiar, it's because it's a reupload from my old blog (cheshitora/chesh-re). this is still my favorite post to this day so ofc i had to reupload this one first. there will definitely be more to come in the future, both new uploads and reuploads ^^ i still standby the fact that the bllk men would make the best scare actors. this is proofread and edited slightly to clear up spelling errors and anything that may have seemed confusing before <3
☠ BUNNY IGLESIAS
bunny runs his own side of the park. he gained massive notoriety after videos of his haunted maze went viral online, showcasing not only the colossal, inescapable labyrinth but also his refined technique in producing high quality scares. cameras littered the halls, tucked away into corners to capture each individual scare adventurer's face.
at first, people were quick to look down on his attraction due to the usage of rabbit imagery and, of course, his own name incorporated with the title of his maze. it was actually his name that caught the attention of you and a group of your friends see the new attraction and see what thrills waited beyond the caution sign.
your friends were fast to start making fun of the "cutesy" rabbit aesthetic, documenting their journey into the maze on their phones that would later lure in more eager participants, as the maze progressively becomes more horrific in its imagery and increasing difficulty to escape.
somehow, in the midst of your own exploration and documentation, you lost yourself within the tall walls of the puzzle, losing track of your friends and the sound of their shouts and screams. each turn led you to a dead end, forcing you to turn back and choose another route.
too engrossed in finding an escape, you barely registered the soft padding of footsteps nearing you from behind ─ and before you knew it, two strong arms wrapped around your frame, slamming you face first against the cold, hardened wall, trapping you instantly between two (surprisingly) muscular and scarred arms.
you writhed and frantically screamed for your friends, or anyone, for help ─ until a hand was clamped onto your mouth, silencing your frightened shrieks of terror. the sight of a terrifying plastic bunny mask only served to scare you more, ripples of fear shooting down your back in thick waves. the mask, covered in splattered red paint, slowly shifted into your peripheral, a single finger rising to its lips in a "shh" motion, warning to stay quiet.
you don't know why, but you nodded. you should've been scared, should've been terrified to the bone, but you couldn't help but feel slightly intrigued by what was to come.
the assailant, seemingly content with your compliance, slowly removed his hand from your mouth, pulling back his mask to reveal the face of a man you'd seen before, but only in pictures and videos. bunny iglesias ─ the famous scare actor and the crazed creator of this maze. you'd recognize him anywhere ─ a large cross-shaped scar on one side of his face, soulless crimson eyes, arms decked out with scars and an unnerving grin that made you nauseous, yet your walls clenched subconsciously.
his tongue swept across his lips, causing you to shiver again. leaning into you, his breath hot against your ear that triggered the goosebumps on your skin, he spoke. "don't scream," he said in a hushed whisper, loud enough for only you to hear. your eyes went wide at the sudden demand, but you nodded once more. this might've been a mistake, but when he grabbed the waistband of your shorts, pulling them hard and fast down your shaky legs, all safety precautions were null.
well, that explains why he told you not to scream.
you squeaked in surprise, trying to push him away as he knelt down behind you, smothering your backside in hot, wet kisses that had you whining for more, despite the desperation in your movements to keep him away, trying to slap your hands at his face even if your panties were now sticking to your sopping wet clit.
he hooked his finger into the middle of your panties, tugging them to the side and marveling at the sight of your glistening pussy, licking his lips like a man about to devour a five course meal.
without warning, bunny buries his face between your cheeks, tongue darting out like a dog to taste you. he moved between frantic licks and sucks to your pretty bud, erotic suckling noises coming from your backside as you tremble against the wall. he placed his large hands on your plush ass, spreading your cheeks apart to expose more of your sensitive flesh to satisfy his appetite. he was crazed, his pink muscle moving expertly between your puffy folds, flicking the bud of your pussy with the tip of his tongue.
"que rico, amor," he pants between breathes, reattaching his lips to your lower ones, eyes rolling to the back of his head when saccharine nectar falls his tongue. he's relishing every second of this. every squirm, moan and whine ─ he's drinking it all up.
tears stain your painted cheeks, your mouth agape with only pitiful whines rising from your throat as heat pools in your lower belly, your slick sliding down his throat the more aroused you become.
"i.. i need to.."
"hm? you need to what, amor?"
"cum," you mewled pitifully. "i need to cum."
had this been a normal day or a normal hookup, he would've prolonged your release, would've made you beg ─ but the way you sounded, the sweet way you told him you needed to cum made his heart leap and cock harden more than it was already.
"mmm, then do it," he purred, pressing a kiss to your slippery clit, his hands squeezing your thighs so hard he was sure to leave bruises on your skin. but you needn't be told twice, clenching your eyes shut as a wave of ecstasy crashed over you, a fountain of sweet juices spilling out of your pussy and into bunny's mouth.
he drank every drop you gave him, licking his lips clean of your slick before nibbling at your rear, leaving behind small red marks all over your skin.
giving your ass a small smack, he stands back up and leans into you, his lips right against your ear.
"smile, cariño," he whispers, placing his hand under chin to tip your head back, your eyes widening with shock as they land on a camera in the corner of the hall. you forgot ─ this place was filled with cameras, and you'd just made yourself a porn star in bunny's haunted maze.
"you're a star."
