syn: with the help of an English detective, the serial murderer, Johan liebert, was finally caught and put to justice. as he awaits trial, he engages in a obssesive game of cat and mouse with his captor, detective L. one that will destroy them both. tdlr; L captures Johan n fucks him
an: please comment, i dont bite!. this shit came to me from the heavens
It was a checkmate.
There were no smiles from Johan. No laughs, no charm, no anything. His face was dead and cold, hardened with silence, tainted with rage. His eyes circle around the sirens and the bold lights thrown his way.
L had him surrounded.
The detective really won.
Every breath he takes is slow, burdened, quiet. He calmly stands at the bottom of the stairs in his neat suit.
“Get on the ground!”
His fight against the all-knowing Detective was a bitter one. Anna and Tenma teamed up against him with a new detective from England, one who did not doubt the validity of Tenma's claim. And after a full year of efforts, the secretive detective caught him.
A year of cat and mouse.
He finally lost.
He's taken in, gruff, harsh, roughed up, and thrown into the back of a van, sitting with officers breathing down his neck. He's immediately taken to custody, stripped, searched, uniformed, fingerprinted, and given a DNA sample, the whole nine yards, before being thrown into solitary confinement.
The days blended into one massive blur, a blur Johan is sure he disassociated himself from, as when he finally came to, he found himself wrapped in the rainy, gloomy aura of a cell he wasn't all too sure how he had landed in.
It was tiny, metal, cramped. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. The blonde was dressed in a gray jumpsuit, sat on the floor, behind him, a metal bed. To his left, at the very top of the ceiling, was a window he couldn't peer into, and from it came dark, stormy blues.
Quiet.
Johan heard his breath. He heard the soft leaking from the pipes above him.
Quiet.
He felt how cold his fingertips were, how cracked and dry his lips were.
Quiet.
He could smell himself. He stunk of sweat, a sign that his body was deeply disrupted.
And quiet.
He could taste bland seasonings on his tongue.
He's been defeated. And so now…
Now what?
A sharp veering cracks the room open, but Johan keeps his eyes planted to the floor. The sound stops, and a flat glow shines before him. He sees its reflection against the tiles. A click cuts through the air.
“Johan.”
It's a heavy, distorted voice, filtered through numerous voice changers.
A voice he's familiarized himself with as the English detective's voice.
“Adjusting well to your new life? It's been a very quiet week for you.”
A week.
Johan still stares blankly at the floor.
“You've never slowed down this long, have you?” He patronizes.
“Your court is scheduled in May. Until then, you're in my private prison… Congratulations, Johan. You're one of the five who have the privilege of living here.”
The speakers buzz.
“Welcome to England.”
And with that, the speakers shut off.
—
Time passes, and Johan is unsure of how long. He can't remember the last time he heard a voice, not even his own. His throat was locked, his mind seeming to turn off for hours, only to force itself back on. He wakes, finding himself lying in bed, a soft gasp trailing from his lips.
He blinks, gazing up at the window so far out of reach. It was dark in the cell yet again, a cool midnight light pooling in from the ceiling. He swallows thickly, his heart suddenly beginning to race. He blinks it away, snuffing a sigh. But it comes back, leaping against his throat.
He lets it take over.
His first word in weeks,
“Detective…”
He hushes it beautifully. Air bends to the will of his silky, strained voice.
With no surprise, the veering sound appears, a glow takes the room, and a click starts the speakers.
“Johan.”
The detective replies instantly, urgently.
Even at this time of night, he's able to reply so swiftly.
He was watching Johan.
Had been for a while.
Johan has nothing else to say.
And so, he shuts his eyes, drifting off to sleep.
—
Lawliet can't stop ruminating on that night.
Johan, mass murderer, terrorist, arsonist, money launderer, and more, was finally caught. Stopped in a failure he couldn't erase, and now he spends his days lying near lifeless every day.
He eats like a programmed robot, neglects the timed hobbies given to him, and lies like a statue. But last night, he called out to him. Lawliet was shocked; he swore the sound was a memory. Unreal, untrue. Yet he never said a word, drifting into a strange, soft sleep.
His demeanor changed.
L had been watching him sleep for weeks now. Before, it was rugged, primal. A sleep unquestioned the way an animal would, sleep performed out of pure necessity. But that night, a faint softness shaped his arms. They were relaxed.
Johan, the launderer, abuser, torturer, and leader of organized crimes, called out like a child in the night before drifting back asleep. And L, the cunning detective, was left at a quiet stump, watching, waiting more eagerly than usual, to watch him sleep.
He left his mic on for so long, simply waiting. Yet nothing arrived.
Lawliet was getting a little bored with his subject.
Perhaps he needed some fun.
–
A heavy clunk broke Johan's usual silence as the slot on the door broke open. A tray was slid through the crack. The blonde stood, walking over to the door. But to his surprise, the officer still held onto the tray, as if needing it to be taken from his hands.
The officer wore a black sanitary glove.
Johan craned his head at this, the first mystery that slapped him out of his cage. His eyes briefly flickered to the camera on the ceiling, but in the end, he took the tray from the officer.
“Thank you…”
His pretty voice calls.
The door slot slams shut.
And Johan sits with his plate.
He feels it again.
Right as he takes the first bite, he feels the detective's stare all over him.
What for?
He chews the food in his mouth, finding a familiar taste on his buds. He takes in a sharp inhale, eyes flickering to the food he slipped into his mouth.
Döner.
Chicken döner.
He never paid attention to what he ate here. Half the time, his mind wasn't there. But this taste was pleasant. His head was brought low, as if protecting his reaction from the detective's greedy eyes.
What did this detective want?
When the night came around, Johan lay in bed, as he usually did, staring blankly at the ceiling. Only this time, his whole body was tense, tense as if he were aware.
A veering sound shakes the room, followed by a glow and a click.
The detective speaks,
“The police arrive at a crime scene. They find the deceased slumped over a desk in his study. In one hand, the deceased has a revolver; in the other, a voice recorder. The last recorded message is the deceased's statement. They say, ‘I can't go on. This is for the best.’ A gunshot sounds, and the recording ends.”
The sounds were foreign to the blond's ears. Every word seemed to glitter in his mind, glitter uncontrollably.
He smiles faintly.
L continues, “The police claim this is not a suicide. Why is it not?”
Johan chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Detective, you know why.”
“I do. Do you?”
Johan pulls two fingers to the side of his skull, folding his thumb like a gun. He cocks his thumb and ring finger, his eyes hazing over, “Can a dead man end a recording?” His hand floats to his chest, and his palm rests over his heart.
“An easy one, detective.”
“You'd be correct, Johan.”
Silence overtakes the room.
After a long beat, Johan speaks. “Where are you, detective?”
“Tokyo.”
“And I am in England?”
“Correct.”
“And you gave me Döner tonight. It tasted just like Munich.”
“Correct.”
“Am I in Munich, detective?”
“Yes.”
“Are you in Munich, as well?”
“No.”
“Have you told a lie?”
“Yes..”
“How many?”
“Two.”
—
Night falls, three days have passed. Johan knows it now, as he finally begins to wake up. He remembers a little under half the days now, a rare streak for him. His routine hasn't changed. He still denies his hobbies, and eats on a program. Except that two things have changed.
The officers hand him his food, and they wait until he says thank you.
And at night, L tells him riddles.
Night falls, and Johan sits eagerly at the edge of his bed, facing the high windows. He stares at it with a sharpness ebbing in his eye, thick lashes fluttering over his cheeks.
A veering takes the room, followed by a glow, and a sharp click.
The detective says nothing.
Neither does Johan.
Johan perches the opportunity.
“A body lies on the street in front of a hospital... The damage suggests the deceased jumped from the third story and committed suicide…” his airy voice fills the room. Immediately, Lawliet is on the edge of his seat, thumb picking at his teeth.
“L decides to visit the hospital,” Johan murmurs, a humored chuckle trailing from his lips.
“What do I do there, Johan?”
“You go to the first floor... Order the staff to open the windows, and you flip a coin… It lands tails… Then to the second… You order the staff to open the windows, and you flip a coin… It lands heads. Finally, to the third… You order the staff to close the windows, and so you flip a coin… It lands heads.”
L grins, a soft chuckle trailing from his lips. The sound meets Johan's ears, and he too grins.
“The first floor lands tails… Second, heads… Third, heads again…” Johan leans back into the bed, a tranquil expression shaping his face. “Why is this not a suicide?”
“You're quite deceitful, Johan,” L speaks.
“How so?” Johan murmurs.
“This was a suicide.”
“I believe you're wrong.”
“Prove your side, Johan.”
“No, detective, prove me wrong.”
He croaks, “You distract me with the coins and their outcomes. These are red herrings. You try to relax my mind with repetitions, saying the same exact words in the same monotone, so my brain will assume what you will say next… In this riddle, I order the staff to close the windows, meaning they were open before…”
He pauses, “In all of the other floors, the windows were closed… Had the story been that the deceased jumped from the second… It would be a murder, because the windows were shut at the time of death. Considering that on the third floor, they were open at the time of death, it is highly likely this was a suicide…”
“You give the detective my name to make us friendly, to make me laugh.. Then you chuckle… “ L continues.
“You don't care about the answer. You only wanted to deceive me, Johan.”
“Hahaha…. How clever… Such a strange perspective, detective… I believe it was a murderer simply–”
“You deceive me well, Johan.”
He quiets. And for the first time, Johan looks in the direction of the veering, the glow, and click, and he's met with a Television screen, with a logo of an “L”
Lawliet's breath catches in his lungs.
“First time you've looked at me.”
Johan stares, his expression filled with an itch. A desperate itch he couldn't scratch.
“What is it? What is that gaze, Johan?”
“Were you persuaded?” His eyes haze over, and an air overtakes the room. It's an air Lawliet can't place a name to, and air that forces him to gulp, and he's deeply aware of how his heart leapt. It's a needy sound, Johan's voice is.
“Yeah, I was,” L chimes.
“Detective,” Johan draws a hand through his hair, relaxing into the sheets, picking up his left leg while the other lies comfortably. He spread himself wide, and wide, he turned to face the camera, lying on his belly, propping his face with his hand, his legs cracking open.
L stares; he stares so hard. His feet barely keep his balance in his chair anymore, his knees carry his weight against the desk, and his eyes are leaning into the screen. They're blown wide.
“Trying to seduce me?” That heavily filtered voice calls.
It shocks Johan. He visibly flinches at the bluntness.
“Did you think I'd play with words forever?” L bites. “I have nothing to lose. You can't go anywhere. I already won.”
The television is retracted immediately, it clicks, the glow fades, and it makes a veering sound as it sinks back into the wall. Plates cover it.
The blonde's heart felt beating in his chest.
No matter it
He turns the thing off inside him and forces sleep.
