REQUESTS CLOSED [Patreon][Masterlist][WordPress][Twitter]Name's Amara. I write FEMDOM-CENTRIC DOM!READER ONLY fanfiction of DMC5, Overwatch, Apex Legends, R6S, and more. Also a Dominant in my free time. [Ko-Fi] INBOX: Open COMMISSIONS: 0 slots available [REQUESTS/HEADCANONS]: CLOSED
What do you think about the new R6S event movie? They have sledge face reveal
Yeah I saw it! Oh man all the bois and girls look so good 😋 And yes Sledge’s face and a whole bunch of others! Sledge does look like a behemoth, especially when he was slamming his hammer on the tyre oh yeahhhhhJust an update I’m working on a Thermite commission at the moment along with one other Overwatch piece and a Patreon exclusive, hence why I haven’t been on tumblr. I’ll post a few cute little drabbles tonight to celebrate Chinese New Year though :D
Yep still do some. I realise this reply has come reeeaaaally late but yes, still doing requests and headcanons. I’ll get to them and open the inbox again after I finish this one last patreon request.
It’s been close to a year since the demonic invasion of Red Grave and the city is slowly beginning to fill up with residents again. For what you have planned, you’re ever so glad that the streets are still empty, still quiet but for the buzz of neon lights and the murmur of voices from a few nearby takeaway places.
Vergil prowls along next to you, his brow furrowed and his lips in a straight line. Not quite that uncharacteristic, although the only thing unusual is that he never makes that face around you. Well, except when you’ve been teasing him for days on end and the only time he can do anything about it, you’re out in public.
“You’re revelling in my suffering, aren’t you.” It’s less a question and more a statement, one gritted out through clenched teeth as your hand moves within your pocket.
A sly little look out of the corner of your eye reveals how smug you are. “Of course, Vergil, but you should’ve known that a long time ago.” Certainly, you always enjoy flustering the normally unflappable half-demon warrior, particularly since he always looks so stern and stoic. The little flush on his cheeks and the tremble of his sword hand betray his arousal, little things that would mean nothing on another person are huge tells for Vergil.
He hisses at you and quickens his pace, snarling that he’s sick of waiting and you had better hurry home before he throws you over his shoulder.
The threat makes you laugh, knowing that it’s all hot air. As though he would dare to do that. “Slow down, Vergil, Nero said he wanted some alone time in the office.”
Gritting his teeth, which now that you notice are starting to look more like fangs, Vergil growls at you, “Forget Nero. I want some alone time in the office.”
“Oh, honey, the office? Really?” You simper at him, your hand landing on his chest to stop him. “I’ve got a better idea than the office.” Then you give him a great big shove backwards into the dark alleyway behind him.
“Oh, madame, an alley? How classy,” he sneers back, mocking your words with a tilt of his head.
Ah, you really missed that snark of his. “Classy enough for you, slave.”
Vergil hisses, about to argue back when your hand twitches and his words die in his throat. The vibrating plug is lodged right up against his P-spot, shifting this way and that as he walked but now it’s bang on the most sensitive spot in his whole body. His hand wraps around your wrist gently, his grip tightening as he begins to shake. “Don’t-”
“Don’t what, Vergil?” You whisper and back him up against a relatively clean wall. “Don’t make you hard?” Your hand drops the controller in your pocket and slips down to his belt instead. “Don’t make you hot and horny?” The clinking of his belt is loud in your ears, followed by the zip slowly being undone. “Don’t what, Vergil?”
“Don’t take it out,” he whispers hoarsely, his other hand clamping down on your hip as he appears to melt against the wall. “Not in public. I’ll-” Gut you? Run away? Beg you to keep going until he cums?
“You’ll what, Vergil,” you purr, leaning in close enough to smell the aftershave on his jaw. Close enough that his cock, still trapped in his pants, presses hard against your belly. “Cum in my hands?” You press a kiss against his twitching cheek. “Hm?”
Vergil gulps, turning instinctively to into your kiss. “N-no.” He gasps into your lips as you slip your hand into his boxers, his cock already bouncing and twitching uncontrollably to the time of the vibrations in his ass. “No.” His voice becomes firmer as he fights through a thick haze of lust to growl at you. “No, I’ll drag you back home and fuck you senseless if you don’t-!”
You cut him off by nipping him sharply on the neck and groping hard at his cock at the same time. Vergil shivers and moans tremulously, arching into your touch and purring deep in his chest like a cat. The plug in his ass urges him to move his hips, to hump into your expert hand as it coaxes drop after drop of precum out of his desperate cock.
“Mmm, what a threat, Vergil. What a threat,” you purr into his marked neck, finding a patch of flawless, pale skin to mar with your teeth. “Drag me home and fuck me senseless, huh?” Your hand on his cock still works at his thickness but now at a maddeningly slow pace, now going even slower than the vibrations driving him crazy. “How are you going to do that when you’re like this?”
His handsome features contorts into a pained grimace as he bucks into your hand. “Don’t-agh! Don’t test me.”
You laugh into his neck and pull away, much to his consternation. “I think I already am, honey. You’re pretty close, aren’t you?”
Vergil tries to deny it, tries to deny the tightness of his balls, the constant leaking of his cock, the deep flush on his normally ivory skin. But you know him too well, know him enough to tell that he’s been teetering on the edge even without your, ahem, assistance. “No.”
“Liar,” you whisper, crouching down sinuously. With a quick yank, his trousers and boxers are around his thighs and you’re suckling decadently on his delicious cock. The taste of his cum is thin, musky, and yet heavy on your tongue as you bob your head up and down his thick length.
Vergil is gasping for breath, his hands locked around your wrists to anchor himself. His legs spread wide open, or as much as his trousers can allow, in an attempt to lower himself so that you don’t have to strain to reach him. As a reward for such consideration, you up the vibrations on the plug, enough that Vergil’s thighs begin to clench up, his shoulders to round down, and his eyes to go cloudy and unseeing with intense lust and pleasure.
“Enough. Enough-I’m going to-!”
You let go with a pop. “Not yet.”
“Fuck!” He snarls, hands letting go of your wrists to slam into the wall behind him. The cracks that form go unnoticed, though they only widen when he slams his fist another time to stop himself from cumming. “Fuck.”
“Mmm, there you go, honey,” you purr as you lick up his twitching, throbbing cock. “Not until I say so.”
“If it were only so easy,” Vergil mutters to himself, though he has to save his breath for his next round of edging. Over and over and over you deny him, bringing him to the very edge and then tell him he’s not allowed to cum yet.
If the streets were any more populated, he knows you wouldn’t dare to do such a thing. But since the only thing he can hear is a cat yowling in the distance and nothing else, he happily lets you edge him for the last time. Or was it frustratedly? He can’t really tell at this point, all he knows is that he’s going to cum again and if you tell him he can’t, he’s going to bring the building down around you.
“Mmm, what a good boy, Vergil,” you coo up at him, suckling on his weeping tip. “What a good boy. Do you want a reward, Vergil?”
Cracking a pale eye open, he takes a deep gulp and nods. He doesn’t trust himself not to whine like a bitch at this point.
“Heh, alright then. Cum for me, my warrior. Cum.”
With permission given, you slip your hand between his thighs to thrust the plug in and out of him in tandem with your mouth. Licking, sucking, fucking, cranking his pleasure all the way up to eleven and beyond. The slick sounds of your saliva and the plug moving in and out, the feel of your tongue and lips working his cock, and the bliss of the vibrating plug fucking his ass all prove to be his undoing, making him cum a mere half a minute after you give him permission.
“I’m cumming!” Vergil gasps and hunches over, hands landing on your shoulder and your forearm, cum splattering into your mouth in thick, healthy spurts. “Ah, gods.”
When the last spurt is a pathetic little dribble, you stand up and give Vergil a harsh, cum filled kiss. Snowballing the cum within your mouths until you push it all towards him with a whispered command to swallow it all. Still dazed from his orgasm, he obeys, swallowing it without a peep and showing his tongue to you upon request.
“What a good boy, Vergil,” you coo up at him, kissing him over and over and over until he begins to react and kiss you back just as fiercely, the taste of cum still on his tongue and yours. “Mmm wasn’t that quite fun?”
He huffs, but doesn’t disagree. “Fun is a word.” But he doesn’t deny that he was crazy turned on. Well, still turned on, since the plug in his ass is still going strong and you’re holding his sodden cock in one hand. “Now can you put my cock back in my pants so we can go home?”
“Awww, so eager to cut our romp through the city short?”
“No, but I do want to fuck you senseless.”
