summary: Kento Nanami hates overtime, but who is he to say no when his boss asks him to go check on his wife while he's out of town?
word count: 4.2k
content: NSFW, 18+, smut, infidelity, heavy lactation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, degradation, dirty talk, squirting, breeding kink, restraints, counter sex, wet & messy
Kento’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he stares at his phone nestled in the cupholder, limbs taut with aggravation as the bored voice of his boss continues on, “She hasn’t been answering my calls all day, and I’m not flying back for another week yet. I know you’re probably about to leave the office, but I’m going to need you to stop at my house and check on her first, Nanami.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, the words ‘OVERTIME’ flashing red behind his eyes and drawing forth a fresh surge of anger that has him contemplating the consequences of smashing his phone on the pavement outside and finding a new job entirely.
Today has been shit.
Capital S, Shit.
His asshole boss has been out of town for nearly a week already, every client is somehow ten times more unbearable than usual, the incompetence across the office has become a goddamn disease, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that that piece of shit is doing anything but keeping his dick in his pants while his wife and their new baby are left home alone.
His very attractive, very lovely wife who probably has no idea what a waste of oxygen her husband is.
You’re too fucking good for him.
And you’re also too good for Kento, who’s spent more nights than he’d care to admit furiously fisting his cock to the memory of whatever tantalizing outfit you’d turned up at the office wearing that day.
And seeing you pregnant?
While the knowledge that you were now entirely stuck with that undeserving asshole sent his blood boiling, Kento could hardly complain about the sight of you during those months, his shaft straining painfully in his slacks every time he laid eyes upon your gloriously swollen, heavy breasts.
And the cum he splattered all over the mirror and sink after inevitably rushing out of his office when you finally left? Well, that was between him and the four walls of the men’s bathroom.
So after the awful day he’s already had, Kento’s not sure he can imagine a worse type of overtime than waltzing into your house and playing the part of a dutiful employee checking in on his boss’s wife, acting like he doesn’t want to fuck you so bad it’s driving him up a goddamn wall.
But he’ll fucking do it.
Of course he will.
“Sure,” he replies tersely, before hanging up and peeling out of the parking lot.
᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
She’s finally asleep.
Sighing weakly in relief, you close the door to your daughter’s bedroom and shuffle down the hallway. You make it all the way to the kitchen before you’re forced to lean heavily against the countertop, gritting your teeth as another wave of discomfort radiates from your sore, swollen breasts.
“Hello?” a familiar, male voice tentatively calls out in a hushed tone.
You whip around, still clutching the counter for support, eyes widening at the side of Kento Nanami standing in the doorway to your kitchen.
“Hi?” you respond, your heart doing a somersault as you drink in the sight of his tall, muscled form.
He twirls a key around his finger twice before catching it in the palm of his hand and stuffing it in his pocket. “I apologize for barging in, but your spare key hiding spot is shit, and I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and wake the baby.”
“It’s okay, Nanami,” you assure him, the erratic thrumming in your chest far from a feeling of fear.
For whatever reason, he appears to be attempting to avert his eyes after glancing over at you quickly, roughly running a hand through his hair. “Your husband asked me to check on you. He said he hasn’t heard from you all day,” he explains carefully.
“Well, I figured it would be rude to interrupt the wild orgies he pays for with the company credit card,” you deadpan.
Nanami’s jaw ticks, “He—”
“I’m well aware of what he does.”
“Then why—”
“Because I realized too late, and I’m too tired to do anything about it right now,” you sigh, wincing at the continuous ache of your breasts.
And it’s then that you realize why Nanami’s been looking anywhere but at you directly.
You’re wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and knee-high socks, which in and of itself isn’t overtly reprehensible, given that you’re in your own house, you have a four-month-old child, and you can’t remember the last time you got a full night’s rest. The issue is that your breasts are so sore and tender right now, you haven’t been able to even look at a bra in days.
Which, once again, wouldn’t be an issue alone in the privacy of your home…when one of your husband’s employees isn’t desperately trying not to acknowledge the fact that two large wet spots have soaked through your shirt.
“I should…” you trail off awkwardly, glancing around the room in hopes that you left one of your flannel over shirts lying within reach.
“It’s fine,” Nanami blurts out, scratching the back of his head and studiously feigning interest in the collection of party invites and shopping lists stuck to the side of your fridge.
᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
It’s not fine.
It’s anything but fine.
It’s a complete fucking disaster.
Kento hasn’t seen you since you gave birth. And despite how exhausted he knows you are—he can see it in the bags under your eyes and the limpness of your posture— your soft pregnancy glow has transformed into a postpartum radiance that has his breath catching in his throat each time his eyes sweep over you.