—
L is so sure he jumped the gun. Pride crushes him with annoyance, a sharp anger. He ends it all before Johan could say anything else, spins the story however he liked. He couldn't take it anymore, Johan tried to play him as if he were stupid. Still clinging to the egregious idea that he could somehow trick him. And worse, if Johan continued, he'd surely prove him wrong.
He fooled him for a full year. He's knocked down cases that took others ten years in three weeks. Johan successfully baited him for a year. When he finally caught him, he gave him no real reaction. Not anger, not fear, not sadness, just a bottomless emptiness. Like a broken child.
He's heard his story from Tenma. He's heard things others couldn't dream of. Anna spared him rare meetings, and in them he heard nightmares. He knows all of what Johan is. He's studied him relentlessly. He denied every case until he cracked the German monster.
The monster that left no paper trails.
That had no name. Or identity.
Foolishly, he called Johan every damn false name before catching Tenma. Franz, Otto, Erich, Hans, Thomas, J. The thought alone made L's mind scream. He was fooled.
Him. The prodigy, fooled.
And when he finally won.
Johan acted like a mindless puppet on a string.
Or more befittingly, a mentally ill man lost in an endless string of disassociation. Like a heavy cloud washed over him. Every night, he slept with pale lips.
Calling out to him in the rare breaks he'd wake up, only to fall asleep as if Lawliet was his lifeline. To an extent, he was his only connection to anything.
He made him feel so possessive.
And if it all was another elaborate ruse. L would be angry because he was falling for it.
L clears his head when he hears a chime from his computer. He takes a shape breath, gazing back up at the man across the screen.
“Doctor Tenma,” L greets, a faint fondness in his voice. It was drowned out by the voice changer.
The doctor looked so much better. His hair was finally kept, his beard trimmed, and a well-loved glow glimmered from him.
“Detective, good evening!” He's cheery, but worry plagues his eyebrows.
“Settling into your new position fine, Tenma?”
“Oh yes, it's delightful to have it back. Some residents here were old patients of mine, so I can go back to caring for them again. It's fulfilling.”
“I'm glad to hear. You deserve it. It's been a long time since I caught you, Tenma. You and little Dieter. Is he well?”
“Oh yes. He's starting school next month. He's nervous, but he's a tough kid.”
“That's wonderful to hear. I'm very proud.”
Tenma laughs, his bright smile like pureness in the wind. He was gaining his life back; it was clear in his face. But the conversation was beginning to change, change to what Tenma really wanted to hear.
“L,” Tenma's voice is tender. “How is Johan?”
“He seems to be struggling,” L admits.
He watches as a tender grimace takes Tenma's features. He shakes his head quietly, blinking sharply. In his mind, Tenma still saw him as the boy he made a wish to, which L could see.
“I believe he should be evaluated professionally. I have prepared sessions for him. They start in a week…” L speaks. Tenma nods along, a seriousness taking him. “Based on prior experience, and in your personal opinion, Doctor, are there any traits you believe Johan shows?”
Tenma leans back with a heavy sigh. “I believe Johan has an identity disorder… he may also have antisocial personality disorder… His disconnection from humanity is impulsive; it's something I've seen in residents here. I also believe he shows strong signs of complex post-traumatic stress disorder…”
Lawliet looks down, his carefully written notes lining the table. “I agree with you, Tenma.” He leans over and takes a bite out of the cake he has sitting beside him. “How do you feel about dissociative disorder? Do you feel that describes Johan?”
Tenma blinks, pursing his lips in thought. “A dissociative disorder…”
“He is heavily disconnected from reality… Most of the time spent in his cell, Johan stares at blank walls… Refuses to interact with any stimuli… But he responds well to conversation.”
Tenma hums in thought. “To add onto what you're saying… I strongly believe Johan has Dissociative Identity Disorder.”
L glances sharply. He agrees, but eggs Tenma on for more, “How so?”
“A professional evaluation is needed, but… As a neurosurgeon, I believe Johan shows symptoms of having two distinct states of varying personalities…”
“Like the sign he wrote on the water tower… Help me… The monster inside of me is about to explode…”
Tenma grimaces at the memory, “Yes. Exactly that. One side of him is crying for normalcy. The other can't control itself… I believe he also has a state of self-hatred… Johan wants to…” Tenma swallows thickly. “I believe he is suicidal.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Your consistent efforts help us in our thorough investigation of Johan. We hope to place him in proper care. Though it is lively, Johan will never leave a cell in his lifetime; we can assure him that he will not be placed in the wrong hands… He… He desperately needs help.”
Tenma nods along, pain striking his face. It was a fatherly gaze. Intense and pleading.
“If I may, detective… Could I ever visit him?”
—
Johan expected to have a normal day. But instead, he was met by an officer, who was throwing his door open. He snapped awake, immediately going to stand. Three officers entered the room, cuffing his hands tightly. He stood, confused, yet patient, staring at the final officer, who stood before him.
Once the cuffs were on, she finally spoke, “Inmate. You're being moved locations.”
Shock holds his face, but he has no time to relish in it. He's moved through the building, taking in so much that he missed before. There was an open area with nearly hundreds of inmates he'd never seen, cells big as rooms, a cafeteria, and so much staff. He was placed in extreme solidarity confinement, and now he finds himself being pushed through the front desks, six officers about him, as they carried him out of the building.
He cocked his head back to the building as he left it, catching a large sign in Cyrillic just as he was loaded onto a truck.
The detective lied.
He was not in England, nor were there only five inmates.
Meaning, the two lies he told were the very last two.
Johan chuckles quietly to himself.
He likes their little game.
He's trailing for a while. He's sure it's been a full day spent traveling in that cramped car. The officers rotated out, and he was given food; they even made stops at police facilities on the way. When he's finally let out, he finds himself standing outside a building, where the landscape around it is completely flat.
There wasn't a single hill or mountain, and so his clever eyes pinpointed a few locations.
Johan is under the assumption that this detective is bringing him closer to home. And why?
This prison was medium-sized, and the staff wasn't as tough; they carried wise eyes and gentle smiles. The intimacy here didn't look as rough either, and the cells were spacious enough. He was brought to a cell, in solitary confinement from others, with a large, grand window, bookshelves dotted with literature, desks, and a television. He had a toilet and sink, and down the hall, he passed a large communal bathroom.
A part of him weaned at the sight.
After settling work, he was dropped off in his cell for the rest of the day.
Out the grand window, he could see beautiful, flat planes, with thick fluffy clouds and a shining sun. The weather here was pleasant. It lacked the gloomy, despairing air the last prison had.
A click sounded in the room. And Johan's eyes flickered to the television.
“Welcome to your new cell, Johan.” The distorted voice cooed.
Johan softly turns to face the television. Meekly, he says, “Thank you.”
L takes a deep breath, his eyes shut tightly. He swallows thickly.
“Is this the Netherlands?"
“Brilliant. You're correct.”
“I realized the two lies. They were the last two, weren't they?”
“Correct.”
Johan sighs contentedly. It's evident that he adores his new cell. He approaches the bookshelves, skimming through brilliant works. He begins to pick some off the shelf, totalling nineteen out of the collection of thirty.
“Getting to reading?”
“No. I've read all of these, detective.” Johan rests a palm on his stack as he turns to the television.
“Leave those out. We'll get you new books.”
“Thank you.”
There's a fondness in the air, one neither could deny.
L is becoming trapped in the web that was Johan Liebert.
—
Johan learned that therapy sessions were an important part of life here in his new cell. They happened once in the morning, every day. They were mandatory. He meets with a therapist every day, and has a session with a psychiatrist at the end of the week.
Not only that. He gets to eat in a room with windows that peer into the court and the cafeteria. Though isolated, seeing other people seems to improve his mood.
And finally, after two weeks of adjustment, he begins to pursue hobbies. Painting, puzzles, workshops. Johan crawls out of his shell. He spends most of his time, outside of hobbies, filling up on literature, leaving the books he's finished out to be replaced.
L has started to let him be, finally picking up other projects. His time spent ruminating over Johan is coming to a close, and despite every fiber in him wanting to move on, something beckons him every now and again.
At night, he tunes into Johan, ogling him. Watching the pretty blonde, somewhere in the late afternoons of the Netherlands, reading in a corner next to the window, enjoying the rays on his face.
Maybe it was the coffee he drank, or his daily nap being two hours too short. Lawliet felt brave, playful.
He connects to his television with a click, voice low against the microphone. “Adjusting well, inmate?”
Johan perks up at the voice, his eyes soft in surprise. “If it isn't our detective... It's been a while.”
His voice, his face, his long limbs, the paleness of his skin; all of it was beautiful. Lawliet was never a handsome guy; he was a far cry from it. So his gut mixed with yearning and jealousy.
Something changes in L.
Something he needs to see through.
He spits out quickly, “I have been talking with your therapist. He believes experiencing a roommate may be good for you. A trial period. You will be moved to rooms… You are also subject to a return if Doctor Wilkman sees fit…”
Johan hums, “Understandable, detective.”
“Make a good impression, Johan… This trial period will start sometime next week. The officers will notify you.”
—
The day his cellmate arrived, Johan was up in arms. He hadn't talked to anyone face-to-face like this in such a long time. Someone other than officers, staff, detectives, or another human being. He got the notification that his cellmate had arrived in his hobby class. He finished whatever furniture he built quickly and returned to his new cell.
To no surprise, his cellmate was a normal person.
He was of average height, pale, with straight, black hair. He spares Johan a look as he kicks off his shoes, scratching his ankle with his foot. His eyes carried dark, heavy circles.
“Nice to meet you,” The cellmate mumbles, a thumb perched between his lips. “You're really handsome in person.”
The cellmate comes marching right up to him, so close they might have well been a breath away. “Johan Liebert. That kid… That murderer.” He purses his lips in thought. “Wow, how'd you get your skin so clear?”
“You know me,” The blond asks.
“Who doesn't?”
“What's your name?”
He smacks his lips, “Ryuzaki.”
Johan steps back, turning to the shelves in the room. “Oh? Are you perhaps Japanese?”
“M'yeah,” despite backing up, his cellmate returns, standing a breath away from him again. They're near shoulder to shoulder.
“How pleasant.”
“That guy who brought you down was Japanese, right? The doctor. Kenzo Tenma.”
Johan drops a heavy sigh, and he slips away yet again, going to sit on his bed. “Yes… My, you know a lot about me…”
“Who doesn't?”
“I know so little about you, Ryuzaki… What brings you here? So far from home.”
“Laundering,” Ryuzaki mutters, sitting at Johan's desk. He crawls into the chair, sitting with both feet planted on the seat.
Johan's head cranes. “Is that comfortable, Ryuzaki-san?”
-san.
Ryuzaki's eyes seem to light up, a deep grin on his face.
“Aww -san? Don't be so cute, Johan. We're equals here…” Ryuzaki pushes off against the desk, rocketing the wheeling chair straight in front of him.
Johan's face contorts; it's a mixture of intrigue and annoyance. It's a pretty concoction, one Johan's good with masking.