You didn’t even need to think for more than a second. “You’ve got the better idea.”
“Today’s show day, pets,” you call out with a smile and a clang of keys. With a short rifling through your clipboard, you call out the names of the lucky slaves who will be let out and displayed during this little party you’re throwing. Well, when you say party, it’s really an auction with a bit of fun before and after it.
Several men and women, all naked but for little ornamentations on their nipples and clits/penises, crawl towards you with their collars jingling and jangling around their necks. One in particular comes up to you and rubs his head against your thigh, his body almost guarding you from the rest in the way he’s angled his body. The gag in his mouth prevents him from greeting you or from snapping at the other slaves from getting too close to you, but the coiled muscles of his back says everything his mouth can’t.
“Behave, Ozy.” You pat his soft raven hair and attach his leash to his opulent collar. “I need the rest of them in perfect condition.” Although to be fair, his possessiveness often makes the other slaves even more gregarious, even more desperate to show how desirable they are and how obedient they can be. How they, too, can earn your favour and your bed like the Sun King.
The dusky skinned Pharoah simply rumbles deep in his throat with a smug smile, his knowing eyes already aware of what he’s doing. He sits on his heels, hands on his thighs as he watches you go around clipping leashes to collars, guiding and coaxing all ten of them to get into your dressing room. As the God-King, Ozymandias has the pleasure of being groomed by the Master while the rest of them got prettied up by your many, many servants.
He preens as he’s led to his station, kneeling before you and taking your clipboard from your hands. “Who shall be your prized slave tonight, Master?” He flexes and flicks his hair to the side, beaming right at you with all the force in his chiselled body. Clearly he’s trying to nominate himself.
A prized slave is the main event of your little party. The centre of attention, the highest valued man or woman on display, and the one who will show the rest of your guests exactly how well trained your slaves are.
You hum and lean against the table, picking up a makeup palette and a little brush. “My prize tonight? Mmm I was thinking maybe Drake. My guests do enjoy a busty woman being tortured and pleasured in equal measure. Particularly since she’s so...vocal.” By vocal, you really mean moans, whimpers, cries, screams, the whole lot. Even cursing and swearing when it gets too much. Oh, and not to forget the tears in her wide eyes and the perfect ahegao orgasm face. You’re not entirely sure if that’s just how her face looks during orgasm or if she does it for the visuals.
Ozymandias’ face screws up at the mention of the abrasive yet charming captain. “The pirate, Master? Surely your guests would prefer a more...sophisticated slave. One who shows your prime stock, who radiates power and submission and obedience!” His voice grows louder from his forced ‘indoor voice’, passion firing up his tone until he truly sounds like the king that he is. He opens his mouth to continue, only to have your underwear stuffed in it to stop him from going on and on and on.
You have half a mind to tease him a little bit more, but you’re short on time and patience for his theatrics. “Enough, Ozy. You’re my Prize for tonight, but you won’t be if you keep this up.”
Instantly, he quietens, looking for all the world like the cat that ate the canary under his Master’s nose. Ozy looks to start purring with pleasure, his shoulders pulling back and his perfect posture perking up as he presents his face.
The panties in his mouth keeps him quiet as you work to pretty him up even more, keeping him sedate and just a little bit horny if his perked up cock is any indication. But you’re not fussed, anything that keeps him quiet and still is something you don’t take for granted. Taking the chance for what it is, you give him some gold and blue eyeshadow, dusting glitter and shimmer over his lids, his cheeks, and those perfect cheekbones. Line his eyes in sharp, thick black strokes, bringing out those molten gold irises that seem to gleam in the light. More glitter gets tossed at his body, the shiny bits sticking to his dusky skin easily. With his silver ornaments now exchanged for gold ones, Ozymandias looks like an offering to the gods. Or perhaps a godly offering to the Queen of gods.
“Perfect,” you purr, stepping back and allowing him to stand to admire your handiwork. Even with the lacy panties in his mouth, Ozy looks smug. When they’re removed with a gentle hand, his smirk is so wide it almost looks like one of Gilgamesh’s.
“Am I to your satisfaction, Master?”
Clipping a gold leash to his collar, you give him the side eye and laugh. “Of course you are, slave. Now come along, it’s time.”
Each servant, wearing little more than the slaves, follow behind you in pairs, leading along your slaves like a procession. Your guests, seated on the many couches, chairs, and chaise lounges around your dungeon perk up as your entrance is announced. They clap, cheer, and throw wolf whistles at your many servants and slaves, quieting down when you take your place before your throne and raise a hand for silence.
“Friends, guests,” you begin, “welcome to my Paradise.” Fielding the cheers and applause, you smile and nod. “Thank you. Now, as much as I like hearing the sound of my own voice, I believe everyone’s keen to get their kink on!” A roar from your many guests makes you grin. “Yes, my friends, yes! Then let us begin with my favourite part, the Auction. Today, all proceeds will go to a local charity of the winning bidder’s choice.”
With a flourish of your hand, your servants bring each slave forward, displaying them in a multitude of positions while you describe that slave’s many qualities. Once you’re done, you accept a crop from a reverent servant, using it as a pointer to accept the many bids for each individual slave. Emiya is a crowd favourite, as always, earning you the most out of the whole lineup by far. The lucky leather clad Mistress sashays her way to him and claims his lead from the servant, happily trotting back to her seat with the dusky skinned Archer crawling beside her.
And then finally, it’s Ozy’s turn. No one has forgotten the beautiful slave kneeling by your side, least of all you. “At last, we come to my Prized Slave.” Tugging Ozy to centre stage, you stand him upright. “Ozymandias, the Sun King, and also the father of many, many, many children.” At his preening, you caress his face and grin to your audience, noticing his cock perking up quickly. “Hands behind your back, slave, I want to touch your cock.”
“Yes, Master,” he purrs, standing up straight and wrapping his large hands around his wrists behind his back. Unable to shield himself from view now, not that he ever wanted to, he can only stand and let his lashes flutter as you close your hand around his turgid cock. Light little moans start to slip through his slightly parted lips, his broad chest starting to heave as you stimulate him more.
You work his cock for a little while more, making sure it hardens to full mast and even gets a little bead of precum on its tip. “There we go,” you declare to your audience and straighten up, letting your servants put Ozy in milking stocks. “Ozy is a phenomenal breeder. Perfect cock, heavy balls, excellent stamina.” A female servant, now bare to her skin but devoid of ornaments and jewelry, kneels before starting to suck and lick the Pharoah’s cock. He starts panting and moaning, his brilliant gold eyes clouding over with pleasure as the servant works his cock.
“He’s delightfully sensitive, as you can see, and eager for the touch of your hand or your tongue.” The servant demonstrates this by dragging her tongue up from the base of his cock up to his tip, drawing out a dribble of pale precum. “And his cum, oh his cum. Thick, musky, and ever so potent. Want your bitch or cow bred? Ozy will be the stud to make that bitch yowl in pleasure and sob in overstimulation. He won’t stop until you pull him off, the only thing running through his head being that he must fuck, he must breed.” You circle around the slave, the spotlight following you focusing on him when you give the signal.
That same signal pulls the female servant away from your stud and a blindfolded, female slave is introduced instead. She is locked in a breeding frame, legs wide, arms locked into place by her head, and a ring gag holding her mouth open. Shaking and whimpering in arousal, she shakes in place. In anticipation, in fear, you’re not quite sure. But one thing you know? She’s going to love what happens next.
“And now, a demonstration of his talents.”
You take the reins this time, releasing Ozy from the stocks to lead him over to his offering. The Pharoah seems absolutely starving for pussy, his eyes almost crossing when his cock is carefully guided into the slave’s sopping wet entrance. Instantly he begins to fuck her hard and fast, powerful hips slamming into her for what feels like an age.
Every eye is locked onto his form, entranced by the primal performance before them. They watch as the female slave starts moaning and drooling like a brainless, lust-filled slut, her hips fighting against her bonds to return the thrusts that threaten to overwhelm her senses. They watch her pussy juice leak down onto the floor under her, pooling to join the puddles of drool that have already formed. And all the while you’re encouraging Ozy with crop and whip alike, leaving light marks upon his sweaty back to make him thrust harder. Faster.
“Pain encourages him as much as pleasure,” you say as you come behind him and scratch your nails up his perky ass. “And playing with his asshole, in particular, riles him up like no other.” Raising a hand, you show the hefty remote you hold. “Prior to this party, I put a little e-stim butt plug in this slave arse.” Slapping Ozy’s ass, you tell everyone to take note of how he is now, as opposed to how he is after you’ve pressed a single button.