You’re fucking stunning.
And somehow, he knows your husband hasn’t noticed this. Hasn’t told you how incredible you are, how fantastic motherhood looks on you. It sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through him, the mere thought that he could bear to let himself stray from you—especially now, at such a vulnerable time.
But any hopes Kento had of trying not to commit this sight of you to memory were swiftly dashed the moment he noticed the wet spots on your shirt.
Even now, when he’s looking at a box of cereal on the counter as if it’s the most interesting thing in the entire world, every layer of his inner psyche is rapidly overheating at the thought of your heavy, swollen breasts. The milk leaking from them, soaking through your clothes and inevitably trailing down your stomach.
He needs to fucking leave. Now.
“I should go—“
“—do you want some tea?”
You both speak at the same time, and when Kento turns to face you again, you’ve slipped a blue flannel shirt on, buttoning it up partway. As if his traitorous cock will somehow forget what he now knows is obscured underneath the added layer of material. But despite the growing discomfort swelling and throbbing against the zipper of his pants, he concedes, his need to quell the apparent loneliness in your eyes with a moment of company winning out over his lust-addled desire to disappear to the nearest private place to jerk off.
He’s thankful to sit after you pour him a cup, hiding any and all evidence of what a terrible man he is beneath the table, one leg idly bouncing as he wills his hard on to go down. It’s a big ask, though, given that you’re probably not even aware of what you’re doing to him when you lean your body over the kitchen island with your mug clutched between your fingers as you idly chat with him, your oversized shirt just barely masking the flash of pink panties it reveals beneath each time your shoulders bounce as you laugh.
He’s two seconds from excusing himself to put his fucking dick in the freezer.
His chair scrapes against the tile floor as he pushes it back, having decided he’s at his limit, but he pauses when a pained sound escapes your lips.
“Are you alright?” he asks, hurrying over to where you’re now pressing your forehead against the island countertop, whimpering softly. His hand hovers for a moment before he opts to gently touch your shoulder, just to let you know he’s there.
Your fingers scrape over the marble as you breathe out in a quiet voice, “No.”
As if on instinct, Kento begins to rub small, comforting circles into your upper back, his tentative touches growing more confident when he feels your tense body behind to relax slightly.
“What’s wrong? What can I do?”
You whine again, standing up straighter but keeping your back to him as you clutch at your chest. “They…they hurt so bad.”
Kento’s halfway certain his soul has left his body as he watches, stunned, while you slide your hands up under your shirt and squeeze at your breasts, exhaling a chorus of breathy little sounds like the fucked up cherry on top.
“Do you need to…” he trails off, and though you can’t see from where he’s standing behind you, he vaguely gestures in the general direction where he can only surmise the baby’s room is.
“It’s…they’re clogged,” you whisper, elbows lifting up and revealing the small of your back as you begin to knead your tits desperately. “They’ve been so sore and swollen for days.”
Kento bites his lower lip, mentally steadying himself for a moment before he asks, “Tell me how I can help.”
“Can you grab a clean washcloth out of the drawer next to the sink and soak it in hot water?”
He swiftly complies with your request, returning moments later after wringing out the small towel and waiting for it to cool down slightly. You’re still using the counter to steady yourself, so he approaches you from behind and goes to hand you the washcloth, only to find his hand immediately pinned between your own and one of your breasts.
You let out a whimpering cry of relief, and it takes everything in him not to let out the noise rumbling in his own throat as you squeeze his hand over your tit.
“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “It just feels so…”
“It’s okay,” Kento murmurs. “Relax.”
Internally, every single warning bell inside of his head is blaring indignantly over the fact that he’s got his hand under his boss’s wife’s shirt, and he’s massaging her lactating breasts with a hot towel while she whimpers and presses into his touch.
But your fingers are laced with his, and you’re not telling him to stop.
In fact, you’re begging him to keep going, keeping a hold of his left hand when he switches the towel to his right, urging him to massage both of your tits at the same time. And who is he to tell you no?
Kento’s fairly certain his balls are going to be aching for days when he feels the warm liquid that begins to coat his fingers.
Fucking fuck.
What the fuck is he doing?
Then your back arches as you outright moan when he brazenly toys with both of your nipples at the same time, milk squirting out, your ass pressing directly into his throbbing erection.
And fuck it, fuck dignity, because Kento’s on the verge of coming in his pants.
But then you spin around to face him, your back pressed into the island as you gaze at him shyly and say, “I…I think I need more.”
Your eyes flick from his mouth back down to your breasts, and he cups the side of your face as he asks, “Are you sure?”