“Just call me Ryuzaki,” the brunette leans in close again. Eyes deadlocked with Johan's.
The cell door flies open, and men in thick, dark suits step forward. Ryuzaki sighs, standing immediately. He walks over, sparing Johan one final glance. “Bye, Johan.”
“Goodbye, Ryuzaki.”
—
His cellmate left him with more questions than answers. The man was impulsive, wild, playful. It was all so crafted, crafted as if the man wanted Johan to crack. To crack on him specifically. He wants to be told off, wants to push Johan to the edge. And somehow, he had no idea how to feel about it. Not yet, at least.
He was picked up by men in suits, not armoured officers, the way he was. His cellmate was surely lying.
If anything, he seemed like the kind of guy the detective would send to push him off the edge. To test his limits.
The television clicks, and Johan's eyes flicker to it. An “L” covers the screen.
“Johan.”
He stands, “Detective.”
“First impressions?”
Johan glances around the room. “I have no opinion…”
“Noted. I'll be keeping a close eye on you two.”
Johan cuts the silence, “Does he work for you?”
“Your cellmate?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
Something rises up out of Johan.
“Where are you, detective?”
“Tokyo.”
Anger.
“Why are you so far away from me. If you want to test me. Come here. Test me.” Johan snaps bitterly, his face as cold as ice, his stare wild and narrowed. He knocks over his desk chair, marching straight up to the television.
Lawliet's breath catches in his lungs.
“Afraid?” Johan asks. “You hide so much of yourself… Trying to protect you from the world. You hide your voice, gender, name… Are you afraid of something?” He continues, “I don't know a single detective that wouldn't want the claim, the spotlight. Not you… You hide yourself like vermin. And you want me to respect you? Then you bring this lunatic here to what?”
Lawliet's quiet, heart steady, pumping against his bones.
“What do you want me to do? Hurt him? Would that make you feel better? Is it an order? Is it what you want? Does that prove something to you? You know what I can do. So what is it? Want me to do something to him?” Johan spits.
“What is your wish, detective?”
A beat of silence takes the room.
“Forget me.”
The television shuts off, and nothing but bitter rage stills Johan. He stands, as quiet and deadly as a mouse, and impulsive rage is ticking in him.
This detective wants to be rid of him.
He'll make him stay.
—
Night falls, and his first night with his cellmate begins. Johan sits on his bed, back against the wall, facing his cellmate with a book in his hand. One barely read, as his true intention was across the room. Ryuzaki fidgeted like a sugar-pumped child, switching between the notebook he had before him, a book, and a Rubik's Cube.
Such a peculiar man. He sat hunched over, humming, rocking like things were a playpen.
Johan stands, a dark haze over his eyes.
He steps over to Ryuzaki's side, kneeling on the floor next to his bed.
“Hm?” Ryuzaki turns, his thumb pressed against his lips. “Johan.” He hums.
Johan smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. His head cranes, “Do you think L is watching me right now?”
Ryuzaki's eyes widen.
Time freezes.
Just what was Johan playing at?
Was he judging Ryuzaki's character? Was he testing to see if he'd lie? And if he did, what then?
Ryuzaki leans down, staring into those widened, blown-out, psychotic eyes. “Who?”
He places his chess piece.
Testing the waters with a lie.
Pale blues narrow. “Your boss…” he hisses it.
“No detective is the boss of me,” Ryuzaki mutters.
“So you do know him. The detective.”
“Have no idea what you're saying.”
“Alright then.” Johan barks. He leans forward, pushing towards him, their noses mere inches apart. “How closely do you think he's watching us?”
Ryuzaki's eyes widen, gaze slipping to his lips. Johan catches it.
His eyes flicker to Ryuzaki's. The worn ravenette stares intently. He slips another gaze towards Johan's lips, letting it linger before flicking straight to those blue eyes.
Johan cranes his head.
What does that detective want?
What does he gain from this?
“Do you think… I'll hurt you?” Johan murmurs.
He knows the answer.
Ryuzaki believes–
“I want you to.”
A response he's never heard before.
Slender legs come falling on either side of Johan, as Ryuzaki sits normally, trapping him between them.
Johan stares.
He's bewitched men before.
Never has he done anything with them. Gender matters not to an endless bottomless pit. It spares none, swallows up all.
Still, he was tied to the culture he grew up in.
“What would you do for me?” Johan leans back, sitting on the floor, gaining space from him.
Ryuzaki hums comedically, leaning and dropping his head back. “Dunno… What do you want?”
“A friend.”
Ryuzaki looks over at him. Johan's demeanor changed. It was this plastic, perfect angel, with a sweet, tender smile. And it scared him, because it really worked.
Ryuzaki didn't know what overcame him.
He didn't realize it until he was on his hands and knees on the floor, crawling over Johan, and clamping his teeth together.
He pulls the blond into a deep kiss, hands planted on the floor, need burning off his body. He comes to, pulling away seconds after they connected, his breath heavy.
Johan pants, the sound airy, weak. He stares at Ryuzaki, swallowing down a deep lump.
“Sorry,” Ryuzaki snickers. “I'm not usually like this.” It's sarcastic in nature.
Johan's bewildered.
“No, you're…” But the words fail him.
For once.
Johan doesn't know what to do.
What action plan should he do next? What calculating move? His brain freezes up.
He should be doing something.
He should milk Ryuzaki.
He should.
He should.
He…
Johan's breath starts to pick up. His eyes were growing sensitive out of nowhere. The ravenette notices the change, eyes wide, intrigue bellowing in him.
Johan struggles to find words; a small stammer flees from him. “Th– I…”
It was the most uncomposed Lawliet had ever seen Johan.
In Johan's mind, a plethora of thoughts seize his body, a threat brimming. A weakness overcomes him.
What should he do to Ryuzaki?
What should he do?
What should–
Those cold lips meet his again, forcing him out of the whirlwind that held him. His mouth was cracked open, and a warm, wet tongue slid deep into him. Johan trills, laying a cold hand against even colder skin, his palm cupping the side of Ryuzaki's neck.
The man takes control of the kiss, and the blond sits back, following every whim. Their tongues dance in his mouth, hot, wet, and sweetness drools out of their mess. Ryuzaki tastes of sweets. Candy, cake, sugar.
They break, and Johan's face is still so unreal. It's painfully soft, painfully afraid, painfully meek. He opened his eyes, and they were glossy, wet, his blues not so pale anymore, but warm like the summer sun. His hand shakes against his neck.
“Johan?” Ryuzaki asks.
Silent tears dribble down his face; his head weighs down.
Ryuzaki reaches, his thumb holding Johan by the chin, bringing his face back up. His eyes haze over in admiration, desire still dancing about Ryuzaki's face.
He didn't know this monster could cry.
This wasn't Johan.
Was this the state Tenma described?
It was sweet. Cute, vulnerable, delicate. The same as any bright-eyed young man would. The face of a law student making connections everywhere he went. The face of someone innocent.
If he was being played.
He'd accept it.
Ryuzaki kisses Johan's lips yet again, just in time for the soft sniffle Johan makes. “Since meeting me, you've been at a loss, Johan.”
Icy eyes finally meet obsidian ones.
“You know, this girly look really suits you,” his monotone voice gruffs. “It's sweet… Sweet like cake.” Ryuzaki pulls him in, kitten licking sweet pink lips.
A soft cry falls from his lips.
Johan gazes so meekly.
“Don't know what to do?” Ryuzaki mumbles. He licks his lips again, enjoying the smooth curve over his taste buds. “Don't want control?”
Those are the words that speak to him. Johan struggles. With that word, he watches a haze blind those sweet eyes.
“Y'know, I could teach you a thing or two.” Ryuzaki cups Johan's cheeks. “Just let me.” That tongue comes out again, asking to be sucked.
An electric jolt flies through him. As he cranes his head, quickly his mature returns to him. An empty stare shapes Johan.
Johan leans forward, dragging teeth over that muscle; it was a soft tug, one that he’d no pain but every threat.
He pulls back after Ryuzaki hisses.
“What about this is a good idea?” Those tears dry like stains on his cheek. “Ryuzaki.”
Ryuzaki leans his forehead against Johan's, and in an instant, he can feel how hot it is against his.
“Do you have to think about this so hard?”
“The detective planted you here for this reason.”
Ryuzaki sighs, “Stop talking about him.”
“Him?” Johan chimes, “L is male?”
Ryuzaki groans. He reaches for Johan's chin again, pulling his lips open and stuffing his tongue inside again.
Their kiss is snappy this time, as Johan sucks and slurps him with a fiesty, angry passion. Ryuzaki moans, sighs, huffs, all too vocal in this new kiss. This persona lets him relax, and quickly, the ravenette is finding out why he lies so much.
His true desires are as twisted as any criminal's.
Johan eased down to the floor by Ryuzaki, as his tongue pops out of his mouth. “Ryuzaki,” he calls.
It's deep in his eyes that he sees that softness from before struggle to the surface.
“Your identity confuses you,” Ryuzaki mutters. “That much I can tell.”
Johan's eyes narrowed like daggers.
Ryuzaki leans back, still straddling Johan's lap.
“Don't think about that anymore,” he pulls his shirt off his scrawny, pale, bony body. His ribcage pokes through the skin. “You lost. There's nothing you can ever do. You won't be leaving prison. You can’t get out on good behavior… You're stuck here… There's no hole you can think your way out of.”
“Ryuzaki,” Johan cries.
“You're tame, Johan. Checkmate,” he bites.
Johan runs a hand up his stomach. The blonde's hand is cold, much like his skin. It's a mixture of two nihilistic, cold beings feeling and touching each other.
“Let go,” the black-eyed man whispers.
Johan's eyes shut like a vice, his head falling back.
So many snappy comebacks burn at his throat. But they drown under the heat. And soon, “haah…” under the friction.
Ryuzaki rocks back and forth on Johan, grinding down on his lap. Johan gasps, his sounds quiet, small. His hands grip onto Ryuzaki's ass, following him as he grinds smooth circles. His dick hardens, eyes hazing over underneath thick lashes.
Johan's figured it out.
He gave himself away.
But he loses himself, mind going blank, body taking over. A human feeling he's not used to. One that sparks passionate heat up his arms, up his body.
Detective.
Ryuzaki is you, isn’t it?
A fervent, possessive hand shoots up, grabbing Ryuzaki by the neck and pulling his forehead against his. His freehand grips his bony hip. The detective grunts, “nnhh,” before shuffling around, laying his thin legs between Johan's and bucking their hips together.
They frolic, restrained by clothes, as Johan grows relentless. He pulls Ryuzaki down, nipping and sucking his lips, bucking up into him. He smells how the raven's body stinks of sweets and coffee, hears his heavy, fervent breaths as they grinded on each other like animals.
An obsessive cry falls from Johan's lips, “Detective–” it's whiny in nature, and following it, Johan smashes their lips together. His grinding grows sloppy, fucking like some maniac. “De-tectivee,” he grunts.