“Agh!” He snarls, hips jumping but moving harder. More presses of the button causes him to shake harder, his eyes going wide and his hips thrusting faster and faster until he hisses that he’s going to cum. He’s going to cum, does he have permission.
“Ohhh, I don’t know, Ozy. Do you deserve it? Do you deserve to seed her? What do you think, my friends?” You look to the audience for their opinion, and a resounding yes is the answer. “Well, the jury has spoken. Cum for me, Sun King. Flood her with your seed.”
Ozy gasps and curls over the drooling, mindless slave, cumming inside her for what seems like forever. When he is finally pulled off her by three muscular servants, his cum dripping in thick strings from her used, puffy pussy. The exhausted female slave is rolled away quietly as you show off Ozy and his cock, still ready and raring to go.
This time a clear cock milker is rolled in and Ozy locked back into his milking stocks, secured tightly so his powerful struggles won’t result in his escape. The milker picks up where he left off, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of him, and yet Ozymandias doesn’t flag, doesn’t let his trembling knees buckle even when you proudly show off the respectable bottle of cum to the crowd.
“How good is that, my friends?” You hand the bottle over to a servant and approach the panting, sweaty, yet still randy Ozy. His cock bobs as you take off the milker, a thin string of pearly cum stretching out as you put the milker off to the side. “So much cum, so much power, and so much stamina. He can fuck from dusk to dawn, this one, and still be ready to fuck again when you’ve presented a pussy, or an ass, to him. And if you want him to be extra primal, extra horny, denying him for days on end will make him absolutely crazy for you.”
Patting Ozy’s dripping shoulder, you point the crop out at your audience. “Now who wants him for the night?”
Every single guest raises their paddle, all buzzing with barely suppressed energy. You grin and point to the first bidder. At this rate you’re going to have to auction him out for the next couple of days. But he’ll love it, even if he looks like he’s going to kill you right now.
Looking down at him with an amused grin, you reach your foot out and stroke his exposed thigh. “Mmm, trying to sweet talk me, baby?”
Nero gulps, his bright eyes fixated on your painted toes. Toes that are now playing with the thick, heavy cock bobbing and leaking clear precum. “Mmhm,” he grunts, his breathing growing heavier and quicker as he follows the darkly painted toes that creep from his cock to his thigh, to his clenching balls, and back all over again.
“Hey,” you giggle, slapping at his bicep with your handy dandy crop. “Don’t forget what you’re here for, slave.”
“Huh?” He looks so dazed that you can’t help but cackle a little. All simply because you’re playing with his cock using your feet. The feet that are still slightly slippery from the peppermint lotion he’s been using to massage you with.
“My foot massage? You were in the middle of getting that knot out of the ball of my foot.”
Nero blinks and blushes, clearing his throat sheepishly before he puts his large, warm hands on your foot again. “I can’t concentrate with your foot on my dick,” he mumbles under his breath, trying his hardest to ignore your other foot that decided to rest just under his balls. “And there you go again.”
Laughing from behind your hand, you pat his head like you would a puppy. “I love how you get so flustered just from my feet, my pretty slave. And I’m not even trying to turn you on!”
Nero sputters and blushes so hard that his face almost matches the deep red coloration of his teased cock. “What-not even trying-you’re shitting me.”
“Nope.” You shake your head, a smirk playing at your painted lips. “That certainly wasn’t teasing. *This* is teasing.”
And by ‘this’, you mean how you start moaning when he starts massaging your feet on autopilot. Arching your back, sighing, purring, and stretching your free leg to emphasise the graceful lines he loves so much. Brushing your toes against his raging hard on as you spread your thighs wide to reveal your lacy, crotchless undies. With your body, your voice, and your power, you tease him into a panting, blushing, aroused mess.
“Fuck,” he whimpers, his hands stilling on your foot entirely as his teeth clamp down on his plush lower lip. Now his eyes are locked on your pussy lips, your glistening, soaked pussy lips. “*Fuck*.”
An evil grin replaces your seductive smirk. “That’s the idea, baby. Want a taste?”
“Fuck yeah,” he moans, lunging forward to bury his head in your wet warmth. Or, at least, he tries.
With one foot on his face, you stop him in his tracks. “Ah ah,” you tut at him, amused at how his attention shifts to your foot once more instead of your pussy. “Not so fast.”
His eye twitches, as does his cock. He knows exactly what he has to do to earn his treat. Without prompting, he licks his lips and your foot, clearing his throat so he can beg like the desperate whore he is. “Please, mistress?”
“You can do better than that.”
Nero whimpers hotly. “Please, mistress, may I have a taste of your pussy?”
“Hmm.”
His blush is spreading down his built chest and wide shoulders now. “Oh come on, please? Crush my head with your thighs, suffocate me with your pussy, I really fucking want to taste you, fucking please, mistress!” He’s starting to ramble a little bit now, his tongue loosening as you play with his still hard cock. As you nudge him on into a mindless rant on how he really, really wants your pussy and god-fucking-damnit you’re such a cruel mistress who loves to see him suffer.
And you do. Love to see him suffer. But more than that, you love seeing him give into his base urges at your goading, his wild, aroused eyes just barely leashed by your lack of permission.
“Mmm,” you hum, tapping your lip and kneading at his face with your feet. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.”
“Hell yeah.” His cheer is muffled by your soaked folds as he literally smashes his face into the crux of your thighs. Your thighs are thrown over his wide shoulders unceremoniously as he wraps his lips around your clit and suckles at it like he would your nipple. His licks and suckles sync with your now thundering heartbeat, quickening when you latch onto his silver hair and yank him close.
He moans the rougher you treat his hair, whimpers breathlessly as you clamp your thighs around his ears. This is all getting too much. “Can I touch myself, mistress?”
“Fuck yeah,” you grunt breathily. “Touch yourself, slut.”
A shudder. “Yes, mistress,” he moans, one hand disappearing from your thigh to sneak into his lap. “Thank you, mistress.”
Mmm, such a polite boy. One reason why you don’t mind him touching himself rather than devoting all his attention to you is that he just gets so much more enthusiastic when he does. He’s ravenous now, hefting you closer to him and absolutely devouring you with his lips and his tongue. He sticks his tongue as far into you as he can manage, slurping up your honeyed nectar and moaning deep in his throat as he does. Like he can’t ever get enough of you.
His pace on his cock picks up as does his lips, his fervour bringing you over the edge with the gentlest orgasm. You arch your back and moan, dropping your crop to fist both hands in his silky silver hair, crying his name to the ceiling and declaring throatily that you’re cumming. Nero moans and picks up his pace, doing his part to carry you through the euphoria that is your orgasm. Prolonging your pleasure and taking it with him as he pants into your pussy, begging breathlessly for permission to cum.
“Can I cum, please, mistress?” His voice is rough, his nose and chin soaked through with pussy juice. “Please?”
Purring now and basking in the afterglow, you nod and let your knees fall open to watch him jerk himself to orgasm. “Mmm, yess, cum for me.”
Nero’s panting loudly now, his eyes clouded and dazed and half hooded. “Oh fuck, oh fuck thank you, mistress!” It becomes a hushed mantra under his breath as his hips dance and twitch, his hand a blur on his cock as he brings himself to orgasm quickly. As he cums, he gasps your title and hunches forward, his forehead landing on your lightly damp thigh as pearlescent cum shoots out to land on the hardwood floor.
For someone who came the night before, Nero has a respectable amount of cum puddling on the floor. Could be that half-demon vitality and virility that Dante keeps bragging to his bed partners.
“Mm, such a good boy, Nero.” You praise him and punctuate his name with a kiss on his brow and then on his lips. Coaxing him into returning it with tired lips.
“Thank you, mistress,” he murmurs, kissing you back softly.
“Now, lick up your mess.”
Suddenly that tiredness disappears. “Yes, mistress.”
If you’re reading this, thank you so much for sticking around! I know it’s been a very long time. A combination of life, relationships, school, and BDSM has kept me very busy and taken a lot of energy that would have otherwise been channelled into writing. With my degree finally done, I have some time to finish up my remaining patreon obligations and try to return to tumblr.
Since I’ll be starting legal prac in early 2020, this is how I’m planning to split my time and what will be coming in the next couple of weeks.
I’ll be on tumblr two days a week writing short little fics, none longer than 1000 words. Overwatch Brothel will return, as will little blurbs from requests. Fandoms I will take requests from will include Overwatch, Apex Legends, Devil May Cry, Rainbow Six Siege, and select anime (Bleach/Naruto/Fate series. If you’re curious if I’ve watched it, just ask).