☠ MICHAEL KAISER
run, run, run as fast you can. because kaiser is not only one of the haunted house's best actors, but one of the most ruthless.
though disliked by his fellow actors, kaiser is admired for his skill and technique, finding him to be insufferable but down right chilling. taunting and cruel, he never backs down from a challenge. someone doesn't want to be scared? he'll insult them. another person doesn't want to piss their pants from fright? don't worry, he still has something special up his sleeve for you anyway.
and his site? set up like a castle ─ the haunted house is expansive and impossible to navigate without light. it's dark and there's a special performer for each and every checkpoint and corner you turn. and as the haunted house gained more attention and love from thrill seekers, kaiser's portion of the castle became the side no one wanted to experience. people tried their best to get through his chambers as fast as they could but often found themselves at the receiving end of nightmare fueled terror, heart attack inducing scares and cruel bantor.
kaiser's chambers gained immense popularity, which was what brought you and your partner to the massive haunted house, a long line chaining from the front doors and cascading around the property. the wait was long and with you and your partner at the back of the line, it would be hours before you'd be able to enter.
by the time it was time for your party to go inside, it was nearing 3am, the witching hour, and surely the actors would be too tired to continue the act, right? to your surprise, they still produced the same high quality acting they gave the several groups in front of you, terrifying you and your partner. when a masked actor charged at you with a knife, you accidentally ran off in another direction, losing sight of your partner in the darkness, skipping over a slightly obscured "do not enter" sign that prompted the actor to halt his pursuit.
once you were successfully lost, you attempted to locate where your partner and the rest of your group went. you were alone ─ lost in a labyrinth of horror and no map to navigate your way out of here. but you barely even noticed just where you were too, the real reason why the scare actor that had previously chased you stopped their chase.
the sound of a tongue clicking from somewhere in the darkness sent a nervous chill down your spine, sweat building on your forehead as you finally registered where you landed yourself ─ in the lion's den, kaiser's chambers. you shakily turned around, barely making out the dark silhouette of a man sitting on a bed in the center of the room.
but you knew exactly who it was, the numerous videos of people experiencing the real horrors of the famed scare actor rolling out in your mind. a cheshire-like smile stretched across his lips at the sight of your feared expression, tilting his head to the side with mock concern.
"what do we have here? you lost?" kaiser questioned, his tone condescending and showing no genuine worry for you.
you gulped, unsure of how to respond. yes, you were lost, and you knew he had no intention of helping you. his job was to scare, insult, terrify ─ not to aid and you were anticipating his next move, making yourself ready to run if you needed to, as if you were facing against a real attacker.
big mistake.
his eyes narrowed at your stance, a look of frustration dancing across his face when he registered that you were trying to escape. he hadn't even moved yet and you were already trying to run. kaiser didn't know if he should be offended or upset. instead, he flashes you another smirk, knowing that your attempt to run was fruitless.
"trying to leave already, schatz? i haven't done anything.. yet." he then points to the door from which you came from ─ it was closed and locked from the outside, a favorite timed trick of his to ensure a proper scare and traumatize anyone who dared to enter his chambers alone. an uneasy feeling shuddering through your body when it dawned on you that you were trapped with a trained maniac.
you charged for the door, banging your hands against the hard wood, screaming for help, pulling and twisting the handle in despair.
"there's no use screaming either. this room's too far from the main path."
great. anything else you needed to know?
"plus, it's past closing time. no one else is supposed to be in this area but me," he added, much to your dismay.
kaiser slid off the bed, the sound of his boots landing on the ground causing you to jump and face him, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. his icy blue orbs shone even in the dark. his boots thudded heavily against the ground with every step he took in your direction. you pressed back against the door, feeling helpless with no other way to escape.
but something about the way he stared at your frightened state uneased you. usually by now, from everything you've seen, he would've surely done or said something that would have had you crying and pleading for him to go away. he was a master of terror, but right now, he seemed... different... hungry. there was a dangerous glint in his eye that told he wanted something more than just a simple scream from you.
that was enough to get you to turn around and try the handle again, making kaiser roll his eyes in frustration.
"i told you that won't work," he said, grabbing the back of your shirt to tug you away from the door, your feet tripping from suddenly being forced to walk backwards.
you stumbled and landed in his arms, much to his delight. in a swift movement, he lifted you from the ground, hauling you over his shoulder and walking back towards the dilapidated bed, throwing you down onto the springy mattress.
a choked gasped escaped when you landed on the bed. you scrambled to sit up when you felt the bed dip from kaiser's knees digging into the bed, but he spared no second to press his weight down on you and crash his lips against yours. his tongue darted into your mouth, creating sloppy, wet kisses, lips smacking loudly against yours.
his hands climbed all over you, dipping eagerly into your pants, his fingers prodding at your quivering entrance over your panties. you bit down on his lip hard, extracting blood from the fat of his lip. he should've been pissed off but your fight only drove him to want to break you. a little blood wouldn't hurt him, after all. you slapped your hands on his chest to get him off, but it was no good ─ he had you firmly pinned beneath him.
his long digits dug their way through the flimsy fabric of your panties and straight into your tight, wet cavern, causing him to moan against your lips at the feeling of your warmth around his fingers. pulling away from your mouth, kaiser breathed heavily, his warm breath fanning over your face, his eyes hooded and dark.