You nod, slipping your shirt off entirely and tossing it aside, and Kento’s mouth goes dry as he stares at the trails of milk leaking from your tits, wondering how he’d ever thought to call today ‘Shitty’.
He motions toward the counter, his large hands grasping your waist to help you get seated up on top of it, fingertips hesitant to pull away from your lacy panties when he spies the wet spot over your cunt.
Kento has never thought of himself as a greedy man. Far from it, actually.
But the moment his mouth latches onto one of your hot, swollen breasts, pulling a shameless moan from your pretty lips as your thighs wrap around him, the sweet taste of your milk hitting his tongue, he feels fucking insatiable.
His mind is a buzz of static as he drinks from your tits, all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, precum soaking through his boxers and slacks. Your fingers tangle in his hair, the heel of your foot pressing into his back and pulling him closer, and he groans, one hand grasping your upper thigh as he teases your nipples between his teeth and squeezes a spray of liquid onto his gluttonous tongue.
“Feels so good, Nanami,” you whine, fingertips sliding down the front of his dress shirt, catching on each button.
“Kento,” he exhales, licking up the milk dripping down your chest.
“Kento,” you moan, tugging hard on the tousled blond strands that have fallen onto his forehead.
And at the sound of your breathy, wrecked tone moaning out his name for the first time, every nerve ending in Kento’s body goes up in flames.
᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
Nothing has ever felt this good.
Nothing.
Kento Nanami’s sinful mouth is latched onto your heavy, engorged tits, greedily drinking every spurt of breast milk that comes leaking out of you, the flow growing steadier with each lap and squeeze.
He has no fucking clue that most of your impromptu visits to the office are actually to see him. To talk to him, if only for a few moments. Kento Nanami, who has always treated you with unfailing kindness under his sometimes brash exterior. Who extends more patience toward you than all of his coworkers combined.
He has no idea how trapped you feel in your marriage, how often you’ve longed for the bland touch of your husband in bed to be his.
He doesn’t know how many times you’ve brought yourself over the edge with your fingers with his face lingering in your mind, the rough, teasing sound of words you’ve imagined in his voice playing out in your head like the most sinful soundtrack you’ve ever heard.
And now he’s grunting and moaning as he makes a mess of both of you, his lips and chin gleaming with the same wet, sticky milk that’s all over your chest and thighs and his hands and pooling on the countertop beneath you.
It’s filthy.
It’s so fucking filthy.
And maybe it’s wrong.
But you’re so desperate for him. For this. You need more. You need it so badly, you can hardly breathe. Searing desire is coiled so tightly in your abdomen, you’re trembling with restraint, aching with the desire to beg him to fuck you. You know he wants it, too, though. It’s hard to miss the thick, mouth-watering outline of his cock straining against his pants, like a beacon waiting to fulfill your darkest desires.
It’s a line you know he won’t cross unless you ask for it.
“Kento,” you murmur again, pulling his face up to meet yours.
“Mmm?” he asks, pupils blown wide with lust, and you can tell he’s slightly dazed, drunk off of the taste of the milk leaking from your tits.
You lean closer, letting your lips hover over his, Kento’s breath mingling with your own as you whisper, “Please touch me.”
He gently pushes your thighs further apart, carefully running a finger over the front of your panties. His voice is a rough, gravelly sound as he asks, “Here?”
A thrill shoots up your spine at the feather-light touch. “Yes.”
“More?” he questions, his lips brushing against your mouth as he hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them aside.
“More,” you keen, bucking into him as his knuckles graze your clit.
He slides a finger through your folds, visibility shuddering as he comments, “You’re so fucking wet.”
“For you,” you pant, trying to resist the urge to shamelessly start riding his hand.
Kento’s mouth engulfs yours in a rough, hungry kiss at the same moment he slides a thick digit into your cunt, and he swallows down the whimpering cry of pleasure that spills out of you. His lips are relentless as they slot against yours, and you arch into him, every part of your body drawn to his blazing touch on your skin.
You can taste the remnants of your breastmilk on Kento’s lips, but you don’t care as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you so deeply it makes your toes curl, one hand cradling the back of your head while he stuffs a second finger into your hole.
And just when you thought you couldn’t get any more sensitive under his touch, he dips his head back down to continue ravishing your forgotten breasts, pumping his soaked fingers in and out of your pussy all the while.
“Kento,” you whimper, chest heaving as you press your heels into the cabinets below, every muscle in your body going taut under the onslaught of arousal coursing through you.
“Can you come for me?” he asks, his gravelly, barely restrained tone searing itself into your mind.