“Johan,” Lawliet moans, trying to find space to breathe. Their kiss feels like a headlock; Johan's much stronger than him. Lawliet's underweight, bony, and weak. He's smothered in the mass murderer, and every alarm rings in his head.
His lips are wildly stolen, sucked off with a passion that leaves a red-hot sting.
Lawliet's only escape was to bury his teeth in the side of the monster's neck, holding his hips and fucking down into his fervent grinding.
It was hot, sweaty, aggressive, and they took to each other like wild animals.
Hands are everywhere, sweat dribbles off them. These two cold people now burned to each other’s touch.
“uhah- ich kommee,” Johan moans, gripping chunks of thick black hair.
“Come– come,” Lawliet commands, biting the blonde's lip.
And with a dangerous wave, “aaughk–” the murderer spills, fireworks firing in his mind. He groans for a while, his come heavy, intense, suffocating like a blanket, shooting messy ropes all over their hips. As he comes, he cups Lawliet's face in a vice, keeping him there, keeping him to watch his head fall, ogling at his exposed neck, watching the ecstasy steal his lungs.
He comes to, and Lawliet leans, biting the blonde's lip once again. He hugs it until it springs back into place, and messy, glossy, blue eyes stare blindly.
Lawliet pants, feeling Johan soften.
He mutters, “Did you cum?”
Lawliet glances away.
“Are you hard?” Johan bucks up into him, feeling the pressure of Lawliet's balls and soft penis. “Can't?” he asks. “Is it me?”
“No. Just can't,” Lawliet hums.
The German gestures to his face. “You don't sleep, detective. Your mouth tastes like candy. You're all bones. That's why.”
“I work,” Lawliet rests his forehead against the blonde.
“Is this work? Or is it pleasure?” He runs seductive hands through his thick, black strands. “You could stand to rest.”
“I'm small, down there,” Lawliet confesses. He knows he shouldn't. “It wouldn't help. Sex is trivial.”
“How long have you been going like this?”
Don't trust him.
“Since I was small.”
“I understand…”
Their eyes meet, obsidian to ice.
Lawliet slides off Johan, and the blonde pulls himself off the ground. He gazes at his ruined uniform, hissing in annoyance.
“I've crossed a line.” Lawliet murmurs.
The blonde looks over, ogling the spotty mess he sprayed all over Lawliet's pants.
He chuckles, “Isn't that what you wanted, detective?”
syn: august has kinky desires hes not sure you'd accept. but then again, he can't remember the last time you ever judged him. [TDLR; f!reader pegs him while activating her jinki ]
tags: pegging, orgy, spitroasting, cunnilingus fem!recieving, cream pie, rough play, deep-throating, throat-fucking, face-fucking, voyeurism, masturbation, sex tape, inappropriate use of jinki, established relationship, reader is implied to be black, ts is actually rlly cute n sexy, faintly proofread
an: august stilza pegging... (please comment on my works i rlly appreciate the interactions 🥹)
You and August have been dating for a few years now. And with any steady relationship, you were growing into the mundane, enjoying life with each other as company. Your relationship was a far cry from when you first got together, as both of you were rambunctious scum who respected nothing but good peeps and good vibes. But you've begun to shimmer down now, still as wild and persuasive as a firecracker, but not as much as before.
With this came soft insecurity from the blond. Maybe he was boring you? Or was he overwhelming you? Slowly, he felt subtle shame overtake his wild desires.
Your daily routine has been set.
You'd wake up next to him (he who drools and snores). Then push through a mess of fabric and markers, and eat breakfast with him before you both part to your respective jobs. Then, you return, hang out with friends, and work in August's room while he jams. All before ending the night in his warm arms.
You two lived very independent lives. But he was always your joy. Being enveloped in his slanky, clingy body was the thing you looked forward to most. A constant you're confident will never change.
So imagine your surprise when August opens up to you about a hidden desire. One set to knock the dust off the shelves.
Here you are, laying down in August's messy room, wearing pajama shorts and a braless tank top. You tended to your jinki on his bed, of which was a mirror, with your back turned to him. As behind you, August blasted his rock music, as he finished up some quick touches to his work. He hopped and stitched with a fury, his loud voice pattling on and on and on.
You paid it no mind, it was like second nature at this point, as you cleaned and held your jinki, whispering your daily positive affirmations into it– and subsequently you– as you stated into your reflection in the hand held mirror. Honestly it was a miracle you somehow found a clean spot between his laundry, markers, and sketch books to lay down on.
Suddenly, the music comes to a halt, as August jumps up, his rolling chair flying, and with it he holds up a giant Cleaner's coat.
“Taadah!” He shouts.
You turn eagerly, grinning at him, “Oou’ good job bae!” you clap. “Another banger from the greatest.”
Even the pajamas you wore right now were made by August. He dressed you in everything, every style. As if you were his little doll; and the extra care made your Jinki stronger.
He turns it to you, his smile beaming. “Ohoho! Choir's spoken,” he sticks his tongue out provocatively, laying the coat down on his desk. “Follo better kick straight ass in this thing! It’s fawkin’ boomb!” He screeches sing-songly, hopping up and down. “Howdya like it! Gotta tell me again,” he begs, leaning down to you, getting eye level.
Your eyes meet, and you watch as his pretty eyes trail down to your lips, distracted to a word you're saying. “Mh'hehe, you already know I love it. The stitch work is sooo sexy… I wonder who made it…” You bite your lip, twirling hair between your fingers. “I'd give a guy like that my contact,” you reach and drag your hand down his chest, perversely giggling.
“Mh’ well I better hide this guy from you,” The poor coat is long forgotten, as August sets passionate sights on you, each hand of his caging you down to the bed, his breath heavy, body looming over you. “I'm the jealous type,” and in seconds, he wraps wild hands around you, “Kaah!” And smothers you into the bed.
“Fu– Auggie!” You squealed as he attacks your neck with kisses.
“All mine- All mine all mine!” He fights, crawling under the covers with you, only to slap his thick, heavy leg over yours, straddling your body as he cups your head.
“Auggie!” You fight beneath him, going to squirm onto your knees, now kneeling on the sheets as you reach for the head board.
“Nooo!” He mounts behind you, his hips flushed to your ass, each of those strong, big hands on your hips.
You gasp, “Oh my-” the touch sending signals to your brain.
He, for once, is oblivious, simply sighing and groaning as he slumps over you, wrapping arms around your waist and resting his chin against your neck. “Oohh I missed you,” he whines, taking a deep sniff.
“Euh– Auggie,” and there goes your libido, as he sniffs playfully like a dog.
“Oh I missed-missed-missed you,” he murmurs.
“Unt-unt, call your taxi.”
“Noooo!”
“You're going to bed, aug” you lean up a little, supporting all of his doggish weight as you reach behind and tug on his goggles.
“Nooo– noooo,” August whines, throwing himself yet again onto you, as you two slip back into the mattress. You're laid flat against the sheets. He rises off you, now straddling your legs in this position, his hands separating. On to drag seductively down your back, and the other to give your ass a nonflattering squeeze.
Your face burns hot, softly gazing back at him.
You couldn't remember the last time you two had sex.
Your heart flutters.
You catch wind of his face, its glossy with desire, as his hands fall back to his sides, staring at you with hunger. You slip your legs from underneath him, slowly, and tantalizingly rising upright. You turn to face him, running hands down your breasts and sides, cracking your legs open with a bowed arch.
He pants like a dog, licking his bottom lip, shifting where he sat.
But then,
Oddly….
August looks away, a shy hand gripping his neck. He stares at the messy floor, his warm cheeks seeming to pale.
Your legs shut, face red.
“Kotik,” August calls out to you, a tender pet name, his tone soft and low. He looks to the space between you and him, his face growing redder by the second.
Your worry dissipates, suddenly a hunger springs you into action.
You know that look!
You spring forward, grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him. “What is it! What is it! Oooh! You want something real dirty today huh, bae,” you bark. “You ‘barrassed?”
His blush only worsens. “Hold ont–”
It's your turn to handle him, as you pin him down, pulling his goggles off, sneaking those gloves off with it. He shudders, biting his lip hard.
“What's it, bae?” You giggled, as you made quick work of his lanyard and headphones.
“Well… You know… Yesterday night you were touching up on my ass,” He barks.
“Yes, and did,” you mutter as you unzip his jumper, and he aids you with getting the straps off his shoulders.
“Sooo…. After that… I went to the bathroom and cleaned up down there… But when I came back, you went to bed!” He barks. You gasp, face burning red, you unclasp his belt now, getting a good view of the half hard horse in his pants.
You're aching with anticipation. “Oh! I'm sorry, auggie! Didn't mean tooo…”
He huffs, “Got me all worked up for nothing!”
You laugh and climb off him, he snickers with you, and pulls off the rest of his jumper, leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt. “‘M sorry love,” you whine, pecking his cheek as he lands back in bed.
He giggles with you, stealing your lips in a loving, hearty smack. You sigh pleasantly, running your hands through his blond curls. He grabs the end of your t-shirt, pulling it over your head and springing your titties free. His greedy hands immediately grope them up, groaning out, “Ooh yeah,” he bites his lips. “My pretty thangs’.”
You chuckled, staring deep into his eyes as you drew your tongue over your teeth. And with a drawl, you whine out, “Augusttt…”
“Ough! Ah! I'm hard!” He screams.
“Shhppft– August!” You cackled, pushing him right back down to the bed. “Youre so stupid,” you laugh, wiping stray tears from your eyes. “Wanna make me wet or make me laugh? Pick one.”
“Mehh- Both, kotik.” He suddenly claps his hands. “Baby- Baby- baby!”
“Yes,” you mumble, half listening as you pull up his shirt, lulling out your tongue and drawing a stripe up his snail trail.
“Wh– Wait I– I want to,” he stammers, clamming up.
You halt, eyebrows folding in concern.
“Oh I just… Want to– Okay. Today… Let's play in my ass today- Kay? If you–”
“I want to.”
“Right! Settles that! Just this… Weeeell this next part I…”
“Baby you know I wont judge you.”
“Right!”
“Alright then get it out already, aug!”
“Fuck! Need'ya to use your jinki on me. Strap me down with your clones! Don’ care no’ moa!”
You burst with a guffaw, “Whaaat?”
“Fuck, pupsik! Need it rough-rough-rough! Treat me like scum!” he's screaming at the top of his lungs, pulling at his blonde strands as if it'll be the death of him. “Break me like the trash beasts you fight! I'm fien’ing for it! Baaabe!”
Your ears are ringing by the time he finishes his confession. He pants, with a red face and a sweaty forehead, humiliation plaguing the air surrounding him. He gulps, his brows pursed in distress.
“Damn, bae. You're hungry.” You gasp, giggling a little.
He slaps embarrassed hands over his face.