As for my patreon, if you’re a patron you’ll have noticed that I’ve suspended payments in order to catch up on work. If you’ve decided to delete your pledge, I completely understand why and I will make your works publicly available so you don’t need to pledge again in order to read it. Thank you so much for your support and I hope you continue to enjoy my work, free or paid. There will be some overhauls on my patreon come February 2020, mostly taking away the higher tiers so I can concentrate on delivering monthly works. That means the $1 tier will remain while the others will slowly be phased out. If you’d like custom works, my commission work will return mid 2020, depending on how my workload is.
Once again, thank you for all your support over the years that Shesclawsdeep has been active and inactive. I hope to rekindle my love for writing, step by step, small fic by small fic, and come back to all of you.
Hey, are you the same cyrilodaviing from AO3?? I love your femdom overwatch content! Any plans to post more?
Yep the very same :) CyrilOdahviing is my main but it has my non-femdom fics. My pseud Shesclawsdeep has all my femdom fics. Definitely have plans to post more, I’ll have some patron fics uploaded within the next 2 weeks now that I’ve completed my degree. From February onwards I’ll be online 2 days a week, probably Monday and Friday, in between work commitments and legal prac. It’ll probably be short fics like the Overwatch Brothel and little tidbits. Nothing more than 1000 words because I simply don’t have the time/energy for those anymore. Thanks for asking and thank you for loving my work!
Hi! Not really, but I’m looking to get back to it at least twice a week. I’m currently trying to finish off my patreon obligations before I come back to tumblr to write for free. I really want to come back, for sure, just will take a bit is all. Thanks everyone for being so patient <3
@aurumcelest Sorry for the delay! Please enjoy this wet dream that Lion has about reader :D
I am currently on hiatus due to school. Thank you for your understanding <3
"Olivier."
That voice. It sounds so familiar.
"Baby, wake up."
That soft, lilting voice calls out to him again, swirling in his ears, his head, until his eyes flutter open to reveal his sleep hazed gaze. The sight that greets him makes him rouse to wakefulness.
"You-" Olivier's voice tapers off as you lean over him, your hair falling around his head and creating a cocoon around the two of you. "What..." His hands reach up to touch your face, jerking to a stop barely an inch from where he has them laid, and he looks up at them, confused. Only to find that red rope, the same red rope he has in his secret closet, binds his wrists to his bedposts, keeping them pinned high above his head.
"Can't have you running before I'm done with you, my pet," you purr against his lips, your nails scraping down his bare, furred chest. "But when I'm done with you, you'll barely have the energy to move."
Fuck. Fuck, that sounds so hot. Olivier gulps and nods tremulously, his lips dry and his tongue heavy as he whimpers, "Yes. Yes, please."
A dark chuckle falls from your lips and directly onto his, followed up by a thin trail of saliva as you lick his lips. "Are you horny, pet?"
"Yes."
"Louder."
"Yes! Yes, I'm so horny for you, madame," he moans, bucking his hips and feeling your smaller form bounce atop him. "Please, touch me."
Your delighted smile sends shivers down his spine and heat through his pelvis, hardening his already thickened cock until it presses hard against your inner thigh. He bucks against you, biceps bulging as he fights against the insanely strong rope holding him down.
"Please," he whispers.
"Touch you where?" Your voice takes on a dark, sultry tone. Like a sensual touch that he can hear but can't feel. "Your face?" Silken fingers press against his rough cheek, sliding gently over his jaw, his lips, parting them with barely any effort to slide them inside his welcoming mouth. "Your tongue?" His lips close around your finger, sucking them, trapping them inside his mouth, keeping them there as he worships the digit as he would your pussy.
Alas, you take it away far too soon. "Or perhaps your chest?" Your hands dig into his meaty pecs, raking through the thick curls upon his skin. They massage his flesh mindlessly, squeezing and kneading and plucking at his sensitive nipples until he's heaving for breath.
"Ah, but I know you, Olivier," you murmur into his ear, nipping it sharply to elicit the smallest of gasps from his lips. "I know where you want me."
"Yeah?" His voice is thin, breathy. Like he's struggling to speak through the sensations clouding his mind.
"Yeah." You flick your hair behind you and rear up, sitting flush across his hips like a queen upon her ever willing throne. Your thighs are stretched wide across his hips, your knees just barely pressing against the bed and your pussy, bare, wet, and oh so salivating, is pressing against the shaft of his cock like the biggest tease in the world.
His eyes are glued to that incredible sight. The view of your perfect pussy lips spreading across his thick cock, straining and thick and red in contrast to your skin. He looks massive against your lips, your clit just barely peeking over the flared head of his cock.
You move ever so slightly, shifting your hips forward and sending your slick pussy sliding over him, spreading your pussy juices all over. "Mm, my eyes are up here, pet."
"U-uh." Olivier blushes and tears his eyes away from that drool-inducing sight, though not for long as his gaze flutters between that, your perfect breasts, and those clear eyes that make him want to melt beneath you. "I-"
A little smug laugh escapes you at his stuttering, causing your breasts to bounce and your pussy to shift on his needy cock. "Such a slut. Such a needy, desperate slut." You wrap your hand gently around his neck without putting any pressure and smile. "You want me to move, slut? Want me to grind on your cock until you're begging to be inside me?"
Olivier can't stop the nodding of his head. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes, madame," he whines, arching his back and wriggling his hips. Trying and failing to rut against you with the odd heaviness of his body.
You laugh once more, rocking your hips gently with your hands now planted on his beefy chest instead of his throat. "Oh, I love it when you get desperate, Olivier. I love it when you let that inner slut out just for me." The slick sounds of your pussy grinding on his cock send him wild. The harder you grind on him, the louder he moans. The faster you move, the more he bucks his hips.
In a way, he begs with his body. Begs you to go faster, rougher, harder, to use him as you please even as he finds himself tongue-tied. His cock is drenched now, he can feel it. He can feel your clit rasping over the head of his cock and the way your pussy entrance catches on the head as you slide back down. "Merde!"
"Mmm, did you like that?" You tilt your head with a smile, repeating the action and this time allowing him to press into you ever so slightly. His cockhead is big enough that you're straining to stretch over it, making the press slow, steady, yet your slick makes the slide tolerable. For you, anyway. For Olivier, the slow push is as torturous as anything he's ever experienced.
"Merde, fuck, please-" He gasps and squeezes his eyes closed. Desperate to ignore the burning in his gut, the lust flaring in his cock and his veins. To dampen the incredible sensations that threaten to take over his entirety. "Madame-!"
"I don't hear any begging, Olivier," you whisper, taking your weight as well as your pussy off him.
Olivier sobs and falls back onto the bed from where he's been straining upwards. "This is torture."
Dark laughter greets his ears, ringing in his head like a bell. "Torture? You don't know the half of it, my greedy slut," you purr against his chest. "You want torture? I'll give you torture."
And so it began, your cycle of stroking his cock with your pussy, your hands, your mouth. Of stroking him to the very edge of orgasm and then stopping. Of teasing him mindless with such expertise that he can't help but whimper and whine and go speechless with lust. Your small hands are tiny in comparison to his cock, your fingers unable to touch even when you grip with all your might. His cock, now slick with your pussy juices and saliva, slips easily as you stroke and squeeze.
His sounds, humiliating and desperate and wet, fill the air along with his rough panting and the slick sounds of precum sticking to his foreskin. With every edge, Olivier's desperate moans grow louder. With every edge, he becomes more sensitive. With every edge, his voice becomes thicker. Soon, he is begging you to sit on him. To ride his cock. To use him until he is ruined and wrecked.
"You want me to use you, slut?" You're panting now, a hand on his throat and the other braced upon his chest as you get back to rutting your clit against the head of his cock. Riding him as though you have him inside you. "Want me to use you as a toy to get me off, hm? Use your cock to cum and cum and cum and not let you orgasm at all?"
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes," Olivier growls and strains. "Please!"
"Please what?"
"Please use me!"
You laugh huskily down at him. "Do you wanna cum, Olivier?"
"Yes!" He cries out. "Please let me cum. Madame. Madame, please-"
"Okay." You grin, moving up onto one foot so you can brace yourself above his red hot cock. "You ready for it?"
"Yes, yes I'm so ready." His whimpers grow weaker.
"Don't close your eyes, my Olivier," you purr out, angling his cock right at your sopping wet pussy. "Don't close your eyes."
"I won't," he whispers.
His cockhead spreads your pussy lips. Thick, hot, and utterly unyielding. Pressing in further, deeper, until you finally let him sink within you. Olivier gasps with wide, unseeing eyes as he sinks deep inside you, grasped so heavenly by your incredible warmth. Yet, his lids grow heavy, threatening to close so he can lose himself in the orgasm that threatens to slip forth.