It’s the combination of his thumb massaging circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves and the sight of milk dripping down his chin as he messily drinks from you that sends you tumbling over the edge, the rubber band inside of you snapping like a whip as your orgasm washes over you. There’s an unfamiliar feeling that accompanies it, clear liquid squirting from your cunt and soaking the front of Kento’s dress shirt.
Kento’s eyes darken a fraction as he grasps your chin, thumb pressing into your bottom lip. “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing you. “Good fucking girl.”
Hand reaching between your bodies, you grasp his cock through his slacks, marveling at how maddeningly thick he feels.
“I want you to fuck me now, Kento,” you tell him in no uncertain terms, rubbing your palm up and down his erection for good measure. “Fuck me like I’m a bad girl.”
Kento growls, hand palming the side of your neck, thumb caressing your collarbones, “You have no fucking clue what you do to me.”
“Show me.”
You’ve hardly had a chance to unbutton his pants before he’s slipping your panties down, stuffing them into his pocket. His hands come up to undo his tie, but rather than tossing the silky material aside, he asks, “Do you trust me?”
You nod in response, and he steps around the island, pulling your hands behind your back and tying your wrists together snugly with the yellow and black material. Anticipation zings through your chest, a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your sensitive cunt.
“Is that too tight?”
You shake your head. “It’s perfect.”
He wastes no time in shedding the rest of his clothes, and you find yourself pressing hard against the restraints once you see his cock in all its glory, thick and flushed and so fucking big that you whimper.
You spread your legs wide for him again as he steps between them, rubbing the leaking head of his cock against your damp slit. He notches it at your entrance, tilting your chin to his mouth and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”
Kento’s hands grasp your hips as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance, slowly easing into you. He massages your breasts, his hot mouth nipping and lapping a trail from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe while he pushes deeper into your cunt. When he eventually bottoms out, you’re both breathing hard, and his tie is fighting for its life to keep your wrists bound behind you.
“Are you okay?”
You let out a huff of air, your entire body poised to implode with the weight of the lust and pleasure raging inside of you. “Fuck me like you mean it, Kento.”
Whatever thinly veiled restraint was left in him crumbles to dust at your request, and Kento tugs you closer to the edge of the counter as he begins to pound into your cunt at a ruthless pace, splitting you open right in the middle of your kitchen. The cool marble is slick and sticky beneath you, covered in a myriad of filthy fluids that continue to leak out of you.
“So beautiful,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough snap of his hips.
“I feel like a whore,” you admit, biting your lower lip, tits bouncing heavily with his punishing thrusts.
A short, dark laugh escapes Kento’s lips, his brows raising. He leans in, stuffing his cock deep into your cunt as he presses his mouth to yours and murmurs, “Well you’re my pretty, filthy whore.”
If your husband talked to you like this, you’d slap him. But from Kento…the liquid heat that churns in your belly is anything but anger.
“Am I?” you ask, trying to sound as innocent as you can when he’s balls deep inside of you.
“Yeah,” he rasps, not missing a beat as he catches on to what you want to hear. He squeezes your tits, milk squirting everywhere. “My dirty slut. You’re such a good girl, making a such a fucking mess. Squirting all over me while your tits leak everywhere.”
You gasp as he leans down, burying his face in your tits, latching on to one of your nipples and drinking deeply from you again. The combined feeling of him sucking on your breasts and the push and drag of his shaft inside of you leaves you cock drunk, begging and babbling senselessly as tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes.
“Wanna put another baby in you, keep these nice and round and full for me,” he grunts, letting milk spray from your tits and leak down your bodies, dripping down his cock and coating his balls.
The thought leaves you dizzy and breathless, keening as you imagine Kento filling you over and over with his seed. Waking up each morning to his cock already stuffed inside of you, fucking the previous night’s cum right back into your needy cunt. Tying you up to your bed posts with that goddamn tie. The satisfaction on his face when your breasts grow heavy and your belly grows round again for him, awakening something so feral inside of him he’s incapable of keeping his mouth off of your tits and his cock from the heat between your thighs whenever you’re alone.
Rational thinking is a thing of the past as you choke out, nearly sobbing with pleasure, cunt squelching wetly as he pounds into you, “Fill me, Kento. Please.”
Kento curses, leaning in to caress the side of your face as he mutters, “My filthy girl.”
“Yours,” you pant. “I’m yours.”
He captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss, fingers grasping your hips for purchase as he plunges into your cunt, drawing shuddering, unabashed moans out of you. “Come all over my cock then,” he instructs, his rough tone dragging down your spine, fingers toying with your clit while your pussy clenches down on every inch of him.