“Is it because of that beast the raiders dropped here? Seeing me fight it got you all worked up huh?” Your hands slip to palm his massive cock, and he moans out, bucking into the touch. He hardens steadily underneath your warm touch, it's an addictive feeling.
“So you want me to–Rough you up bae?”
“Rough you up bae?”
August is hearing you double, with that alone, he knows his wish is fulfilled. He jumps with a start, popping his eyes out to the world. And before him you duplicate into two clones, your Jinki, the handheld mirror, in hand.
He gasps, clutching nervous hands over his body. “Oh my!” He barks, clamping his legs closed.
You and your duplicate split into two more clones, totaling four perfect mirrors of you all couched around him like he's prey. He's lost track of the original, his eyes flickering from that crazed look in their eyes to the four sets of breasts circling around him. If he was half-hard before, he now stands totally erect. His heavy cock comes to stand but its weight forces it to lean a little.
“I'm so horny,” he shouts, all before the four of you spring into action. The first clone rips the shirt off him, the second ripping his boxers off like they meant nothing. “Waah-ha!” August squeaks. Once the clothes are off, the second pulls him to the edge of the bed by his arms. The duplicate picks him up by his shoulders, locking them both so he couldn't reach. Your other two each grab a thigh of his, forcing his legs up and holding them suspended in the air.
“Wah– aah!” He cries suddenly, his pretty cock leaking all over itself. You help the poor heavy thing and push it up against his belly, how it slaps tantalizingly.
You want to ride him so bad.
With a single glare at your duplicates, the plan changes.
“Who-whoaa,” August is pulled off the bed, his steps clumsy before he's thrusted back onto it, only this time, his feet face the end of the bed. Your duplicate grabs him by the ankles, pulling him all the way down until his ass meets her hips. The second duplicate grabs his wrists, collecting them as she straddles his face, wet fussy hovering over his sights.
“Fuck! Fuck!” August bucks up into nothing, his tongue comes flying out. Without warning, he buries his face into it. Forcing you to moan and arch forward.
You clamor into the draw you were fishing in, trying to retrieve the strap and lube. “Ah– fuck Auggie wait,” you call out, but he’s relentless on your duplicates clit. Your jinki sends all sensations straight to your main body. You lean forward against the drawer, eye lids falling as your moans fly out from you four, each to their own unique sound.
“So horny– so horny!” August barks like a wild man
“Urgh– get him.” You mutter.
Your duplicate rises up off him, despite this, he nearly breaks his head flying to keep your pussy. Unfortunately for him, your spare duplicate, the third, comes rushing in, gripping his hair by the root in chunks. “Augffuck-! No fair!” He whines. You pull harder, forcing his head back onto the bed.
You giggled as you slipped the strap on over your panties, your thick cock ready for use. You walked over to your little scene, giggling as you swapped out with yourself, now standing in between his legs. They wrap around you with a passion.
“So you're the original, huh!” He barks.
“Wouldn't wanna miss this bussy for the world,” you purr.
“Byahaa–! Bussy!” He cracks up.
“Alright boy, relax,” your duplicate calls, rolling her eyes.
The final duplicate slots into place, straddling August, her back touching your breasts, hole rubbing against the tip of his cock. You moan, head fogging up.
“Kotik!” August barks ferally, “Get the camera!”
Your spare duplicate releases his hair, and in an instant, his mouth flies straight to your clitoris, slurping up your folds, dragging and flicking his tongue over your clit like it was his life line.
Your spare duplicate drops to his desk chair, sitting contently with the camerastimulationsecording the scene from the desk. Her legs cracked open, hands flying to touch herself to this.
All of the varying stimuli was flooding in.
All at once you were receiving, masturbating, and now, your other duplicate sinks into August, taking all of his girth deep, bottoming out as his tip kissed your cervix.
You gasped out, eyes flying behind your lashes, as you gripped his thighs intensely. Lost in the sauce, your lubed cock met his lubed hole, slipping right in with no effort. His walls were soft and gummy, a clear sign he must have been playing in here mere minutes after dinner.
Was that why he left early and ate nothing?
You bottomed out inside him, your plastic tip rubbing up against his prostate, as you all started a fervent pace.
Firstly, your duplicate sat all the way down on August's greedy face, his hands flying to your thighs for purchase. Secondly, your duplicate began to ride him, fucking down into his thickness with a passion. His hot girth stretched your hymen out sore, pressing all against your swollen clitorus. Thirdly, your spare plunged sweaty, hot fingers into her pussy, palm slapping against her slit for every fuck, breathing heavy, so sure the footage would be too shaky.
All of this merged into one on your real body, as your legs buckled and shook per every thrust. You were so loud, you were sure of it, and on top of that, for once August was quiet.
His mewls were drowned out by your wetness, but they echoed their loud vibrations into your body. For every gasp or lick, a wanton whine would fall out of him, “mmhfa-!! aaugh! ahh,” moaning as if he had gone to heaven.
His ass was fucked fervently, your thrusts hard ans frantic, frantic as if you had a score to settle. A point to prove. Maybe it was payback for all the times he fucked your backdoor silly, all the times he acted like a rapid animal. And boy did his body love it.
His back arched off the bed, only for you to shove it back down, and forcing his legs to fly and twitch. His toes clenched and released, body curling up and spasming in overstimulation. His grip on your thighs were tight, nails buried into your flesh, claw marks trailing.
It got to a point so intense that the blond dropped his head, mind losing all senses but to moan and cry out. “Fuuuh– augk!! Mmhah!” He sobbed, his hips starting to fly, spamming thrusts up into your hot pussy, and at the same time, fucking himself against your strap.
Your duplicate straddling his face moves, now fucking her clit against his nose, his tongue, uselessly tired, stuck out and taking the relentless face-fuck. You could feel his cock pulse and twitch, his walls gripping your strap with every desire to milk it.
You grip his hips hard, spotting him as you match his thrusts upwards, hitting him with passion.
“Gonna cum–!!” You shout, oddly enough, you swore you said it. But instead, the voice echoed from behind the camera. Your mind was running stupid, and subsequently, your thrusts too.
With a final thrust, ecstasy overtakes you, “Uhhn–gh!” Your body clams up, sparks flying as all four of you orgasm at the same time. Sending a heavy, thick blanket over you. Too engrossed in your own, you miss how thick, endless ropes spray all in your walls, stuffing you full with a milky cream pie, as it spurts out of your tightness.
You can’t keep up with it anymore, struggling to overcome your high, your duplicates fade one by one. The first to go was the one straddling August's face. He gasps for air, his loud pants and whines take up, “guuhhg– aaahh!! nghhh.” Sweat dribbles down his body.
The second, was the one holding the camera, poor thing too fucked out to remember to turn it off, left it running, fliming them even still.
The final was the one wrapped around his pretty cock. And once she disappeared, her cream pie came bursting out of your pussy, making a thick, wet mess in your underwear.
“Ffuuc– aahh,” you groan out, knees locking. Your weight begins to sway, but August catches you, his thick, muscular legs catch around your waist and pull you forward, slumping your body onto his belly. The strap is forced into one final thrust, one that catches him off guard, seed spilling at the sensation.
“Mmhffg,” he whines, toes clenching.
He looks down, suddenly aware of how sticky and sweaty he is everywhere, feeling disgusting from fluids. “ko–kotik,” he croaks with a sore voice. He gazes at you, and to no surprise you're out cold, drool dribbling from your lips.
His stomach cramps around your strap. He whines again, “pupsiiii.” Still no budge.
The support sighs, spreading his legs out wide and loosening around you, he hoists himself up, walls twitching in sensitively as he backs off sweet and slow, his cock spilling from the sensation. He flops awkwardly back against the bed when he's finally free from being beneath you and your strap, but he quickly remembers he can't leave you there.
“Damn, kotik!! We went too hard,” he shouts, pulling regretfully at his hair.
Now that the ecstacy has faded, his nose, lips, and lower back is bruised, while his calves and shoulders ache with fury. He nudges you again, and finally, you look to come to.
“Pupsi--pupsi,” he calls, petting your head.
“Mmffhh- augh,” you groan.
He beckons you sweetly, “pupsi c’mere.”
You meekly rise, body tingling. You crawl forward, with his hands wrapped tightly underneath your shoulders, hoisting you up straight into his arms.
He quickly discovers that sitting on his ass directly was not a good idea– “Faah!” And so, he fervently lays you on your side.
But laying on your side is not a good idea either, “owwuh!! auggie!”
So the both of you are left sleeping ass up tonight.
The lamp shuts off, covers pulled up over you both, laid bellies down, still just as sweaty and disgusting as before. You giggle to each other underneath the covers like grimy school children.
“snrrk– pfehehe.. night– hehe– nighttt,” August giggles.
“Pfftttt– g’night, auggie.”
Safe to say, you weren't any help on your next shift. Poor August had to deal with teasing from Semiu all day. She's too much of an expert to miss his peculiar nose bruise.
And even more so, the two of you weren't expecting a round two so soon.
A little under a week from the last vacation, you decided you needed a little more.
After bewitching August, you got him just how you wanted.
The blond was curled provocatively on the bed. He was naked, pretty pink skin flush and pale, complimenting the long pale hair that flowed down his back. He was laid on his side, propped up with his right elbow. His legs curled up and out of the way from his ass. His calves lent off the bed, back of his ankles wrapped around your legs; as either you or your clone stood against him with a strap on, rubbing your cock against his slicked hole.
And in front of him was another you, this one pet and held his head, bringing your cock towards his hot mouth.
“suck it Auggie,” you whisper. He shivers all over. “c'mon pretty boy…”
He was pulled to the edge in a way that his ass was lined off the edge to meet your strap, and his head was lined up to the other edge so his lips could meet you without picking up his head.
He parts his lips softly, pulling the strap to his mouth, lips curling around the thick plastic. “mmffghh,” he stares up with sweet, glossy eyes, his hard cock leaking everywhere. Your hands pulled hair away from his face, holding in it serene chunks as you thrusted slowly into his throat. He moans around the plastic, gripping the bedsheets with a trembling form.
He feels your other strap plunge inside him, nice and slow, and he chokes a little, gasping before calming, releasing a struggling breath out of his nose. You push in at the same time, bottoming out in his mouth and ass in unison.
August feels the penetration, a long thick cock in his throat and another in his ass, his ass flutters around it, dick twitching, eyes briefly rolling back.
And in unison, you both pull tantalizingly out, serene and slow. His walls tug, toes clenching vice. His eyes pop open, pleading up at you. The dangerous stare reads, “hurry. Or i might blow.”
In an instant, you pick up to a crushing speed, no longer in unison, your face fucking times itself opposite to your pegging, so just as one fucks out, the other plunges in.
August chokes and whines, beginning to squirm just as he always does, you restrain his little head, placing a tender palm on his shoulder, the other a fire grip on his hip. His back arches, his loudly sensitive body twitching everywhere it can, thick moans muffled disgustingly, “chhukknn--mmhhcch–mmffh,” he wantons, losing his mind.