"Don't close your eyes."
"Madame-" He's going to cum.
"Open your eyes, Olivier."
"Madame-!" He's cumming!
"Olivier, wake up!"
Fuck! He ratchets up in his bed, his chest heaving as he takes in huge gulps of breath. His hand is wrapped around his throbbing, cumming cock, squeezing with a vice grip as globs of cum slip out. The blanket over his lap is already soaked through with cum and precum, forming the biggest wet spot he's ever seen.
"Olivier!" It's you!
"I'm awake!" He yells out, more grateful than ever that he's got a bunk to himself. "I'll be there in a minute."
You sigh through the door and knock a couple more times. "Come on, we've got drills this morning. Get your butt up and moving before Gustave has our asses!"
Olivier swears under his breath and wipes up the mess quickly. "I'll be right there, go ahead." Please don't come in.
"Fine. But hurry up!" And the next thing he hears is your footsteps as you walk away briskly.
Now alone, he falls back into bed with a groan and a palm over his face. Fuck, this crush is getting way out of hand.
Is it just me or is there something kinda cute about subs that act like doms? They try and command you, or whatever, and you kinda just laugh like "boi sit your ass down"
A birthday gift for @golele5! Sorry for the lateness but I hope you enjoy it!
"Agent McKinley, if you get any closer, you will actually be breathing down my neck," you drawl out, looking up and over your shoulder at your tall, suit-clad, moustachioed shadow.
"No can do, ma'am," he drawls back in that slow as molasses Southern accent, one that you know he never actually uses except to flirt. "Six said your noggin' is more important than mine. And when Six says jump, I say how high."
Utter lies. You roll your eyes and sigh. "If Six says so..."
Collin McKinley smiles down at you genially. "Thank ya kindly." Then he puts his hand in front of you to stop you from entering the stairwell first. "Let me go first and check it out, ma'am. Protection 101, remember?"
Infuriating. Utterly infuriating. "Of course, Agent McKinley. Take care that you don't get hit in the head when you do." The sneer on your face could freeze boiling water. The man knows full well you're as seasoned a protection agent as he is. Knows full well you're more than capable of not only protecting yourself but also eliminating anyone who comes after you. *You* know there's little beyond an entire army coming after you that will make you stop in your tracks.
But as always, Agent McKinley is steadfast in his annoying polite Southern gentleman facade. "Just ensuring that no hair on your pretty head gets hurt, ma'am," he says and waves you forward after taking a moment to listen. "Six was adamant in making sure you get back to base safely."
And there he goes with that hand to the small of your back, as though to guide you down the oh so scary staircase.
Goddamnit, you can't take it any longer! "Agent McKinley, touch me again and I'll break your fingers and offer it to your boss."
But rather than feel offended or affronted, the infuriating former Secret Service agent just returns his hand to his side without blinking. "Apologies, ma'am. Force of habit." That satisfied smile on his face says otherwise.
Oh, you know full well how much every move of his is thought out, planned, deliberate. Nothing is ever a 'force of habit'. Not even a hand hovering over the small of your back, touching the back of your blazer but never putting pressure. Is he flirting or is he trying to rile you up? Who could ever know with this man.
Rolling your eyes, you push past him and make your way down the flights of stairs to the garage, ears and eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. As annoyed as you are with Agent McKinley's overbearing 'protection', you have to admit you might actually need it. Apparently being a former royal guard for a now hunted monarch means that you've got a target on your back. You certainly never asked for a terrorist group to come after you.
Also, better him shadow you than that FBI woman with the stick up her ass or that lazy SAT fellow. Certainly better than the brooding masked agent who absolutely refuses to talk to anyone more than necessary and the cute German who seems to have the best comedic timing and the worst social skills you've ever seen. By process of elimination, perhaps Agent McKinley was the lesser of all the evils. Still, it doesn't stop you from feeling a thrum of irritation as you watch him open doors and enter ahead of you, as he checks over the vehicle and doesn't let you do the same. It rankles at you to be this powerless, to let others do the job that you've always done. To let yourself be protected rather than the protector.
"All clear, ma'am," Agent McKinley pipes up as he trots back to you. Like some overgrown, dark-haired, bespectacled puppy. "We're good to go."
You nod back at him and the two men standing by the vehicle. "Good, then let's go. Is our route secure?"
"Yeah," the man who introduced himself as Echo mumbles. "Ash and Vigil went ahead to scout. They said it's all clear on their end too."
Agent McKinley frowns behind his moustache. You do as well.
"Tell your colleagues to keep an eye out for motorbikes and cars. These men and women aren't snipers and gunmen." You furrow your brow and draw close enough to the car for Agent McKinley to open the back door for you. "Let's hope they don't get too creative."
"What was it with wishes and horses again?" The newest bane of your existence chuckles. "We've got a plan B, ma'am, not to worry."
You scoff. "Who's worrying? C'mon, let's get going before we become sitting ducks."
"Yes, ma'am," all three men chime out and hop in after you. The German takes the wheel and the lazy genius takes shotgun, his attention turning to the screen in his lap. Apparently, he has some drone going in the air that will serve as his eye in the sky. Agent McKinley just straps his seatbelt on patiently and goes through his various weapons, checking the magazines and making sure there's a round in the chamber in all of them. Interestingly enough, this mirrors your own actions.
How interesting.
But you ignore his amused look at your grumble, continuing to check your own inventory. Plan B indeed. But instead of an extradition route, as would be the worry for your entourage, you don't like putting your plans to paper. Or rather, you don't like planning in advance. You know the city, the countryside, the suburbs, like the back of your hand. You know your boltholes, your safehouses, and your various ways out of the country. Worst comes to worst, you'll be the one evacuating your bodyguards.
You hope it won't come to that, though. Three guns, four blades, several mystery vials and smoke bombs later, you finish busying yourself and look up just in time to spot a cute little sedan with a suspicious, nervous-looking driver at the next intersection.
"Blue sedan, white driver, two o'clo-ck!" The last syllable is yelped out as the sedan lurches forward and slams into your car.
"Contact, contact, contact!" Agent McKinley roars and yanks you down onto the seats, covering your body with his own as bullets tear through the window where your head was. "Jager, get us the fuck out of here!"
"We're boxed in," Jager grunts back, his breath catching as two more cars slam into the front and the back of your SUV. "Plan B. Evacuate the VIP, Warden!"
"You got it," he grunts and shakes glass out of his perfectly coiffed hair. "Give 'em hell, boys."
And by Plan B, the men mean shooting their way out.
While Jager and Echo draw enemy fire from the front, you and Agent McKinley break out from the back window, slipping free from the wreckage just in time to avoid a fourth car that slams into the passenger's side.
"Motherfucker!" Your growl is muffled by Agent McKinley's chest as he grabs you and rolls to the side to avoid the wheels. But his rescuing hug leaves an arm free for you to whip out a pistol and fire at the driver. "McKinley, I hope to hell you've got a plan C!"
"This is still plan B, ma'am," he drawls calmly, hooking his arms under your armpits to drag you to safety while leaving you to provide cover fire.
One gunman goes down, clutching his neck. Another cries out as he slumps against the blue sedan, hands gripping his bleeding thigh and not his now forgotten gun. A third topples over as he tries to bum rush you and McKinley, planting right onto his face as your round burns a neat hole between his eyes.
"Tell your men to extract once I'm out of sight," you hiss to him as you find your feet and lead the way to a nearby bolthole. "Since they clearly don't mind being shot at, they can help draw attention away while we find another way out of the city. If they're attacking now, they must have our other immediate routes covered. No way we're going to regroup with those two today."
"Roger," McKinley nods and complies with a quiet word. Surprising, considering how overbearing he was just now. That submissive tone of his piques your interest just a little; it's the most agreeable thing he's said since you met him. "Echo, Jager, retreat and rendezvous at point Delta. Going radio silent." Then he rips his earpiece out and stuffs it into a pocket. "You know, this feels familiar."
"Oh yeah?" you growl absent-mindedly, changing out your magazine for a fresh one as you're dragged around the corner of a building. "Why's that?" Another unlucky soul gets downed just as he rounds the corner after you, slamming into the ground with a sickening thump that you and McKinley both ignore. "I've got a bolthole not too far from here. Follow me." Without checking if he follows you, you turn and jog quickly down the alleyway.
"You and me, evacuating Baldwin a couple of years ago off the streets of Marrakesh." He follows you as he speaks, shiny oxfords barely making a noise on the rough concrete as he does so. "Finding one of your safehouses, waiting out the insurgents. Watching you sneak out to recon our exfil."