And when he leans down, holding eye contact with you as he licks up a forgotten trail of milk rolling down one of your tits, there’s nothing that can stop the searing explosion of pleasure that ignites inside of you, your entire body trembling with the relentless, burning hot flood of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.
He follows moments after you, driving his length in to the hilt as he groans, fingers gripping you tightly, his thick cock pulsing heavily inside of you as he fills your cunt deeply with ropes of cum. As fucked out as you feel, you can’t help but whine at the ceaseless arousal that stirs within your gut as your pussy quivers around the stretch of his cock, milking every drop of Kento’s seed from him.
Kento feels you subtly rocking your hips back into him, and his answering chuckle is like warm honey as he reaches between you. He plays with your overstimulated clit, pressing gentle kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as his seed begins to leak out of you. You moan softly, head falling against his shoulder, pleasure mounting inside of you once more. Leveraging what remains of his softening cock, he slowly fucks his cum back inside of you, his rough whispers of praise a warm caress against the shell of your ear as your entire body dissolves into one last blissful climax that leaves you completely boneless.
You have all of two minutes to bask in the afterglow, Kento’s hands and lips tenderly mapping out your body, when the sound of your phone ringing on the countertop beside you startles you both. Your gaze meets his as you both see the unwelcome name that flashes on the screen, and he promptly flips your phone over and scoops you into his arms as he makes his way toward the living room.
“If I’m working overtime, I’m making this a double shift.”
Kinktober day 3 - Cockwarming - Junker Queen (Odessa)
Usual content - NSFW - 18+ ONLY - Fem reader - Trans girl Dez
The feeling of her was all around you, her arms reached around you almost completely being the giant that she is. Her legs entertained with yours holding you open all for her.
She thought this was punishment, and you handled it for a while the way she held you still completely overpowering you.
But then you realized how much her cock hurts, staying inside you stretching you with no release. How you knew she was leaving her marks all over your body, but who were you to stop the Queen. The way it was torture the way her fingers slid down your hips the raw calloused tips grazing softly over your skin sending shivers down your spine.
You felt her lip ring through the tender kisses she left on your shoulder blades your legs quivered in-between her toned ones locking your legs open just enough to stay inside if you and keep you from moving.
"C'mon doll you can take it right" her words gentle but stern, you could feel her cocky grin against your neck as she whispered her warm breath leaving goosebumps along your skin.
You could feel the way her muscles flexed against your back, her nipple piercings jabbing into your skin harshly as she held your body still against hers. You sighed your body tense with the weird angle of her inside of you pressing right against your g spot.
You needed friction but she held you in place.
"Dez" you tried whining her name and moving your hips but the 7' queen held you in place.
"Fuck Dez"
"Y'know the rules love" she nibbled at your ear.
"Please Dez"
"Naw doll that ain't good enough"
Her hands squeeze into your hips harder.
"Still ain't gonna give me what I want huh?"
Odessa shoved her cock further into you holding onto your forehead back and leading your head back so you lay on her shoulder keeping her cock still inside you edging you past your limit.
But you're stubborn. You could wait all night, she'll get angry and desperate enough to fuck you like you deserve soon.
Falls on my knees,,, Peach can I please request nsft Junker Queen with a smol fem s/o who comes from a rich family and is kinda sheltered? Like, sneaks out to go see her Junker wife, maybe a bit of a corruption kink if that's okay? Ty ty in advance! And if the request isn't to your liking, that's totally alright too! <3
Now, I don't normally do gendered readers. BUT I couldn't get the idea of Junker Queen calling reader her Lil Princess soooooo I'll make a self indulgent exception this time. Also accidentally got carried away and wrote more than intended lmaooo
Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit like/heart to keep more writers like me alive and to see more content! :D
Ao3 link: Here
Fandom: Overwatch
Relationship: Junker Queen x Reader
Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader explicitly uses she/her pronouns + has a vulva + is called a good girl/princess/wife/etc, I'd say fem reader but as a femme nb Id be okay with those terms sooo, There's a public scene so like- pda but make it horny?, Possessive Junker Queen
Words: 3.2k
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Would it really surprise anyone nowadays?
You always had a luxurious life- yet, very strict. You were raised under the intention of taking over your father's company, being the only child in line for it. You were to be someone else's legacy. Your feelings and opinions never mattered- not even your hobbies.
Your father ran a tight ship, one that limited you greatly even into your adult life. He worked closely with Vishkar, working on a program that would better life for humans and use omnics as either scrap metal or servants.
You never liked it, always having immense empathy for those around you. Omnics or otherwise. It left a poor taste in your mouth at the thought of having to take over such a company.