"fuck, schatz, you're so tight," he moans out, curling his fingers in a way that has you seeing stars. your body continues to squirm under him, his tongue sweeping across your cheek and along your jaw, smearing blood across your skin that had accumulated in his mouth.
any attempt to shout is quickly replaced with whines and mewls as digits continue to move inside you, his movements slow and languid, like he was holding back on purpose. but he knew how to hit every spot, the tips of his fingers hitting your sweet spot that generated a burning fire in the pit of your belly.
he hits the same spot over and over, ramming his fingers into your cunt with a fire in his eyes, now determined to get you to crumble and fall apart ─ just so he can do it again and again and again.
he's rock hard, rough fabric straining against his aching, confined cock, but he's too obsessed with your contorted expressions of pleasure to think about his own needs. right now, he needs to see you cum. not once or twice, but as many times as he can rip out of you.
wet slapping sounds, along with the song of your moans, fills the dark room, your moans turning into shrieks as kaiser rips your first orgasm out of you, tremors wracking through your body as your vision blurs with tears. with heavy breaths and shaky hands, you weakly try to push him off again, but he doesn't move. pulling his hand out, kaiser hurriedly shoves your pants and panties down your hips, using his knee to spread your legs apart.
his hand moves back to work on you again, lodging his fingers within your walls. tears prick the corner of your eyes, your body too weak to fight back, soft whimpers and pleas falling from your lips.
"n-no more, please," you begged, but kaiser didn't stop, his hand only picking up speed. he offers a breathy laugh, finding joy in the way you plead for him to stop, even though your pussy was sucking his fingers back in.
"i don't think you want me to stop, schatz," he grunts, shoving his fingers in and out at a brutal pace. you subconsciously rolled your hips onto his fingers, pitiful whines filling his ears like a beautiful symphony of dubious pleasure.
"you came here knowing who i am. this is your fault ─ isn't this what you wanted?" he laughed. his tone was mocking and it did nothing to deter you from him.
"no. it was an accident," you panted between moans, but the way your pussy clenched around his fingers had you singing a different song. he didn't believe you for one second, even if it was the truth. your words fell on deaf ears, filtering out everything you said in favor of only listening to the crescendo of your intoxicating song.
kaiser buried his face into your neck, biting down on the skin of your neck. his movements were sporadic, almost begging to feel you cum for him once more. you didn't know if you had it in you, but when your stomach began to wind up, you knew you'd be coming soon.
you had never felt this kind of pleasure before, not even by the partner you loved so much, who was probably searching everywhere for you since you hadn't emerged from the haunted house yet. and just as you thought about them, there was a harsh banging on the door on the other side, your partner's voice calling out for you. they had probably alerted a member of staff about your disappearance and led a search through the castle for you.
you wanted to call out for them, but your voice was lost, releasing only cries and mewls in favor of real words.
"c'mon, schatz. let 'em hear you," kaiser rasped, pulling out his fingers abruptly that had your body shaking violently, candy-sweet juices squirting out of your cunt. your eyes widened in surprise. you didn't even know you could do that, and kaiser seemed just as surprised, but happy nonetheless.
the frantic banging diminished and you envisioned the look of disbelief on your partner's face from what they just heard.
kaiser pressed a kiss to your forehead, bringing his slick-coated hand to his mouth to suck off the rest of your arousal.
he knew your partner was still lingering on the other side of the door, most likely devastated from the sound of their girlfriend being fingered by the most famous scare actor in town.
but that was fine with kaiser ─ you belonged to him now.
☠ RIN ITOSHI
rin doesn't work in any of the fancier or elaborate haunted houses or mazes. he works as a stalker in the amusement park, weiding a long, heavy weight ax, a simple black and white mask covering his face and a white muscle tee to show off his toned arms. mysterious (and sexy) but scary enough to make park goers feel uneasy when they notice him from across the distance, especially as the night travels into the late hours near its close, the pathways emptying as people made their way back to their vehicles.
he's not a chaser. he doesn't bother to run after people who scurry off the second they see him coming after them. his long legs and endurance allow him the ability to reach people with long strides in seconds. he doesn't get paid enough to chase people throughout the park. in fact, sometimes he wonders why he even became a scare actor in the first place. sure, the job was enough to fill the empty spaces in his schedule and keep him busy, but sometimes, the bratty kids and "you-don't-scare-me" men was not worth the headache and long work nights.
until the eve of halloween, that is.
the night before halloween, the biggest night of the year for horror lovers and adrenaline junkies, you decided to visit the park with your friends, wanting to experience it one last time before they close it down for the season. you'd been a few times already earlier that month, but the scary ambience thrilled you nonetheless. rin had noticed you every time you came, so he wasn't surprised to see you had come again on the eve of halloween.
it thrilled him, actually, in a way he hadn't felt before. and before long, you started to notice a masked man following you and your friends around the park. knowing it was just another scare actor, you shrugged it off, giggling to your friends of how "creepy" he was being, with the occasional "he's kinda", followed by a series of giggles and flirty comments.
but when you walked off on your own to find the restrooms and spotted rin following you still, a blanket of uneasiness shrouded you, prompting you to walk faster, further away from your friends. normally, you'd be flattered by a scare actor stalking you with the intent of offering another sinister thrill, but this felt different.