That mouth of his never stops moving, but strangely enough, his voice helps calm your oddly frayed nerves as you lead him down winding alleys and shady slums. You probably should've taken up your last shrink on her offer to talk about the reason why you left the Royal service, fuck. Who knew that a bunch of cars slamming into your own car would rattle you so much. At least your aim is still true and your experience keeps your hands from shaking, you think, because it would humiliate you to no end if you couldn't even protect yourself at this point.
But as much as you're trying to hide it, McKinley's eyes are ever sharp. "We close to the bolthole yet, ma'am?" He can see the wide pupils of your eyes, the way you're obsessively patting over your other hidden weapons, the way your lip trembles ever so slightly when you turn to answer him.
"Yeah, just up here." You nod up at the run-down, condemned building. "Up the fire escape, McKinley, let's go."
"Yes, ma'am."
The bolthole, one of many in this very city, is small. Bare. Purposed for a single person to take shelter for a night or two. So when you take a tall, well-built man and an average-sized woman and put both inside such a tiny space? You get a very irritated, and a very amused, pair of unlikely comrades.
"McKinley, do me a favour and plaster yourself to the wall so you're not constantly smothering me."
"I'd love to, ma'am, but I ain't flexible enough to bend over the counter," he quips back, though he does arch his back a little and shuffles out of the way so you can unload your arsenal on the tiny little table. "You know, if you wore some heels, you wouldn't have the trouble of having your face in my chest."
You roll your eyes. "Oh yes, let me wear heels and totter all around the city while running away from baddies," you mock him in a high pitched voice, one that doesn't seem to do anything other than tickle his funny bone by the way he's sniggering at you. "If only I could break their necks with it before I do myself."
"But at least you'll look good while you fall over?" McKinley shrugs and laughs as he dodges your thrown boot. Unlike Mr Secret Service, you prefer working boots over looking sharp these days. Which means a steel toe and a blade in the sole. "Kidding, darlin'. Just kidding. You look good in anythin' you wear."
As you shrug off your blazer and bulletproof vest, you glare at him over your shoulder. "'Darlin''? What happened to 'ma'am', huh? Mr Southern Gentleman."
McKinley sucks in air and hisses it out, the sound becoming oddly sexual when paired with the feel of the gust of wind on the back of your neck. "You like it when I call you 'ma'am', eh? I like it too."
"Don't you dare-" Whirling around, you plant a finger in his chest and glare up at him, only to look down when you realise your finger touches bare skin. "Did you just magically lose your clothes?" Although you have to admit, he looks *good*. Like, 'you'd lick chocolate off him' good. Just a healthy sprinkling of hair over his meaty pecs, a sexy happy trail going down into his belted slacks, and a little bit of fur over his forearms, but he looks damn good.
In fact, he looks so good, you didn't even realise you were staring a touch too long.
"My eyes are up here, ma'am." His voice melts into that twang that you love to hate and hate to love, drawing your attention back up to his brown eyes. They're smouldering, full of lust and passion both, fluttering between your chest, your finger, and your face. "Shame we're on the job."
Slap!
He gasps out a moan at the impact, his face swinging to the side from the impact of your palm hitting his cheek. But it wasn't a moan of pain; rather, it was a moan of pleasure. Looks like someone is kinkier than you could ever imagine. And that turns you the hell on.
"No, Agent McKinley." His eyes grow wide when you take a step towards him, pressing him back until his knees bump against the tiny cot. "*You* are on the job."
"Sure am." He nods, a cute little blush rising on his cheeks as he falls back on the cot with a quick shove. "Don't suppose I could, ah, take a little break for a bit? Reckon we're safe for now."
Another slap. Another moan. Another trembling lip and an amused smirk.
"Never took you to be a man who likes to be slapped around a little," you purr and lean over him, pressing your palms over his built chest just to feel his chest hair scratch at your callouses. "And no, no breaks for you."
He chuckles a strangled laugh, his hands clutching at the threadbare sheets and his hips squirming a little when you brace a knee between his thighs, pressing dangerously close to where he's rock hard and aching. "What red-blooded man could resist a powerful woman like you, ma'am? Especially when you're slapping me around in nothing but your underwear."
Another slap. Another even louder whimper.
"Don't be crass, Agent McKinley." You mimic his drawl in a mocking manner, retreating long enough to snatch his tie from the pile on the floor. "I'm not doing this for you."
His breath comes hot and fast, his chest rising and falling quickly as you yank him up the bed and loop the tie around his neck once more. "You ain't, but hell if this isn't going to benefit me to-o!" The O is cut short as you tie the fabric to the iron bars, anchoring him down and ensuring that he can't get out of it without using both hands. Hands which you're pinning by his sides with your knees, squeezing almost painfully tight but eliciting only a strangled moan instead of a wince.
Shit, Collinn McKinley is a hell lot kinkier than you take him for. What a coincidence that this is all up your alley.
"I think I like you a lot better when you're just making noises," you drawl and shimmy out of your pants and panties. The wet stickiness of your pussy juice soaks the lining of your panties, chilling your hand just a little as you wad it up. "Now keep quiet and let me enjoy this."
"What, you don't like me ta-" He doesn't manage to finish his sentence since you take the opportunity to stuff your sodden panties in his mouth. Jamming it and his tongue so he can only sputter and close his teeth once you take your fingers back. "Mmhh!" Well, if you want to play dirty, he's certainly not going to complain. Although, the missed opportunity to offer you his mouth to get yourself off is a bit of a waste. Still, he's got his hands, doesn't he? He's going to put that to good use, whether you slap him again for it or not.
Actually, he's almost asking for it.
With that in mind, he wriggles a hand free and closes it around your thigh as you slide yourself over his belly to straddle him.
"Oi!"
Collinn can only smile at the slap to his face. Jackpot. And yet he doesn't take his hand off you, relishing in the feel of your silken skin beneath his calloused hand, the warmth of you that almost burns his palm as he squeezes you gently.
On your end, you're struggling not to enjoy his touch too much. But fuck, he's got wonderful hands and he knows exactly how to make you feel worshipped even with just a single touch. He doesn't stray beyond your thigh, your hip, and your waist, only his long fingers touching the sensitive skin of your ass, never reaching for your sodden pussy lips that rub against his muscled belly. "Hmph, you're lucky you know what to do with those hands."
There goes his smug smirk. "Mm-hm."
You know what they say about infuriating smirks and wanting to kiss them off his mouth? Yeah, that's exactly what you're feeling right now. Uncaring about his perfectly styled hair, you slide your hands into those dark locks and ball your fingers into a fist, using it to tilt his head back and bare his lips so you can lick and kiss at them lightly, teasingly, riling him up until he's clawing at your back.
"Tease," he mumbles through the panties, pushing it out of his mouth enough that your next kiss is full on the lips. "You're such a fuckin' tease, ma'am."
"You got that goddamn right, McKinley," you growl and tug harder on his hair, pulling and pulling until he winces instead of moans, his jaw dropping from the sharp, erotic pain. "I am a fucking tease."
As much as he wants to quip something smart back at you, he's far too preoccupied with you finally kissing him full on the lips. And when you slip your tongue out so you can give him cute little kitten licks, he can't resist opening his mouth and trying to suck on your tongue where he can. Your taste is addictive, like he substances he swore off on so long ago, urging him to keep kissing, keep sucking, keep licking until his head starts to spin with your taste and your smell.
His lips are sinfully perfect, kissing you just the way you love. Even his soft moustache isn't detracting from his incredible skills. Then it turns out that McKinley is excellent at more than just kissing and making out, because when you lean up to take a break and stretch out your arms, he follows you and latches onto your neck. He sucks at your flesh, nipping at it gingerly with his teeth and then laving at the bruised skin with his tongue, all the while panting softly with an open mouth.
Unwilling to let him take the lead, you yank on his hair and jerk his head to one side to expose his ear. An ear that you promptly suckle like you would his cock. Breathing and moaning and hissing into it until he's squirming and digging his nails into your back.
"You're far too good at picking out my weakspots, darlin'," he gasps out thinly, his cock throbbing and threatening to split the seam of his boxers and his slacks. "Fuck!" A powerful shiver wracks his body when you react to his swear by licking at his earlobe and pulling it into your mouth to suck. "Fuck!"
A dark laugh escapes you at his helpless whimper, so very different from the very in-control Secret Service agent that you know him to be. "Mmm, something wrong, Agent?"
He growls, "You goddamn tease, ma'am. Just fuck me!"