But. It did mean you had to learn the tricks of the trade. Meaning trading with other people, companies, and sometimes even faux kingdoms.
And that's where you met her.
~Rest under the cut~
Odessa was not a woman of unreasoning, but she definitely wasn't one you bullshitted with either. She could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound; No exception to your father either when he tried to underhand her.
She laughed in his face when he proposed helping with the feral omnics around and using them as scrap metal. Offering to clean out her Wasteland just for parts. But she knew better and had leaned down from her imposing throne, using her axe to tip his chin up as she crooned; "And what's in it for me, old man?"
Whilst looking directly at you.
He tried offering money for the scraps, but in the end they had reached an agreement of some kind. You would come to her faux kingdom and help her with financials and factions that she couldn't seem to get right. And of course, he'd still pay handsomely for the scrap he took. But, if he overstepped his bounds or went against his word, he could kiss his scraps goodbye.
And judging by how she had looked at your during this dealing, you expected you'd be scooped up as well as 'aid for the salt in her wounds'.
It's how you two get close. Odessa- or Dez, as you find she liked to be called instead- keeps to her word and uses your knowledge for her own gain. And in turn, you get to see parts of the world you know you'd never be allowed to.
She takes to calling you Princess, and at first you scoff at it. But soon it turned into a fond pet name, something that made you feel pretty and cherished.
Your interests start to show again, an old love of engineering and tinkering coming into play on one of the weeks she has you. She finds you late at night in her very own workshop, using pieces of scrap found around to make a makeshift sculpture of her Champion. A little ball that when a button was pressed, popping open into the sculpture to form the little hamster inside.
After that, she'd come and watch you instead.
Her keen eyes on you as she straddled a chair backwards, resting her chin over the top of it as her honey eyes burned holes into you.
Then more watching as you got to stay for longer periods of time. Dez was interested in your routines, how you lotioned your skin, patting lipgloss on your lips and doing your hair. Softer things she was unfamiliar with, just like the rougher things you too didn't understand.
Tension built between the two of you. You couldn't look her in the eye without feeling flustered. And it seemed like she caught on quickly, trying to do everything to impress you.
She was like a puppy some days.
Some times you caught her making a struggle sound when lifting something heavy, only to act like it was no big deal when you walked in the room. Or how some days she'd try to cook something more elaborate with spices like you did, but it would be too much and inedible.
It's the thought that counted.
It wasn't until she shows up in your room in her wing with flowers does it occur to you this silly queen had been trying to court you.
From there, you…try not to go home too often.
Your father doesn't like that you're enjoying time away. It all becomes too much one day when he tries to tell her he's breaking off the arrangement to the Queen. To which Dez laughs in his face and reminds him that she's not against taking his only child.
Not that you would be against it either.
When your relationship starts, she's all chivalry. She's loud, huge, and isn't scared to get into fights with people who even look at you sideways.
She holds your hand in public, grabs your ass, presses a hand on your lower back- you name it. She says it's to 'Give that lot something to really look at' and 'Let em know what's the Queen's property'.
It makes you feel…wanted.
But Dez also grabs your hand to guide you gently down the steps, or helps you tie your dresses up in the back. She'll sit with you while you take a bath, watching you with all your fancy bubbles and soft lotions with curiosity.
And then hunger when you offer for her to join you.
In turn, you learn to get a little dirty. The basics of self defense and standing up for yourself. Learning how to say No with certainty and getting into hobbies you'd long since forgotten.
It's one day after one of your baths does she make her move. She's upset about something, frustrated, looking to blow off steam. She tells you you smell so good, that you're so soft.
That she wants to tear you apart.
You go that night sore and bruised with bite marks lining every inch of you. With a snoring girlfriend lain across you and holding you like a stuffie.
Princess becomes more than a pet name after that.
One final night, you have a fight with your father and sneak out that night. Your private dropship already knows where to take you, the built in AI taking you there.
It's dark out, but Dez is already waiting for you. As if she got wind of it before you even showed up. You don't question it or try to make sense of it, just taking her hand silently as she escorts you off your ship.
"Rough night?" Are her first words that break the silence as she leads you inside her bedroom. You laugh dryly, wiping at the mascara trails under your eyes silently as she hands you a tissue.
"S'alright, love. You can stay here as long as ya need, yeah? Been in my fair share of spats with my old man too back in the day." Dez comforts you, opening her large arms as you come towards her to rest your head on her.
Your head reaches below her chest. Her hands are warm and rough as they rub across your back, focusing on the exposed part of your upper back where your dress dips down. Her short nails soothingly rub across your skin as you breathe in her scent slowly.