the park was booming with business, a sea of bodies slamming into you from all angles, the smell of alcohol and sweat burning your nostrils as you navigated your way through the park. rin kept up with you easily though, enjoying the sight of you cautiously looking over your shoulder to see if he was still following.
even in the bustling crowd, he never lost sight of you, keeping his eyes trained on your quivering figure. he was a wolf hunting down his prey and he reveled in the chase, actively pursuing you, letting you believe you had the upper hand.
after pushing your way through the crowd, you emerged sweaty and breathless, hoping you were able to lose rin in the crowd, and when you turned your head to gaze into the crowd, the green-haired stalker was nowhere to be seen, filling you with relief.
believing you were finally safe, you tried to circle back around the park to where your friends were last, only to find yourself in a much more deserted side of the park. there are a few ride attendants but very little people around. as you walked alone through the dark paths, a hand reached out from the small alleyway of two shops that were closed for the night, darkness blanketing over you and the man that pulled you in.
it was him ─ he had been able to keep up and outsmarted you. now, he had you in his grasp. he pushed you against the wall of the shop, your chest pressed firm into the brick layering. he leaned into you, his large body covering yours as he pulled up his mask, his teals eyes illuminating in the dull lighting, waves of hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he sprinkled feather-light kisses to your neck.
"i didn't think you'd really try to run from me," he rasped, rolling his hips against the curve of your ass, eliciting languid mewls from you. his hands found the curve your hips, and he pulled you back against him, rubbing his bulge desperately between your cheeks, low grunts seeping between his lips as he nibbled on your ear.
he's not sure what's come over him, but seeing you so scared, so desperate to get away from him ─ it excited him. he's followed many people around the park all month, instilled a great amount of fear into several other park goers who underestimated his skill, but nothing compared to the shock and fear in your eyes, the way your body trembled and writhed, the soft moans he pulled from you the faster he humped you from behind.
he hates dry humping. what was he, a horny 15 year old? but this was all he could get from you for now, biting down into the skin of your shoulder that earned a loud scream from you, a scream so loud it was sure to attract anyone close by. but that didn't deter him, your loud shrieks causing his cock to twitch and leak under his black jeans.
"f-fuck... 'm gonna cum," he groaned, snaking his hand into your skirt to rub at your needy clit, moaning when he feels how slick and eager you are for him, despite your supposed fear and attempts to push him away.
"looks like you're enjoying this too." his tone was monotonous but there was an edge of desperation to it, like he was holding himself back from doing more to you.
his long fingers slipped between your drenched folds, wasting no time to press his digits into your awaiting hole, curling them inside of you as he slowed his pace, wanting to make you cum first.
your arousal made it easy for him to punch his fingers in and out of you rapidly, the obscene sound of squelching sending a tingle down his spine as he rubbed his clothed shaft against your rear again. the feeling of your walls tightening around his fingers nearly sent him into oblivion, but he held back, telling himself to wait until you came first.
and you weren't that far. you erupted in moans and whines as the winding coil in your belly came undone, your gummy walls sucking rin's fingers back inside of you. your screams and moans were an unholy symphony to his ears and he followed you shortly after, painting his boxers with hot, sticky seed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. thank god you couldn't see his face right now.
when you arrived at the park, getting dry humped by a scare actor wasn't what you were expecting to happen tonight. but for rin, the second you stepped through the doors of the park, he knew he had to get you alone. he'd probably lose his job after this, but halloween was tomorrow and he couldn't care less. the job just wasn't worth it anymore, not that it ever was.
besides, he was just going to follow you home anyway.
“c’mon baby, you have to get up.” suguru smiled, the sunlight filtering in through the curtains casting a warm—almost angelic glow across his features. suguru was so beautiful when he woke up. his long hair cascaded down his back and shoulders, the silky locs always tickling you whenever he shifted in bed. his soft hands always held you close, providing you comfort and warmth you’d find in no one else.
waking up to him was like heaven. he was always gentle, kissing you awake with his lips against your chubby cheeks, tickling your sides until you broke out in a smile. he took care of you like you were something fragile everyday—especially when it came to your sleep. he believed in coaxing you awake carefully—that every single person in the world was the most vulnerable when unconscious, so when it came to you? he was as tender as possible, taking care of his darling little kitten.
“no..too early.” you whined, burying your face deeper into his bicep, his body heat providing you more comfort than a heated pillow.
“hm..alright.” he started, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “but, don’t be upset when you sleep half the day—time we could’ve been spending together…but you chose your bed over me.”
that made you crack an eye open to look at him.
the little bastard was still smiling, looking down at you teasingly. what a little—
“you’re twisting my words, suguru!” you pouted, flopping over onto your stomach to hide your face from him. “i just don’t wanna get up everyday at seven like you dooooo…”
“but when you wake up at the same time as i do, i get to be with you longer..” he murmured, playfully tickling your lower back, his fingers dangerously close to the waistband of your sleep shorts.
“stop teasing…”
“wake up and i won’t have to.”
“augghhhh suguru that’s so unfair…”
“you wouldn’t want me to play dirty then would you? attack while you’re asleep?”
He won't admit it—as it's fucking obvious—but he's one jealous, jealous boyfriend; even though he'd vehemently deny the fact. He craves your attention like it's oxygen personified, needing it directed at him 25/8
"Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe—"
"What is it, Jabber?"