Now here's a proper laugh. "Fuck you? With what, your unprotected cock? No condom, no fucking, Agent."
Who the heck stocks their bolthole with condoms anyway? You certainly never imagined bringing back a beau to fuck in this tiny space. Still, it doesn't stop you and him from groaning in disappointment. From what you felt in his pants, he's gotta be packing a decent cock in there. Then again, you're pretty unprepared, and who says you have to go without penetration just because you can't use his cock?
"Give me your hand."
McKinley hands his hand to you without complaint, watching you with keen eyes as you lick his, thankfully clean and freshly washed, fingers and lower it to where you're aching the most. Oh god. Oh fuck. If he thought you were a tease before, it's got nothing on what you're doing now. Because you're slowly sliding his fingers into your sopping, soaking wet pussy. Taking them knuckle deep and stuffing even more when you decide that a single digit isn't enough. Then when you find the perfect thickness, oh that's when you start to ride his fingers like you would his cock. His poor, poor cock that lies just mere inches away from where his fingers have found the heaven between your legs.
As expected, his fingers curve instinctively, seeking that one spot that will make you gasp and growl with pleasure. And find it he does, pressing so deliciously that you snarl at him to move his hand faster, to fuck you harder, to keep that spark going until your finger on your clit takes over and helps you cum. It's not the most powerful orgasm you've ever had, far from, but it's enough to make you moan quietly and claw at his bare chest as you ride the wave of intense pleasure.
He stares up at you with wonder and intense lust in his eyes, watching you ride out your orgasm and slump down ever so slightly. With a light sheen of sweat covering your skin and your hair ever so slightly mussed, you look like a goddess in the waning light that shines through the broken, frosted windows. He's not quite sure when he started to look at you as more than just a VIP, as more than a fellow bodyguard. If he wasn't certain you'd hit him for it, he'd say you're more like the previous head of Rainbow herself. A force of nature, wild, powerful, and something to be in complete awe of.
But he keeps that all to himself. An easy thing to do when you take his hand out of you painfully slowly, relishing in the obscene sucking sound as your greedy pussy finally lets go of his fingers. "Clean this up for me," you murmur breathlessly, turning his fingers onto himself and stuffing them into his willing mouth.
As he has most of his career, he obeys without a word, instinct spurring him to lick and suckle at his fingers like he would a popsicle. Sucking and taking your mouthwatering slick off his fingers and onto his tongue. The deep, musky, delightfully salty-sweet taste of it makes him moan without thought, his tongue becoming more and more greedy as he licks between his fingers, desperate to take every little drop you've left behind.
"Good boy," you croon at him with lidded eyes. "Never thought you'd be such a good boy, Agent McKinley. But I'll be nice this once. You want a reward?"
His moustache twitches. "Fuck yeah."
"Get up." With a grunt, you untie his tie from the bed and haul him off, bringing him to his knees. When he's there, kneeling and looking up at you with those fiery eyes, you bend your head and kiss him roughly. "Take your cock out."
"Yes, ma'am." He obeys. Flings his belt to the side, almost tears the button and zip off his slacks. But he eventually gets his cock out, his perfect, throbbing, thick cock that's weeping precum and drooling onto the floor.
"Put your cock between my legs."
What? He looks up at you with a raised brow.
Rolling your eyes, you take over by bending and pinning his cock between your thighs. While you generally curse your short height, at this point you're grateful for it because his cock is sandwiched between the soft flesh of your thighs rather than the bony bits of your knees. "Move."
"Nnngh, thank you, ma'am," he whispers, his arms wrapping around your hips to help balance you as he begins to thrust his hips. Soft, slicking sounds come from behind you as he fucks your thighs; the sound of his foreskin slicking against his pre-cum soaked head, joining the sounds of you kissing the life out of the agent even as he fucks your thighs desperately.
"Fuck my legs till you cum. If you don't cum, too bad," you purr into his lips, enjoying the low groan as he nods his understanding. Deciding to give your lips a bit of a break, you rear up and rip your bra off. You want his lips on your tits and you want them there right now.
Collinn knows exactly what you want and gives it to you. He sucks, licks, and kisses your nipples and creates little hickies along the way. Worshipping your breasts with teeth and tongue and hands until you're clutching at his hair, pulling him ever closer until his face is squished in your cleavage. All the while he's pounding your legs like he would your pussy, his hips slapping against your thighs until both of you are starting to turn red from the impact.
Ah, but it takes surprisingly little time before he begins to beg you nice and pretty. "May I cum, ma'am?" He gasps into your chest.
"Mmmm," you purr and scratch at his scalp. "Not yet."
"Fuck!"
Undeterred, he tries again. "Pretty please, ma'am?"
"Not yet."
He's starting to lose his mind from holding his orgasm back. It's so close, he can taste it, can feel it rising in his balls. "Please!"
"Not yet. Hold it."
Finally, he breaks, snarling and clawing at you and seizing your lips with his own. "Fucking please let me cum, for god's sake! You're gonna drive me up the goddamn wall."
"That's the point," you cackle aloud. But you relent nevertheless. "Cum for me, slut."
Those four words tip him over the edge. "FUck!" He yells but squeezes it back into his throat, gritting his teeth and burying his face into your chest. His hips thrust uncontrollably, his twitching cock sending his cum spurting out and all over the place. Grunts and whimpers escape his throat long after his cock stops leaking cum, leaving his throat dry and sticky and aching as his head is pulled up and back so he can look up at you.
"You liked that, Agent McKinley?" Your voice is smug now.
A faint smile twitches across his handsome face and he cracks an eye open. "I goddamn loved it." Then he leans up to press a kiss to your smiling lips. "Ma'am."
Cheeky motherfucker. Well, you've got something that will keep him quiet for a while. "Good. Now clean this up. With your mouth."
Ah I have missed you! I keep going back to the first suggestion you had for me. May come back for some devil may cry boys later lol
Awww thank you! Yesyes come back for V hehehe
I’ll be working on more patreon stuff though so it’ll be pretty quiet here till I clear out my backlog. Those will be released a few days after it goes live on patreon~
Would you mind sharing any recourses you have about being a dominate? I'm baby stepping my way into the BDSM community but I'm not sure where to start, and any tips and such especially as a girl would help TONS 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
Ah, I don’t really have any online resources/journals about dominance, I’ve learned most of my ‘craft’ from mentors and older dominants in my local community. The best way to learn is to join Fetlife (you can google it but it gets caught by anti-p0rn filters), join your local community, and to ask questions. If you can find a local femdom group and start joining them for munches and parties, you’ll be able to locate a dominant that you can talk to for advice. Ask that dominant if they’d take you on as a mentee, but if you can’t, just keep going to events and watching and learning. But if you want reading beyond Fetlife, googling femdom articles should suffice. Stay away from things like cosmopolitan or gossip sites, try going to dedicated BDSM sites where you can be assured the person writing it isn’t pulling shit out of their ass.
But if you really can’t find anything, you can always ask me questions and I’ll answer to the best of my ability. I’m not a pro-domme and neither am I super experienced, but what I do know I’m happy to share :D
Hello! Just wanted to say first off that I love your writing and you are one of the only people I have on post notifications and I’m always so excited when I see you’ve written! Also I was wondering if you’ve played Far Cry 5 at all and would be willing to write for it? (Sorry if you’ve been asked this before or don’t like asks like this!)
Thank you! Definitely don’t mind receiving asks for this, don’t worry! I haven’t played Far Cry 5 but I don’t think I’ll write for it, sorry :(( I saw a bit too much of it when it was all the rage a while back and I do have some issues with religious cults >< Sorry!
V's velvety voice startles you from your daydreaming.
"V!" You whirl around from tapping on your laptop, a bright smile spreading over your lips from seeing him standing there, bare-ass naked with his hands adorably cupping his crotch and a slight blush on his defined cheekbones. "How'd your shower go, baby?"
The dark-haired poet bites his lip and draws close, squaring up before you. "It went well, Master," he whispers, hands still twitching over his crotch and barely concealing his rock hard cock. "I...I cleaned myself for you, Master."
"Did you?" Oh, he's so adorable when he smiles that tremulous smile. "Get into the inspect pose, darling."
Without a word, V straightens up to his full height. Stiffens his back. Raises his hands up and linking them behind his head to keep them out of the way. Struggles not to cover himself as you admire his beautiful cock, as you turn it this way and that and pull down his foreskin to check that he's cleaned himself well. But it is when you lift his balls and cup them playfully that a little whimper slips from his lips.