"Got any positions available in your kingdom, Your Highness?" You murmur as a jab to be humorous, but it comes out quietly.
In turn, Dez spares you a little chuckle. She pulls away briefly, grabbing your chin to tip it up to her with a cocksure smirk playing on her lips. "Could use someone to help me keep documentation on things." Her thumb then rubs across your bottom lip, watching as you close your eyes and peck a kiss to it. "Could also use a lil' wife to keep me in line too."
"Wife, huh?" You tease back at her, reaching up to grab her hand and press a kiss to her palm. But when she doesn't laugh at first, you glance back up to her face to see she's looking at you expectantly.
It clicks.
"Dez you're not seriously proposing like that, are you?" Your tone is full of mirth, flattered even. Your smile breaks her as she starts to smile in turn, leaning down to kiss your forehead and then your nose.
"Nah, nah. Just a thought, Princess. Would wanna find ya a big ole ring. Somethin' that screams 'Queen', ya know? Maybe we'll even getcha a lil tiara, aye?" All the while she speaks, gesturing to your head and forming a circle with her fingers like she's measuring you.
"Are you going to bring fireworks for the occasion?"
"Of course, doll! Would do it in public too. Maybe after pulverizing some bloke in the Reckoning." Dez hums thoughtfully, cupping her cheek and letting her eyes flick over your now smiling face. "Though, worry it'll make 'em think you're part of that prize. The title and the bride up for grabs."
"I'd poison them in their sleep and get you your title back."
A grin splits across her face, her big, booming laugh echoing in the room as she scoops you up into her arms to squeeze you tightly. "Now THAT'S my girl!"
--
You stay there afterwards. Carefully bundled in her bed with her night after night. Most nights she's not there, busy with handling things. And in turn, you learn to stay up late with her. You write down all her words, keeping documentation on factions and any upsets that went around town.
It feels like a domestic lifestyle. She's even started teasingly calling you her bride and wife, much to your embarrassment.
Dez treats you gently, the utmost gentleman that she is- per her own words.
But one time, when you go to the bar with her, someone gets a bit too bold with you. Knocking shoulders with you, poking at you. You can see her from across the table slowly looking murderous. But the cherry on top is when the person beside you implies they could treat you better.
You're surprised they don't end up a bloody pulp. But you quickly learn why when Dez croons at them, "Oh, ya do, aye? And would you happen to know what little spots make her tick, hm?" In this venomous tone as she stalks around the table to come toward you.
You squeak as you're lifted off the chair by her, your body turned towards that person as her hands slide down your shoulders. Down to your waist where she grabs you tight and makes you gasp, a heavy flush covering your face.
You try to turn your head, but she grabs your chin, turning your head towards the person to make sure they're looking just as you are.
"See how her legs shake?" Dez continues, her free hand trailing up to your chest and making you tremble. "See how she melts at my touch?" Her hand on your chin slides down, and you automatically move to make room for it to wrap loosely around your throat.
Your lashes begin to flutter, your breath shaking.
"You wanna know what sounds she makes for me in the night? Screaming my name? Ya think you could do that? Mate, I can make her scream for me without ever bein' inside her." Her words are harsh and heavy, but you're so distracted by her hand trailing down to the bottom of your dress. Her hand slides underneath, over your thigh, bending you over with her height only.
"Doll," She directs to you, her tone so sweet and kind. You hardly have time to breathe. "Remind this poor, blubbering fool who you belong to?"
"M-my Queen."
"And who only gets the utmost pleasure in having you?"
"You, my Queen."
"Now. Be a good girl and tell this bloke to fuck off." Her tone is sweet to you, so kind. You're shaking at the feeling of her body heat behind you as she stands to allow you to stand.
Her hand catches your chin again, directing you to open your eyes and look at the poor son of a bitch avoiding eye contact with you as the whole bar stares.
"Fuck off."
You don't get to finish your time at the bar. From there, Dez tells everyone to get back to what they were doing and have a good night. Said with a big slap on the back to the person who had been flirting with you.
You barely make it to the bedroom before Dez is snarling and slamming you into the nearest surface- but of course with a hand behind your head to avoid impact.
You whimper as she captures your lips in hers, bending down to do so. Her hand grabs your hair, her other one quickly shuffling up your skirts to fit her large thigh between yours to cause a moan to gasp from you.
"My pretty girl," She snarls against your lips, kissing down your neck as she pulls your hair. Forcing you to expose your neck as you gasp out. Her thigh presses up harder into you, feeling how wet you are already and making her breathlessly chuckle. "Oh? My sweet Princess liked that, hm?"