"Why're ya not payin' any attention on me? Your boyfriend? The love of your life?"
"You're pushing your luck there, babes."
He doesn't take it too personally when other people flirt with you—so long as you don't give them the time of day or they don't push their luck too far. Definitely the type to talk about that person as if they're not right in front of the two of you
"Ugh, are ya ears suddenly all grainy or somethin', babe? Think a mosquito's buzzin' around us or shit. It's irritatin' the shit outta me."
"I dunno what you're talking about, Jabs. But, I do think a mosquito is sucking the daylight's out of me."
"...I'll just go..."
However, when you two fight, and you flirt with others just to piss him off? Oh, rationality is out of the picture for this man.
He gets possessive very easily through physical affection. He'd pull you close to his chest, snake an arm around your neck, and stare down at the poor person dragged into your lover's quarrel with murderous eyes
"Aw? Why all quiet and shit? Weren't you two just havin' the time of ya lives? C'mon, keep talkin'. I wanna hear what's so interestin' 'bout ya."
His blood boils, fury raging through his veins if the person so much just breathes at your direction to respond. His mind races with countless possibilities of teaching that person a lesson, because how dare they flirt with his partner right in front of his fucking face?
If he notices that you genuinely enjoy someone's attention (flirting or not), that's when his jealousy hits the hardest. He'd get quiet, eyes sharply focused on the scene (he's probably stalking) he's watching. He'd obverse your mannerisms, whether they're similar to how you act with him; and if they are, well, he'll teach the two of you a lesson
"Well, would'cha look at that... They actin' the same as with me. Guess I better show 'em some more 'appreciation' and allat."
Oh, but don't think you're safe with the stunt you'd just pulled. He might be a jealous man, but Jabber's also one petty motherfucker. Best believe he'd try to settle the score with you, one way or another. Be it not pulling his punches during a spar, poisoning you during your sleep, or even sabotaging your mission/job—yeah, you're not getting away that easily
"JABBER FUCKING WONGER! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"Ya done throwin' your li'l tantrums?"
"Tantrums?! YOU GOT ME FIRED, YOU ASSHOLE!!"
"The fuck did ya think I'd do after the shit you pulled?"
What do you expect? Jabber's one jealous and petty man
You know this. He (internally) knows this. The other Raiders know this. Hell, even the Cleaners know this fact so well that often times, you become the target of his enemies' attention (not the Cleaners, though, they're smarter than that)
One time, you were kidnapped (very much against your will) and within just under an hour or so, Jabber had already found your location, killed your kidnappers, and bought you back to the Raiders' base for first-aid
"Heh, there are ya, babe. Been lookin' everywhere for ya, y'know?"
"...Just untie me, please, Jabs."
"Don't need to tell me twice."
The type to definitely tease you for being weak enough to be kidnapped. The moment you passed out from exhaustion, however, he becomes strangely quiet, his grip around your waist tightening (Did I mention he's holding you up like a sack of potatoes?)
"Y'know, this's embarrassin', even for ya."
"The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Ya got kidnapped."
"Wow. Thanks for stating the obvious, baby. I can feel the love you have for me."
"Heh, what'cha get for bein' weak."
"Man, fuck you."
He doesn't really play around if it's you on the line. One of his "motto" in life is that he's the only person allowed to hurt or even kill you, accidentally or otherwise. No person has that privilege, except for him and only him. But don't fret, this man really does love you
"Are you and [Name] really in love?"
"Huh...?
"You two are the most toxic couple I've ever seen. Be honest, do you even love them, really?"
"I killed six people before breakfast 'cuz they annoyed them."
"...That counts for something, I suppose..."
Bonus: Even if Jabber doesn't verbalise it, he loves hearing reassurance from you. If you grab his face and tell him he's your favourite person, he'd call you cheesy while having the biggest grin on his face. He'd turn to whoever is unfortunate enough to witness the scene, like he'd just won the lotto. If you stake your claim on him with a surprise kiss out in the public, he'd honestly continue it until someone calls the Hell Guard on your asses
y'know, i can see some resemblance with Jabber and Lohen (from Genshin Impact)... maybe that's why I fucking love Lohen, man. I have 17k primos saved for him, but I'm on a 50/50 + I'm hoping that Tuonto or Antony Chen pull on my account so fingers crossed!
i need f/f content for chlroinde like she sso pretty and fine and she has a gun that could go down my throat as she finishes inside me bc shes amazing like that!1!1! (sorry im rambling)
killshot.
+18!
cw: transfem!clorinde x f!reader. overly descriptive. cunnilingus. edging. a little biting. gunplay. breeding/creampie. (half proofread)
wc: 2.3k
summary: lesbian sex and a little gunplay. tasty!
a/n: the whole gun thing awakened something in me that had been dormant for too long, so this is as self-indulgent as it gets too (horny jail). i love freaky requests, tbh
Now, how did you get into this situation with the Champion Duelist? The last few memories you had were of the tranquil conversation you both shared over warm tea at her home—before the world became a blur of desire and pure, unadulterated bliss.
Perhaps she was overly stressed at the moment—that job was utterly demanding of the poor woman, and everyone needs to blow off some steam from time to time. You simply didn’t expect the usually put-together Fontainian to be so… intense.