You fill his throat full, he feels his muscles stretch and release over and over, your tip head bumping his throat in places nothing should ever stimulate. His whole body shudders, pressure blinding him with overstimulated tears. Just as his throat is released, his ass gets stuffed. Your thrusts are smacking, thick and hard, his ass claps loudly around you, welcoming and erotic, pulling and tugging around your plastic, stretching his ass tart and ramming straight against his prostate.
Fire sparks up his ass, tickling his poor stomach, igniting jolts up his brain and straight to his fucked out brain. You slip right out of him completely, and he coughs and coaks, his mind planting back on the ground after his endless bliss. Your thrusts even come to an annoyingly slow place, suffocating his budding rise to orgasm.
He whines, “S-stopp! What givvess,” he's frustrated, thick blonde brows furrowed heavy over his eyes. “C’moon, I need m-more,” the wild man fucks himself down onto your strap, walls greedy and welcoming.
You giggled, running your free tip against his mouth. “Give me a proper suck.” You slam hard into him once, his hold body jolts with urgency.
“Uhhffg!” August cries, taking a sloppy hand to grab your base. You pull out of his sweet ass, and the blonde rolls onto his back, leaning the back of his head off the bed, blonde strands tickling against your leg. He rolls his tongue out, staring with an erotic glare. He runs a seductive hand down his chest, reaching straight for his own cock, giving it a loving squeeze.
“Like this kotik,” he pulls a stripe up the tip.
“Fuckk… Upside down wit' it?” You guffaw.
He hums and chuckles. “Watch me, dollface,” August snickers. He pulls you into his mouth, sucking beautifully around the tip, slurping it securely. He pumps his hand down the rest of his shaft as he takes more in, fisting you as if it were real.
“Mmfuck,” you moan. It was lewd, looking at his precarious position, sprawled out all sexy, his soft pale skin glowing in the dim lamp light, and the erotic sight that was the imprint of your cock against the skin of his throat.
Your pussy was dribbling all in your panties, a nasty wet mess that August could smell and see.
“Good boy,” you moan, rewarding him with your other strap finding his sweet ass again.
You slide in slowly, but you quickly don’t keep the pace. Your hips come cracking down on him, slamming him hard enough to fuck his mouth down on your other strap.
He makes a muffled squeak, wrapping tight, thick legs around your body, ankles bowed like a ballerina, his back arching off the bed.
The pretty blonde can only grip onto your thigh as you dicked him into oblivion, blood rushing to his head even quicker from sucking you upside-down. His free hand goes and tug at his tip, all before succumbing and beating his shit hard, hard enough for a slick slapping, that wasn't his ass, to milk the air.
His walls pulsed and fluttered around you, his choking grower ever more common– he was going to come.
With one final shocking thrust, August sprays into the air, shooting waves of ropes up onto himself until his belly is coated in a thick, milky snow.
You pull out of his throat quickly, catching the end chokes and wails as he rides his high, “mmchaah– aughhchh– aahh!” And boy, is your boyfriend loud, still gripping and loving on his cock until the end.
When you pull out he gives himself the last tug, before picking his head up and flopping out on the bed. “Fahh– auhh… k-kotikk,” he whines, his breaths heavy.
“Fuckk I wish I recorded that,” you cry to yourself relinquishing your clone and crawling into bed.
He notices quickly, “fhh– the clone,” his voice is hoarse, “the real you waz'h tha…” he gulps.
You giggle, patting his tired little chest, “mmhm I was fucking your throat, baby.”
He clenches his eyes tight, “sooo hottt…” And with that, his lazy little cock stands up again.
You giggle, laying next to him, laying your head against his shoulder, your forehead resting against his neck. You reach down his body and grab his dick, collecting his cum all on your fingers and pump him lazily.
“Mmhm, think so?” You mumble sweetly.
He starts to fuck up into your hand, his breath heavy, “mm'yea-shh,” he mumbles. “tiredd…”
You drop his cock, he whines and bucks forward. “go to sleep, bae,” you whisper.
“Nooo– wait gotta blow this load firstttt,” he mumbles. “Just hold mee,” he whines pathetically.
You grab his cock again, “show me how you fuck me.” Your grip is firm.
“ohh-fuck yeah,” he slams lazy, stuttering hips into your palm, biting down on his lip hard. He's not nearly as fast as he is when he's normally fucking you, showing his fatigue. But he too had a point to prove, he needed to be dumbed down, reduced to mess by you.
And with a few more sluggish pumps, “yu–yess ahh…” he cries quietly into the air, shivering harshly. Barely anything shot out of him, the poor soul. So he groaned on nothing into the air, until his body came back down into the plush sheets.
“You're so sexy, auggie,” you purr.
He giggles, beginning to shift.
“Hold up! Let me clean you up– I'm not getting these sheets dirty again!”
syn: Homelander gets a taste of what Phenomaman has hiding inside of him.
tags: NOT proof read, electrostimulation, alien gentials, bottom homelander, top phenomaman, scoleciphobia/vermiphobia warning!
an: I know nothing abt The Boys so excuse me if I mischaracterize Homelander!!
"Is it to your... liking? Homelander?"
"unnh! aaug... nghh."
"I've been told that my genitals leave many... Unsatisfied. But... On the contrary, I have only had intercourse with human women... But today changes this..."
"mmf! augh! mm... nnghh."
"Do you enjoy the way my gentials shock your prostate gland? Is this something that is common in human males or... Is this unique to you?"
"Nnn-auh... stopp.. Fuckin' talkin'..."
Homelander pants on an inch of his life, his face buried deep within plush pillows, tears dribbling down his eyes. His forehead is swelled red with pure unadulterated anger, his fists clenched tight into a vice, one so strong you could hear the squeaking of leather gloves in the quiet air.
He laid on his stomach, his cape of pride and solitude strung about in the flithy bedsheets Phenomaman called home. He had only came over to gloat, and maybe a little out of pity for the poor depressed drunk. Never would he expected to be like this, not with this oaf. Not over simple curiosity on these gentials this clown kept moping about.
He didnt plan to get so.
So aroused.
Also didn't expect Phenomaman to have the ability to smell it.
And now he was, with a belly stretched full with a tape-worm-like gentials, all bounded into a tangled mess deep inside, being able to feel it squirm and buzz with sharp tingles of soft, buzzing electricity. The feeling washed down his brain in waves.
First it was the fear in every single buzz. The hear that it would burn. Then the relief of pleasure. And finally, that numbing, cooling after effect that made it hard to think. And for seconds, he could take his brain off the reality of whats happening.
Of the loser he's letting top him.
Letting him see him so disgustingly vulnerable. Letting such a fraud see him so weak.
"Am I satisfying you...?" He whispers it, caressing his soft, supple ass, "You are so aroused, Homelander..." Endermeant bounds in Phenomaman's voice, its clear his depression had long since faded. "It has been a pleasure to give you this embrace... To make love to such a prominent earth Hero."
But unfortunately for Homelander. He wont ever be able to forget whose topping him.
Because this fraud loves to talk.
Its only upsetting Phenomaman with how quiet Homelander was. Or at least, trying to be.
The bed creaks, as Phenomaman leans forward, throwing his massive, oxen body over Homelander, his strong, thick muscles now pressing flat against the curve of his back, watching as Phenomaman's thick, burly hands come into view, as they pin Homelander even more down into the sinking bed.
The near crushing weight is erotic, painfully so. He can feel the squeeze of pressure about his cock, and even more lovingly, his stomach is given a good and sharp pressure around the alien, flat, worm like gential inside him. His airflow was restricted minorly, giving Homelanders body the sweet taste of what defeat could feel like.
Drool tickles out from the corners of his lips, his gloved hands reaching out, half to save face, other for more purchase. But Phenomaman catches the little gloved hand, giving it a strong, secure squeeze. And shivers trickle down the blonde's spine.
"My-- g... auhh... fuck! nnghha," Homelander's akin to a broken record now, his stupid cock spitting up on itself. He's smiling now, knowing he's wrapped up in bliss. For second, the pride fades, developing into a new sense. Phenomaman was now his toy. In fact, maybe this whole thing actually went according to plan.
Phenomaman draws close, husking a perverted whisper deep into Homelander's ear. "Forgive me, my spirited comrade... But this is level of electricity is not very pleasurable to me," its pitiful how Phenomaman's voice begs to be heard. "Unfortunately, my current input is not nearly enough for me to ejaculate. To fertilize your... Male insides... If I may," he pauses, hesitant, "I... am requesting to adjust the frequency up, that I may experience arousal as well. If... If it may be in your will," all of the desire in the word pours out of Phenomaman. There's this painful wave of elation that swells up in Homelander, one that has him succumbing to the fucked grin rhat takes his face.
"No... Way." He spits it out, but Phenomaman plays it no mind.
"Please... please," Phenomaman begs deep into Homelander's ear. "Let me ejaculate." Only whimpers returned. "Very well... I will resume at this... Damping speed... If it is all that you can handle then... I must agree."
Why did he phrase it like that?
There are a few things wrong with this horrible statement. That Phenomaman's lowest level had him this much out of comission. Secondly, that he asked in a way that requires Homelander to admit how much he wants more. He was begging him. Teasing him. Leading him on to the deck of dim wits, with the play of the century.
He wants to experience more.
He needs it so badly.
Homelander finds the strength to prop his body onto his elbows, groaning and grunting under Phenomaman's weight, to which the larger leans off a little, sweat dribbling down his out of place blonde strands.
The flushness of his ass against such strong hips made his walls flutter. And every weak part of him crawled out of their hidden places, drowning in suffocatingly needy tears.
Tears of a repressed, pent, loser.
"Mm-- ple... Phenoma..." the words die in his throat. And sweetly, Phenomaman buries his lips into Homelander's neck, pecking the parts of skin that peak out from his collars, and gentle underneath the ear.
"Use your words, with... whatever courage you can muster, Homelander."
His mustache tickles and leaves his rapid heart beat in a flurry.
Homelander swallows so bitterly.
"Please-- mmhh... needa.. turn it uhp'," he stresses the last word, groaning out, dropping his head meekly.
"If I may."
With buzzing sparks those electrifying tendrils ignite, the voltage increasing. Its first blow is magnifying, forcing his walls to spasm under the sparks, sending horridly delectable spams down his toes, forcing them each to twitch to their own unruly rhythm.
"Ough-! Fuck!" Homelander thrusts back into Phenomaman's hips, enjoying the room as Phenomaman rises off him, opting to hold sweet tan hips in large burly hands.
Then comes in Phenomaman's deep, burly moans. They are hushed, needy whimpers, "Y-yes nngh... this is... ah satisfactory for-- hn, haah... me."
Homelander feels his whole body vibrate, pulsating with a fervent passion. Shocks fly to his brain, sparks in the wind, his mind cutters and forgets all, all but Phenomaman.