You try to nod, but can't move a muscle when she sucks a bruise into your neck with a cry from your own lips. "D-Dez-"
"Yeah, keep sayin' my name, angel. Gonna make you scream it real soon." She promises, her voice sounding like a growl as she scoops you up to deposit you on the bed.
You hardly get one bounce in before she's grabbing your hips and tugging you to the end of the bed where she gets down on her knees in front of you. Your dress is shuffled up where you quickly hold the skirts in place to watch her helplessly.
She moans at the sight of you, her finger trailing over the wet spot on your panties and pressing with just enough pressure over your clit to make you squirm. "My poor baby. A queen should never let her bride be wanting, hm? How selfish of me."
Your panties are ripped off, tucked into her back pocket before Dez is quickly yanking you close to bury her face into you. Her tongue knows exactly what you like best, licking flat over your whole cunt before her lips seal over your clit.
You scream out, your hands finding her braids and grabbing onto them for support. Your legs quake as she presses forward, forcing your feet to press to her shoulders and effectively pressing you into a better, open position.
It works to her favor, as she quickly introduces a thick finger pressing inside of you just like you like.
You cry out when her tongue flicks across your clit, back and forth nice and slow before taking you back between her lips again to suckle. She presses in a second finger, curling them upwards just as she moans helplessly into you when you pull her hair.
You cum quickly like that, with her fingers pumping into you shallowly and her tongue flicking across your clit nice and slow as if savoring you.
"Dez- D-Dez, fuck, baby, please, f-fuck-" Your cries are all her name like a prayer, fucking your hips into her face as she growls into you again.
It's only then does she pull from you, not giving you anytime to think as she forces you onto all fours.
Two fingers slide into you again, her other hand coming below you to sandwich your clit between two fingers to massage it in time with her fingers fucking you.
You scream her name into the mattress as your fingers claw for support in the sheets. Your face buries into them, desperate to muffle your pathetic whines as your eyes roll back into your head.
You're over sensitive, but you can still make out her words behind you. Each one more claiming than the next.
"No one else gets to see you like this."
"What a pretty Princess for her Queen, hm? Not such a good little girl now, are you? Just look at how well you take me now."
Then finally, her hand leaves your clit, giving her enough space to lean over you as her fingers fuck into you still. Spoken as she nips your shoulder and murmurs behind your ear, "Beg. Beg to cum around my fingers, pretty girl. Let 'em hear ya all over the wasteland, yeah?"
Then Dez moves. Moving to lay on her back under you, keeping her fingers sunk into you and using her free hand to grab one of your hips bruisingly.
She yanks you down to her awaiting mouth, moaning into you just as you sob out and start to hump into her face and back into her fingers.
You know Dez doesn't need to wait for you to beg, pleas already slipping from your lips in a higher pitch with each swipe of her tongue. Each curl of her lips sloppily kissing over your clit in open mouthed, messy kisses with a brush of her tongue on each kiss.
You scream for her. Screaming her name loud enough to be heard outside the open window for sure as you cum on her tongue and fingers.
Your back arches, twisting your fingers in the sheet as your eyes roll back into your head. You don't even realize you're kicking your legs and squirming too much until both her hands take a hold of your hips.
Dez's strength in her very fingertips makes you shiver, sobs racking your frame as overstimulation winds into your bones. Tears bubble in your eyes, your body shaking as you whine her name quietly.
It's then that she slides out from under you, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand before readjusting you.
She pulls your trembling form into her arms, cradling you bridal style and fixing your dress into place. You cling to her tightly, burying your face into her neck as she rubs over your back crooning to you gently.
"You did a good job, love. Not hurt, are ya?" Her voice is gentle, using her cheek to nuzzle at the top of your head. You shake your head quietly, humming to let her know that your reply is no.
"Good. Cause I ain't done with ya yet." Dez chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head with a turn of her head. Your reply is a soft whine, feeling how one of her hands cheekily slides under your dress to squeeze at your thigh.
"What? Haven't even properly bruised ya up yet. After a slight like that, I'm itchin' to tear you apart." Her words are a promise, despite her soft tone. "'Sides, we know you can take more than just that."
"You're going to kill me." You groan back to her, lifting your head finally just in time to catch her gaze. Your cheeks flush at how dark her eyes are.
How hungrily she looks at you.
"Not gonna kill ya," She promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead tenderly. "Just gonna make sure ya can't walk tomorrow."
And you know Dez. Her promises?
They're not ever broken.
---
Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit like/heart to keep more writers like me alive and to see more content! :D
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