The sudden goosebumps on your soft skin managed to bring you back from attempting to recall any sorts of details, all due the faint caress of Clorinde’s gloved hand. “Look at me,” she purred as her digits trailed up the curve of your hip, “I want to see you.”
And her command would be followed, naturally. The attention she brought to your newly uncovered clit with her clothed fingertips was nothing short of maddening, and if that weren’t enough, the manner in which she palmed the swell of your breast threatened to draw a whimper from the depths of your throat. It wasn’t to her surprise that you’d seek to do whatever she said just to feel more contact—you were just so good for her, weren’t you?
She had managed to lay you on her plush bed what seemed like hours ago, even if it was only mere minutes that had passed by, just to unrobe you and have you exposed to her lustful gaze. Were you truly losing track of time already? The intimate moment had just begun, and she would make sure to enjoy it wholly, even if it felt like an eternity to you.
A low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through Clorinde’s chest could be heard from where she hovered over you, and it sent a shiver down your spine that couldn’t be concealed. With a hand between your parted legs and the other resting on your ribcage, she leaned closer to your ear to take in the aroma of your perfume mingling with increasing arousal.
“Squirming already?” Her words were dripping with a sensuality you weren’t quite used to yet, but was oh so enticing.
You were flustered beyond measure at this, your reaction being to shudder beneath the plump lips that now traced the column of your throat with vexatious provocation. Open-mouthed kisses were spread over your skin like sweet honey, leaving trails of saliva at their wake as she made sure to make her way through the valley of your tits just to turn you into that malleable mess she knew you could be.
Through the haze of the situation, you managed to feel the leather of her gloves against your inner thighs and hear her usually serene voice turn into a low grumble. “Keep them spread.”
Next thing you knew, Clorinde’s languid tongue glided through your slick folds to gather whatever evidence of your growing desire she could to sate her thirst, practically moaning against your cunt as her fingers massaged the supple flesh of your legs to keep herself grounded.
Surely you could feel her gaze boring into your face, all to gauge your reaction to the way she so desperately began to eat you out like a starving woman, though you couldn’t meet her eyes. Your head had already lolled back into the pillows at the delicious chills she had caused you with a simple suck to the puffy bundle of nerves she had been teasing for too long.
You were putting on a show for the expert duelist now; moaning loudly at every slurp and obscene kiss, your hips surging upwards to grind against her mouth, arching your back to display the swollen peaks of your nipples. If only she hadn’t been determined to fuck you into oblivion soon enough, she would’ve found her own release right then and there.
And so her heavenly ministrations continued. Her trained digits dug into the moldable skin of your ass to keep you still as her nose now pressed roughly against your mound. Pleasure, white-hot and all consuming, radiated from your core and set your nerve endings alight at such lewd stimulation.
She kept her lips wrapped around your clit for some time, all to enjoy the tangy taste despite the obvious chaos of mixed fluids now dripping from you and her chin alike. She could tell you were close already, the way your moans turned frantic and desperate as your legs jerked around her head being evidence enough of the impending orgasm that threatened to wash over you like a tidal wave.
A wet pop suddenly drew you out of your blissful trance, and you instantly let out a whimper of protest as you now struggled to look down and meet those purple eyes through a pool of tears. She was already pulling away from your needy cunt with glistening lips and lightly flushed cheeks.
“Why? What are you…?” Your breathless words were cut off by Clorinde’s as she busied herself with spreading your legs further.
“Hush,” she started, sitting back on her knees to lower the new pair of deep indigo pants she had recently bought. “Don’t be so greedy.”
You were rightfully upset at her—she had taken that glorious climax away from you, which had begun to slowly subside only to leave you sensitive to any sort of touch. You were too far gone to realize, however, that her idea was for that to be the case from the very first moment she lay her hands upon you.
Out of sheer astonishment, a gasp was caught in your throat when her thick, hard cock proudly jutted out of her clothes. The dim lighting was enough for you to catch a glimpse of a growing bead of pre-cum dripping down the shaft, and now all resentment was gone. The aching need to be filled was back, and more intense than before.
All she had to do was line the swollen head of her dick with your sopping entrance to draw a wanton mewl from your mouth, and she knew she had you on the palm of her hand.
Using barely a third of her strength, she pushed your thighs up and apart to give herself leeway to plunge into you in a swift motion that forced you to take her entire length in an instant. Needless to say you moaned at the sudden intrusion, and despite the slight pain, you were so eager to take her that you instinctively fluttered around her just to welcome her. She stretched and filled you so perfectly.
“You’re so… tight,” she groaned through gritted teeth, her hands now propping her up as they found their spot on each side of your head against the mattress.
Your velvety walls now gripped her like a vice, and she was beyond the point of attempting to be gentle or teasing due the exquisite feeling of your pussy gripping her tightly. Your senses were utterly flooded, even the scent of shared arousal permeated the air, a musky and intoxicating aroma that left you both lightheaded.
Despite being thoughtful enough to give you short-lived seconds to get accustomed to her size, she set a pace with her hips that harbored all her pent-up need for pleasure afterwards. She hadn’t even fully rid herself of her uniform yet, but that didn’t stop her from pounding into you in a steady rhythm that quickly built in intensity.