Phenomaman. Phenomaman. Phenomaman.
Drool ebbs down the corner of his lips, his eyes lost behind his eyelids, his voice creaking and crying out, "dur-- ahhh! mmnghhka," he grunts out so passionately, feeling the heat begin to mingle with pain. The pain keeps him alive, forces him to swallow down his pride, and flirts deliciously with the overcoming pleasure.
And without any warning, his cock spits up on itself, slinging white ropes deep into the sheets. Immediately after, overstimulation pounces on him. He reaches out again, half the mind to crawl away.
Phenomaman's burly moans trail after, "oouh-- ah-- I am a-uhh approaching," he makes out, grinding and bucking his hips down against Homelander. The blonde's face comes crashing back down into the pillows, shoving his sweet ass deep into Phenomaman's hips, his arch is beautiful, his face red and pride depleted as hes forced into another overwhelming sweet orgasm.
Homelander mewls, "Fuuh--uhck-- yess," he lets himself slip away, mind made dumb by the dopamine flooding his brain through his second orgasm. One only minutes departed from thr first. "yess--uhnh yesss," he praises.
"Mff--Unn-- Home-- Mff Land--duh," is all Phenomaman can make out before he cums, spraying a sticky, airy, mist like substance all about Homelander's sweet insides. His moans are bear-like, growling, animalistic, deep and whiney all into the blonde's sweet ear. He wraps strong arms around Homelander's shoulders, his nose buried into blond strands, taking in his stench for every deep huff.
"Oughhh-haah..." he empties himself all inside him, not sparing a single moment. He sniffs the hero continuously, burying his nose from his hair, to behind his ear, before finally deep in the blonde's neck. The sensation of nose, beard, and lips sends flutter tingles down Homelander's spine.
"Nneed... i-it'ugh," Homelander mewls.
The high comes to an end, yet Homelander finds himself still grinding ass back up against the brunette, hands on his burly biceps, chin and lips resting on the arms that hold him. Arms that hold him like a prize. There's undeniable fondness here, coating the air like a thick cloak. Homelander runs the thick muscles over his face (or in more accurate words, nuzzles Phenomaman's skin), before sighing all too wistfully into the air.
"Mh' just as predicted," he chuckles. "I suppose there is use for you here afterall."
"Did you enjoy this, my dearest." Phenomaman's voice is quiet, gullible. Afraid to hear a no.
Homelander lulls, "Mmhm... Ha... It's the best I've ever... No. You did a great job."
Phenomaman slowly retracts his gential, the long, thin muscle slips back into his body, pulling out endlessly from the blonde. Ecstasy overcomes him, his face slumping down into the sheets, his breath staggering as instinct commands him to squirm.
The sensation combined with the stickiness left behind was immeasurable.
"Please, stay still," Phenomaman mewls, unable to hide how cute he finds it. He loves it all a little too much, too much as he endlessly nuzzles his face against the blonde's head.
"So--uh... so fuckin' long," he grunts, bucking his ass back against thick hips. "Too much-haah," Homelander cries.
"I know... P-Please remain patient... Almost complete," Phenomaman grunts out, squeezing him harder.
When the last of him retracts, Homelander greets it fairwell with a welcoming squeeze, as if desperate to save the very last drop. And then, its just smooth skin and thick, plump balls flesh against the blonde's ass.
He calls out, "Whew," and then laughs, all too meticulously. "You might as well been in there forever."
"Was I good," Phenomaman near begs. "Did I please you?"
"You did... You pleased me." Homelander relishes in the awed squeak flying from the big man. "Same time tomorrow?" Homelander grins, wiggling around in Phenomaman's hold, turning to face him, chest exposed.
Phenomaman beams, "Of course! I'd be delighted to." His cheeks are a sweet, joyful pink.
Homelander falls back, arms spread, sighing yet again, "Just what I need."
Phenomaman revels, burying a possessive face on the blonde's chest.
Maybe he was wrong about this Phenomaman.
Maybe he could find something useful for him to do.
syn: in the night you're a popular pornstar streamer. in the day you're a hardworking girl pursuing her master's. what happens when the respectful, focused kid in your lectures turns out to be your top gifter [that you've been crushing on]? not only that, but reveals himself as ironfist? in short, a whole lot of crazed fucking.
tags: rough-sex, cunnilingus (m!recieving), brat-brat taming, superpowers, degradation, face-fucking, nerd lin, cocky ironfist, masturbation, a lot of plot, whump, this is fire, BARELY BETAREAD
an: I lost my soul and my will to write, and ive had this sitting in my drafts for like 4-6 months no joke...
Lin didn't know where the line of sex and love ended, not with you. For the past year and a half, he logged into your chat room, watching his favorite cam-girl work. Her name was BunnyFist, wearing his signature yellow mask, whatever lingerie you liked best for that day, and a fine collection of fake dicks.
He was curious. Twitter had all the raves for you, so he didn't check you out.
Never could he expect how enthralled he'd become with you. It was your soft skin, pretty cheeks, the way your lips pressed in pleasure, how you weren't afraid to show every angle of you, not plastic like porn, but alive, earnest. You did it for your pleasure, not caring to cultivate a plastic image.
You sponsored and reviewed toys with honesty; your work was erotic, fun, and of high quality. You tried to connect with your fans in a human way, something other streamers in your field failed to do. Or at least, not in the same kind of way you did. Lin was obsessed. Hard, horny, and obsessed. Hell, he's got your frustrated, sexy expression stuck in his head. You were magnetic, even when you were angry; you were insufferably seductive.
Every Wednesday at 10 pm, Lin showed up to support you. It started small, popping in to see your work, subscribing, and later, dropping his first donation, how you lit up at the small amount. He got hooked, wanting to spoil you. He even updated to your higher subscription service, 250$ a month for one private call per month.
Fuck.
He remembers the awkwardness of the first call. How he sat with his mic muted and video off, watching you, typing diligently while stroking himself. It was so embarrassing, it was hell. But you gave him so much grace, taking the lead, and giving him a good show (he gave you a fat tip afterward).
But he soon got comfortable with you, and you with him. You found he was funny, earnest, witty, and a relaxed natural outside of the tense aura. Hell, he treated you like an actual person; you noticed him long before he started his subscription. He was always late, yet never failed to ask how you were, no matter if you were 6 inches deep into a dragon dildo. Too cute!
You were starting to think he enjoyed watching you sobber out an answer amidst your sloppy moans.
However, you were nervous to see him upgrade to your highest subscription. You wanted to know what he sounded like. What he looked like. Only he and three others bought your service. You were an extremely popular cam girl; your price was hefty for a reason. To even attend the first private call, your manager set it up that you have to make a $500 deposit on top of the first month's rent.
A precaution to keep you safe, scare away those who couldn't afford you.
So suddenly, when sw0rdmasterLL, a loyal chatter, suddenly upgraded, your heart raced. He was rich. And now he was one of the 4 who supported and cushioned you.
Unfortunately for you, in the first three months of calls, sw0rdmasterLL completely covered himself. No microphone to ease your tension either. It's hard to read a chat while overstimulating yourself on a dragon toy, but he never burdened you. Never set off any scary alarms; most of the time, he was quiet.
You got him out of his shell 4 months into his free calls, getting him to turn on his microphone after a new round of teasing him.
And god.
Swordmaster's voice was delicious.
It was unwavering, airy, strong, deep, and charismatic.
You remember hiding your face, out of embarrassment, but also to hype him up, and he blessed you with his easy laugh.
Fuck.
A guy like him had to be…
Regardless.
He talked a lot during your time together.
Spending a good chunk of his paid 30 minutes talking to you while you're at work. Talking to you. Reassuring you as you pleasured yourself, talking you through it, commanding the way you worked, it was driving you fucking insane. Not with a voice like that, how soft yet so fucking horny he sounded.
And god help you. His moans were blissful. You were sure he never noticed, but you got so fucking passionate whenever you heard his groans. It was like he was trying to be quiet, but now and again, his mind would frenzy, and he'd release a deep, breathy grunt. It was light like the wind, but masculine, sexy.
He sent you pretty lingerie to your business address. Almost like a fetish, he loved having you wear lacey undies with nothing covering your chests, undies you were never allowed to take off. At the end of every call, you'd take it off, bringing it up to the camera and showing him how deliciously ruined your poor garment was. That's when you were able to milk the most sounds out of him.
Swordmaster was fucking hot. That's all you thought it was. After all, it was the truth. It made your job easier.
Somewhere along the way, the line blurred. Not just for you either. You knew the dangers of falling in love like this. You couldn't, not to a paying customer. But those red, warning flags were looking so green, so easily mistaken, or so easy to sin against.
The two of you got comfortable after a year, and you were chatting with Swordmaster naively in private messages. At first, it was about organizing his subscription, and then it was silly talks about studying, hobbies, gaming, and IronFist. You both adored the superhero. Lin even secured you limited figures, figures that slowly occupied the shelf behind in your setup.
You knew it was a real problem when his voice plagued your dreams. Hearing it alone, your panties were soaked. You were so eager to pounce on him in private calls that even Lin noticed how rambunctious you'd become-- only with him. He chalked it up to, "This is how you behaved with every peak-tier subscription."
Lin knew he made a lot from hero missions. He had endless savings, earning a fat stack of commissions and payment for every mission, especially when the Avengers sought out his help. So he had a lot to spare for you. He even created a "bunny" savings account, dropping 5% of his earnings into it, all to buy your shit.
It made him feel so proud whenever you opened his gifts on stream, so proud, looking in the back for any video or clip and seeing his figures. Watching you use his toys in streams. How you called out his name and welcomed him when he came into chat. He loved the way your voice lit up. The late nights, when he should have been studying, he spent talking to you in private messages or wanking himself off to you.
His body was so hard-wired that every Wednesday night, and every Tuesday (which was his usual monthly call date) night, he'd rut. Despite not seeing you every Tuesday, your private calls stayed in his system for weeks, fuelling his horny dick. Even on the Wednesdays when you couldn't work for menstrual reasons, he'd be helplessly horny, pawing at himself in your memory.
He's reminded how lucky he is to have his apartment off campus. Couldn't imagine how his poor roommates would've reacted to his antics.
You're a part of his system.
He needs you. He knows how wrong it is, you're just trying to do your job. Probably running into horrible creeps every day, trying to claim you, to keep you. He doesn't ever want you to stop being yourself, stop working. But fuck, the sweet conversations you have together, although he's aware you're just being nice-- you'd treat anyone the same way -- he feels so vulnerable afterward.
So needy. So desperate. His body reacts, and so does the unsettling lump in his heart.
So with all the guilt in the world, he shows up to every stream, every call, sending in much, just to keep feeding it.
Things were starting to get weird for both of you.