"Oh, sensitive, are we?" You giggle and push down on his cock, letting it bounce up and jiggle this way and that. "Cute. Bet the month in this little beauty didn't help." And by 'this beauty', you mean his metal cock cage. Lifting it by your face, you dangle it from your finger and grin. "Get ready to get back in~!"
"Please-"
Ah.
"What's the matter, baby?" You simper up at him.
V's lip is nearly bleeding from how hard he's biting it. "Master, I..." His voice cracks and he forces himself to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Master, I believe you mentioned allowing me a cheat day yesterday."
Oh yes, you did say that, didn't you? Letting his cock go, you point to your feet, thoughts swirling in your head as you watch him get down to his knees. "How long have you been in chastity, V?"
He places his palms on his thighs gently, knees spread, and tips his head up to look at you in the eyes. "Thirty-two days, Master." With those devastating puppy dog eyes out in full force, he flutters his lashes and wets his lips, aiming to look the most attractive that he can, the most seductive that he can, in the hopes that you decide an entire month and some change is long enough to hold his orgasm from him. Heck, he's just about crawling up the walls with his need.
"Thirty-two days," you hum and tap your lip. "Bet you're getting a bit desperate now, aren't you?"
Oh, you have no idea. He's starting to snap at Nero and Dante, starting to paw at you a lot more than is appropriate. Starting to rub up on you and cuddle you even closer in bed in the hopes that you'll allow him to rut against your backside. Desperate doesn't cut how he feels right now. "Yes, Master. It's getting quite...hard." The last bit is murmured quietly under his breath, his voice trailing off as he notices the intense lust and hunger in your eyes. "Master, is it not hard for you as well?"
His quiet throwback makes you laugh loudly. "Hard? Oh, honey, that's the understatement of the century!" Getting up, you circle around him slowly, touching his shoulders, the hickeys you left behind on his neck and collarbone, the bruises from his daily spankings, and the livid scratch marks on his back. "You have no idea how many times I've just wanted to throw you on the bed and ride you till you're fucked stupid," you whisper into his ear, snaking your arms around his neck until you're cupping his pecs and playing with his perky nipples. "How many times I've wanted to hop on your cock after I've fucked your ass so good you're shaking."
A powerful shiver goes through V's body and he moans, his cock jumping and flexing with each word that you whisper into his ear. "I-" he pants, "I want that too, Master."
"Is that so?" Suddenly, you wrench his head back with a hand twisted into his dark locks, yanking and pulling until he's flailing for balance. "Is that what you want?"
Despite the tight grip on his hair, despite the pulling of his scalp, he nods feverishly, lashes fluttering and eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Yes," he gasps. "I want you to fuck me senseless, Master. To take me. Claim me. Destroy me and rebuild me until I can't fucking take it any longer-ah!" The yelp that escapes him follows your teeth latching onto his shoulder. "Maste-!"
"Shut up," you growl, moving out of the way and pulling and pushing him until he's sprawled out on his back beneath you. "I need you to put your mouth to better use than spouting poetry right now." Your words are hastily spoken and roughly said, breathed out between urgent movements as you rip your pants and underwear off. As you bat away his hands and straddle his face, you use both hands to grab at his hair, his face, his head to pull him exactly where you need him.
And V, bless him, dives right into you without any further coaxing, his hands obediently lying by his sides instead of cupping your thighs and your hips like he so clearly want.
But now, now you don't care about his obedience. "Hands on my hips, V."
Immediately, his hands fly up and cup your ass and your hip, his long elegant fingers digging into your skin as he supports you, pulls you down closer to where his lips and tongue are working overtime to slurp up your dripping slick. And you are, dripping that is, because nothing is hotter than seeing V beg on his knees for you to use and abuse him as you wish. For you to take and take and take until he has nothing left to give. He moans at your taste, at the way you fist your hands in his hair to anchor him so you can rut against his face. Against his proud nose and those puffy lips so roughly that you can feel his head moving with the force of your hips. And yet he's moaning uncontrollably, gasping and whimpering and moaning your name and your title between slurps and sucks.
He's a voracious pussy eater, your V. Tireless, hungry, eager to please, but most of all responsive even though he's nearly smothered under your weight as you ride his face. "Make me cum, baby. Make me cum and I'll fucking ride the shit out of your dick." His fervent nodding only feels that much better against your oversensitive flesh. Withholding from touching yourself without him around means it'll take much less to make you cum. Much, much less. In fact, you're already feeling that warmth deep in your belly, that itching need to cum. "Suck my clit, use your tongue, baby, come on!"
Good, obedient V loses his breath at your firm command, his chest heaving and his hands twitching on your hips as he hurries to obey. His mouth and his tongue work overtime, swirling around your clit. Suckling on your lips. Sticking his tongue as far into you as he possibly can, ignoring his aching jaw to lick up every little drop of pussy juice. Smothering himself and shortening his breath from stuffing his nose into your mound to reach as far into you as possible. And then! And then, V does the one thing that he knows you absolutely love.
Taking a hand off your hip, taking those beautiful, long pianist's fingers, he slips two fingers into your soaking wet pussy and curls them just right. Pairing powerful strokes of his hand with long sucks of his mouth, he coaxes you over the edge with such familiarity and such confidence that it takes your breath away. Literally.
"V!" You gasp, hands fisting in his hair and pulling as your thighs snap tight around his head. Your orgasm takes you by storm, making you shake like a tree in a hurricane until you're doubling over him, your muscles jumping and spasming and making you twitch uncontrollably until it plateaus into complete, white-out inducing bliss. His fingers keep pumping in and out of you through the clamping of your walls, stretching out your orgasm until you're slumping down ever so slowly, your body slowly going limp from the incredible pleasure. "Oh V, fuck, so fucking good, baby~"
Underneath you, V slows down his fingers and his sucking, his free hand coming up to brace your bicep as you slowly ease yourself off his face. His mussed, messy, soaked face.
As you sit gingerly on your bum, you reach out to stroke his hair out of his eyes. "How you feeling, baby?"
Stirring from his daze, V licks his lips and turns his head towards you, his eyes bleary but slowly clearing up as he watches you watch him. He swallows quietly and kisses your palm gently, blinking. "I'm doing good, Master. What about you?" His hand comes up, pressing your hand closer to his lips.
Sweet boy. Smiling, you lean down and press a kiss to his lips. "I'm doing so good, baby," you murmur into his damp skin, parting far enough to wipe away a bit of pussy juice off his nose and then smear it over his lips. "You horny, V, baby?"
Your pretty little raven-head bites his lip hard and nods quickly, so quickly that his hair flops all over the place from how hard he's shaking his head.
"You wanna cum?"
More nodding.
"You want me to ride you and fuck you and let you cum inside me?"
V's breathing comes hot and heavy, those dark eyes becoming darker still, and his face goes as bright a red as humanly possible. "Yes," he whimpers. "Please. Please ride me." He holds onto your wrists and squirms his body, spreading his legs and arching his hips upwards to display his rock hard, red hot, throbbing cock. "Please?"
An evil grin spreads across your face and you nip his plush lower lip. "How badly do you want it?"
"I desire it," he whispers, staring straight into your eyes. "Crave it. I crave your dominance, Master. But please, I...I can't take it any longer."
Your hand snakes around his throat and presses gently, firmly, tilting his head up so that you break that precious eye contact. "Beg me more."
"You're so cruel. So, so cruel." V's voice is broken, weak, yet full of desire and submission. "I hate that you dangle my orgasm out of my reach, and yet tease me with its shadow. The thing that I covet, that I desire almost above anything else. But I love your dominance, your power. Master, your control over me is absolute. All I am, all of it is yours. I am but a slave to your will." Then he leans into your grip. "Master, please. Mercy."
Ah, that submission. The giving of power to you. The decision over his orgasm. That even with his cage off, with his cock free, he chooses to give you that privilege of controlling his pleasure. That makes you almost drunk with ecstasy. And what do you do with that power?
"Poor baby, so desperate, so needy," you whisper into his ear. Then you take his earlobe between your teeth and suck on it. Hard. "But you still can't cum today."
His eyes fly open. "Master-"
"Didn't you say you'll obey me?" Your voice turns dark, dangerous in the silkiest way.
His eyes flutter closed, his throat bobs. "I...I did, Master." He leans up, pressing his throat harder against your palm. "I'm yours, Master. I am yours to use as you desire."
"You are, V," you murmur and kiss him gently, taking the cock cage from where it fell on the floor. "Now put your hands behind your head and spread your thighs. You're going back inside."
V visibly bites back a sob but he obeys without a second thought, bringing his knees up and pressing them open to the sides. Baring all of himself for you.