The sound of the creaking of the bed and cries of rapture filled the room, mingling with those of the headboard banging against the wall as strands of Clorinde’s hair curtained your face. Her regularly neat ponytail had untidied due to her harsh motions, and you’d be foolish to believe this wasn’t the most bewitching sight you had ever witnessed.
Angling her cock just right, she managed to rub the most delicate spot of your insides that sent a flash of electricity down your stomach towards your cunt and made your toes curl. Your legs wrapped around her hips unconsciously, drawing her closer. In spite of being utterly hypnotized by the heat, she lowered herself to capture one of your nipples in her mouth and bit hard enough to make you yelp—she soothed the sting with a flick of her tongue, ripping a hard moan from your chest.
She rammed against your most erogenous zone with fervent enthusiasm, clutching the sheets beneath you in her fists at the overwhelming feeling pooling in her lower stomach. A sheen of sweat now layered your bodies as the physical activity grew rougher, more demanding, and through erratic movements and tensing of her muscles, the duelist got a sudden idea—she didn’t vacillate this once.
She always prided herself on being methodical, always taking steps back before making a decision. Her mind was numbed by the passion of the situation, however, so all inhibitions and hesitations were out the window. All she wished to do was turn up the heat, to make you moan and writhe beneath her in an orgasm you couldn’t control.
She unholstered her pistol in a deliberate, measured motion, the leather whispering as it surrendered its hold before she trailed it upward against your middle. Its muzzle now sat against your lower lip, forcing your eyes to widen at the obviously dangerous position you were in while she continued to fuck you like it was all the most common of things.
At your clear confusion, a wolfish smirk crept upon her face. Such an adorable thing you were, still moaning and clinging to her cock even when she held her weapon against you.
“Suck it,” she ordered in a murmur, voice strained though still authoritative enough to make you whimper.
The handgun was discernibly unloaded, and its safety lever was locked. With no true peril in the request, you immediately relaxed and limited yourself to wrapping your kiss-swollen lips around the barrel to present her the picture-perfect image she seeked.
She kept her eyes on your half-lidded ones, merely watching you coating her firearm in saliva that slowly started dripping down the corners of your mouth. Seeing you struggle to indulge her little whim while your cunt squelched as she plunged into it with single-minded focus.
It wasn’t long after that your muscles clenched and fluttered around her cock, trying to suck her deeper, to hold her inside you. You were so close, teetering on the brink of a mind-shattering climax. The coil of heat in your lower stomach grew tighter and tighter with each passing second, threatening to snap at any moment.
She wasn’t far behind either, and you could notice from the way her thrusts became erratic, as well as the hand that held the pistol in your mouth slowly began to shake. All she wished for now was for you to shatter into a million pieces beneath her to take in your beautiful, breathless form.
You only pulled away from the muzzle to gasp to moan for her, these wanton cries having shifted from mere mewls of pleasure into desperate, urgent ones. The meaning behind them was clear—you were utterly lost to the throes of lust thanks to her, and all she had to do was push you just a little further over the edge to have what she desired.
“Oh, no. You were being so good,” she cooed in faux disappointment, her dick burying to the hilt with each brutal charge. “Don’t stop now, my dear.”
Her free hand found your clit once again, rubbing quick, merciless circles on the sensitive surface just to gauge a reaction out of you—good thing you were overly generous.
The intense stimulation became too much a few seconds in, and the reaction your body had to it made her tense up. Your legs began to jerk and push her closer, inner walls clamping down like a vice around her thick length as your back arched clean off the mattress. An expression of pure pleasure etched on your face, snapping the thin string of saliva that still connected your lips to the barrel of her gun.
Clorinde’s experience sent electrifying shocks of ecstasy through your veins, forcing you to finally find the climax you’d desperately accept. Due to the way she had denied you of it earlier, this one was overwhelming you beyond belief.
You let out a silent scream of rapture as your body writhed beneath hers, juices gushing out around her cock to dampen her pants and dripping down onto the bed below. You were clearly drowning in a sea of pleasure, consumed by the sheer intensity of your release, and the duelist only followed close behind.
Your release crashed over you like a cold tidal wave, sweeping you away in a torrent of mind-numbing bliss as the intruder that had brought you there continued its relentless assault to extend your crescendo even further.
You were too lost in the precious ache between your legs to even look down, though a guttural moan caught your attention. Clorinde’s own climax hit her once your cunt squeezed her persistently enough to milk her of every last drop of cum she could possibly deliver. Thick ropes of hot release painted your inner walls white, the pistol long forgotten among messy sheets just so she could tightly hold onto your hips and fill you up properly.
She pulsed and throbbed inside you as her head fell back with a shuddering gasp, exposing the column of her throat for you under the candlelight. Your gaze was still clouded by the slowly ebbing orgasm, though you could’ve sworn the way in which drops of sweat dripped down her temples and neck were about to make you beg for more.
Slowly, with muscles still spasming, she drew back just to take a better look at the new artwork she had created—you. The creamy ring you had left encircling the base of her dick sent a shiver down her spine, though the sight of you spread out and thoroughly fucked was one she wished to commit to memory.
She wasn’t the type to be openly vulnerable, however. “My new pants are ruined,” she muttered as she gave your trembling thighs a soft squeeze.
She knew that next time, she’d have to ravish you fully bare, and she couldn’t wait.
Hiii there !! May I req for headcanons of Michael Kaiser w/ Shy!Reader pleasee >.<
──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!
ᡣ𐭩 notes: kaiser’s the type to call you ‘mine’ in front of everyone — just to see your cheeks flush, then act completely clueless about it.
ᡣ𐭩 cw: fluff <33, just kaiser being smug lol (not proofread)
✦ the first time he met you, you barely even spoke a word to him — sure, you were polite. you made brief eye contact, gave a small nod when he said something, maybe even smiled once or twice… but that was it. no flirting, no giggles, no starstruck stare like the others usually gave him. which of course, made him very intrigued bc why weren’t you reacting??? why weren’t you swooning around him like everyone else???
✦ “… you’re kinda quiet,” he grins one day, sliding beside you like a wolf approaching its prey. “do i happen to intimidate you, hübsche??” you blink, then look away as your cheeks turn bright pink. he swears something in his chest clicks. the way you fluster so easily, the way you still don’t fall over yourself to impress him… it makes him obsessively curious.
✦ he teases you constantly — brushes your hand on purpose or pokes you just to get a rise. calls you ‘meine liebe’ in a low, teasing voice just to see if you’ll flinch. when you do actually get visibly flustered??? he preens like a damn peacock. and if you ever give him a rare smile?? he short circuits for 0.2 seconds. (he’s in love and doesn’t know it yet)
✦ he’s sooo overprotective without admitting to it. one afternoon, the two of you stopped by your usual coffee shop — the one you always go to, where most of the staff there already have your order memorized. you insisted on paying, even though he would’ve done it in a heartbeat. when you stepped up to the counter, the barista smiled a little too much and asked, “the usual again?” (…okay, maybe he was just being nice but kaiser??? absolutely not having it.)
“i don’t like that guy,” he mutters, frowning as he leans against the counter. “he looked at you weird.” you blink at him. “kaiser… he’s literally just the barista. i come here all the time.” he scoffs. “yeah, i noticed... bit too familiar for someone who just makes coffee, don’t you think?”
✦ the first time he calls you ‘mine’ in front of his teammates, you nearly forget how to breathe. he says it so casually too — “yeah, she’s mine.” then glances back at you, lips twitching. “what?? don’t look so shocked, liebe.” you can’t even look him in the eye for an hour & he thinks it’s adorable. you still remember how he murmured “cute” under his breath and tugged you a little closer after.
✦ he’ll randomly tug on your hoodie strings or the ends of your sleeves when he wants your attention. and when you look up at him??? he just shrugs, “nothing much, just checking if you’re still shy around me.”
(and truthfully??? you always are, and he lowkey lives for it)
with fins, albedo, lyney, wriothesley, VENTI, thoma, CHILDE, ayato, ifa, heizou (genshin impact), ASHVEIL, mr reca, gallagher, caelus, sampo (honkai: star rail), lighter, WISE, harumasa, manato (zenless zone zero), byakuya togami, rantaro amami, nagito komaeda (danganronpa) AIKU!!!, bunny, kaiser (blue lock), sydney, robin (degrees of lewdity)
contains dubcon, reader is hesitant at first, recording, fingering, missionary, tit slapping, overall its kinda rough but who cares ♡
everyone deserves a boyfriend who loves recording you while you’re having sex. and lucky you, you got just that. he’s not necessarily a big photography guy, but watching one too many erotic videos put the idea of recording his pretty girl riding his cock into his head. “c’mon, pretty, jus’ this once,” he mutters while kissing you stupid, “lemme have something to come back to, ah, wanna see y’r cute pussy all the time.” and you really don’t find it in you to say no, not when he’s rubbing your tits sore and your mind is all hazy. so you nod, and he pounces on you. in the following days, you see him browsing through many camera announcements, trying to find one both practical and efficient in capturing your sex life. once he’s somewhat happy, he wastes no time, or money, and buys it.
the next thing you know, he has you laying on his lap, massaging your clothed cunt as his new camera records each of his moves. “a-ah, f-fuck.. ngh..” your moans fill the room, accompanied by the squelching sounds of your pussy juices squirting out of you, ruining your prettiest pair of underwear. his fingers rub your puffy folds, occasionally brushing over your twitching clit, and he smiles at the sight of the wet patch on your panties. “hear that?,” he groans, “all wet and sloppy because you know you’re bein’ recorded. might as well make u a pretty porn star huh?” you whine, shaking your head. “no? but baby, you’re made for the camera.”
the next scene he records shows you sprawled on your back, face flushed and drool out of your gaping lips, as he fucks his fat cock into your hole. he holds the camera as he rams into you, and he’s having the time of his life switching the focus. he holds the camera near your pussy, all stretched and sore from welcoming his shaft inside you, gripping him so tight he wouldn’t be able to pull out even if he wanted to. your puffy clit his the base of his cock each time he pushes into you, squirt and fluids spilling out and wetting his crotch. he moves the camera, angling it to have a close up of your pretty tits bouncing and swaying with each move. he reaches and pulls and tugs on your nipples, slapping the fat mounds and squeezing them right after.
still, the prettiest sight is undoubtedly your face. oh, how he loves how your gaze wanders off, fucked too deep to think, drunk on his cock as the camera rolls.
janainaart
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
2087
origamiaround
theartofmadeline