Midterms were coming up, and though at night you were a rambunctious Cam Girl, in the daytime, you were a graduate freshman pursuing your education. It was a tough balance to work, study, party, and be social too. But you learned how to master it well. You lived in an apartment off campus as well, funded by your work. It was hard work, but rewarding and satisfying for you.
You also took an international business class, a class you took unrelated to your major but out of interest, which was the biggest class your university offered. Undergrad and grad students alike. So when your mid-term arrived, you weren't surprised to get an email with your team of 5 in it, two of which had dropped out three days before, and the other simply never showed up.
Leaving you and an undergraduate student named Lin Lie.
Managing this project was going to be hard. Filling the gaps that the other three left was too much to think about, so over email, the two of you split work and sections. Not getting to the nitty gritty of the void and scheduling for the two of you to meet up at his apartment next Tuesday at 6 pm, after Lin's shift, and long before you meet with Sword Master.
It was the only day Lin said he had available. Though you'd never say yes to any sort of activities on a private call day, you were drowning in midterms. The stress of it, the hormones, all of it fell on your ovulation week.
No matter how shifty today turned, you were so eager to release some stress and shed a few tears under SwordMaster's overstimulation.
Shit. You can't think of that now.
You cleared your head.
Now, you were standing outside the campus, standing on the edge of the parking lot. It was a crisp evening, and the sun was beginning to set behind the clouds. The wind was soft and slow, a small moment of peace as a white car pulled in front of you. You looked down at it. The door opens and out steps a tall, muscular, handsome man.
He wore a dark blue hoodie, a red shirt poking just beneath, accompanied by dark wash jeans and red Converse. Your eyes followed his body as he rounded the car and approached you.
Fuck. He was handsome. Jet black hair slightly messy from his own, giant hands running through it, beautiful dark brown orbs complementing sharp, handsome mono-lids. A cute pink nose and pretty, plump lips. He was taller than you, shoulders bout as wide as a barn. And contrary to the frat boys you've seen, his lower body matched the strength of his upper.
He stammers, "Hey! You're (y/n), right?" You flinch, he continues, "Sorry, I'm late. Something came up, and t'uh-- So… How are you?"
That voice. It was smooth and unwavering, airy but masculine, deep and sexy. Strong, passionate.
A fierce gust of wind flies by, rattling his clothes and blowing late autumn leaves with it.
You flinch, gulping slowly. "Lin lie," you asked. "I'm well, thank you. How are you…"
He flinches. You didn't notice. Neither did you notice his eyes widening in shock, nor did you notice the way they shamelessly peeled down your body.
Somehow, this little undergrad had your face hot and your body squirmy, from a few simple words. You were just ovulating, that's it. And he was big and tall. Your hormones were tricking you.
"Yeah- I'm good. So uh… Ready to head over?" he asks, taking a hearty step back, gesturing to his car.
"Yep, ready," you say. He opens up the door for you, you slip inside, he shuts it, and runs to his side.
His car was clean, far cleaner than any man's you've ever been in. It smelled of aloeswood, a woody, vanilla-cedar musk with hints of black pepper. The spice, the warm scent, you clenched into your pants, leaning back into his deep with a troubled sigh.
Lin cranked up the car next to you, looking over with a hum.
"Gonna be a long day," you squeak.
He chuckles, "For sure. We got it, though. You finished your parts so quickly! You'll be done in no time."
Those compliments. They seemed so familiar. No. That fucking voice. You know that voice you swear you do.
"I'm not leaving you behind with the work, Lin," you hum, gazing over.
Your eyes meet, and he doesn't look away. He takes a sharp breath, squinting, analyzing you. His presence surrounds you, and your nails claw into your seat belt for security. Your stomach was growing warm. You look away, and he starts the car, driving off to his apartment.
The poor road sways beneath you, and his driving stays steady. You take the time to gaze over his car. You ask, "So… Lin Lie? Am I saying it right?"
"Yes… Lin Lie… You got it," he encourages.
Your face won't get any cooler at this rate. You quirk, "If you don't mind me asking, what's your ethnicity?"
He chuckles beside you, "I'm Chinese…"
Your eyes catch the dangling IronFist merch in his rearview mirror. You gasp, pointing to it, "You like IronFist! The second IronFist!" You almost shout, like a child with a special interest. "Oh- God that was really bad," the weight of your words hit you, blood rushes to your faces.
His breath hitches, then he snorts, shaking his head quietly. "Really bad."
"Super-- really bad," you mutter.
"Soo bad. I should kick you out of my car right now," he teases. "Make you walk..."
His tone is catty, and with a whirl, youre reminded of him again. You struggle,"M-Mmh, I'd deserve it."
He chuckles sweetly, "So you're an IronFist fan?"
"Fan? More like Fanatic," you gaze out the window. "He's so kind. It's my favorite thing about him."
His breath hitches, voice growing unsteady. He shudders, "I l-love that IronFist… He's a great successor…" You look over at him. Lin peers at you from the corner of his eye, his gaze narrowed. He had this sort of knowing gaze about him.
You felt tiny under that stare. Your lips parted, brows mingling into a mess. Your heart races. His tiger eyes dart away.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Your thighs press tightly.
Your palm cups your face, body leaning against the window instead- anywhere but him. You close your eyes tightly, tuning in to the sounds of the wind against the car, the road beneath the tires, and the steady, quiet music Lin had playing that you failed to notice until now.
He asks, "What do you like about IronFist… I'm a super fan myself… I've got all the merchandise."
Fuck. Listening to him with your eyes closed was worse. Your clit throbbed.
Swordmaster and Lin sounded alike.
That is what's been driving you more haywire than usual.
Your eyes popped open, your breath seemingly heaved quietly. Still.
You feel like a damn dog in heat.
You gotta stop thinking about SwordMaster.
"IronFist is just… He's cute," you chuckle.
His thumb twitches on the steering wheel, and in a strained voice, he croaks out, "That's all?" He sounded tense, airy, and strained. He even breathed out a shaggy sound, flowing it, shifting in his seat. "O-Out side of his... the kindness thing."
Awkwardness coats the air.
You don't answer, fighting back the memories of Sword Master's strained grunts.
Damn, now you're ignoring him.
"-Sorry," he huffs.
You look up.
"Eh, it's fine," you whisper.
The rest of the ride was dead quiet. He pulled into his home silently, his driving skills so steady- so skillful- so handsome. You'd be lying if you said you weren't entranced by the way his tan, large hands handled the wheel. He was so confident in driving, putting a muscular hand behind your seat to peer back as he drove.
And you couldn't look anywhere but his thick neck, his plump lips pursed in concentration. Your heart was racing.
Fuck.
You were too turned on; you were making this interaction awkward.
You slipped out of the car long before he could run around and open the door for you, trying to dust off some of that awkward tension at the root. You followed him through to the elevators, noting how grand and large the complex was. He held open his front door like a gentleman, and you stepped inside.
His apartment was beautiful. It was definitely upper middle class, but still had this humble, considerate flair. His home was decorated suavely, with jade green decor, eye-catching reds, and deep navy blues being his favorite shades. For a man, his apartment had furniture! He had a mostly wooden, calm interior, with an open space connecting the kitchen to the living room. His feng shui was amazing; the space was open, and the energy was slow and tranquil, concentrated. He has nice moody lights and lamps instead of beaming ceiling lights. It was serene, zen, with splashes of boyish tastes and posters.
You giggled, slipping off your shoes at the door and placing them on his shoe rack.
He chuckles after you, "What?"
"Your home is so cozy," you giggle.
"Sacarsm?" He asks, obviously fishing for more compliments as he walks into the space, wooden floors creaking softly behind him.
"No way," you rush, "-and you know that too." You cut cattily. You follow him to the sofa.
"What can I say," he drags out a husk, "I like my ego stroked," his voice hazes over.
You shudder, eyelids hazing over for a brief moment.
Maybe you don't want to focus. But that part of you, the cautious one, stands tall.
Lin Lie had a low sofa with a large TV over the fireplace. To the left, in the corner, was a small round bookshelf, license burned from it. That delicious scent of aloeswood was stronger here, paired with a sensible taste of sandalwood.
Your shoulders drooped in security. Lin sat across from you, on a little cushion on the floor. The coffee table between the two of you was a large, square, wide coffee table that was low to the ground. He fished out his computer and notebooks and set them down. He stood shortly after.
Lin spoke, "Make yourself at home… How about some tea, hmm?"
"Oh," you hum. "Do you have anything relaxing?"
"Mmhm, coming right up," Lin grinned.
You took the time to set up your computer on the table and look around at the environment. Right above the sofa, he has a rare IronFist poster, the one IronFist took for the 2022 Dragon Punch figure collab! You knew it for how rare it was, and cause SwordMaster got the actual figure for you.
You never knew it came with a signed poster?
The sound of a kettle pot went off, and Lin returned with a tea tray with tall, handle-less tea cups. He poured the tea aroma into the cups, handing you yours and waiting before you ever took a sip.
"Let's get to work, yeah?"
-
Work?
The two of you barely did that.
Somewhere along the way, your tea was replaced with champagne, notes were scattered across the table, and you kicked back on the sofa on a much-needed break that lasted an hour.
"You'd think that, but I swear-- On my life! Iron Fist was there, two chill cheese dogs in his hand, my ankle in the other," you barreled out a laugh. "And all I could think about is, 'Damn, I'm so glad he saved my meal! That would've been 20 dollars wasted!"
Tears streamed out of your drunk eyes, your body half slumped over Lin's shoulder, half rocking back against the sofa backrest. Lin giggled along, his feet propped up on the table, slouching into the couch. His face was a red hue from alcohol, that pink-tipped nose of his seeming to glow… And those Obsidian eyes.
"Fuck, I'm glad you weren't offended…" Lin sighed awkwardly.
"Offended? The Ironfist touched my body! I mean- who wouldn't be honored?"
"Ooh, so you like him like that, huh? (Y/n). How naughty," he grinned.
"Oh yeah? You're not the same? He's a Greek god… No- Chinese God-- No, he's a dragon personified, sneaking around in a perfect human form…" You hid your face in his shoulder.
"No-- I don't like him like that."
"Righttt… So. How'd you get that 2022 figure, Lin…" Your voice was dangerously close, dangerously sexy.
The truth of the matter. Lin had already recognized you as BunnyFist. No, he realized it back in the car. Your body, your voice, the way you laughed and spoke. Your passion for Ironfist. He spent countless hours in your streams watching you, seeing all of you, Lin already knew. But, more than that, he respected you. You were a graduate student, going to the same massive, shitty university as him. Working an exhausting job yet ace-ing your school work.
You were so awesome.
He was lucky as hell to get assigned to the same project as you. He's still in denial that any of this was happening. The thing is, you came here to work and finish this project, and so did he. Nothing else.
But now.
Now you're driving him crazy.
He dodges the question, fleeing from your intensity, "I don't have the figure."
"Really," You drag tipsy fingers up his jacked arm, staring up at him from hazed eyelashes.
"I gifted to a uh… A friend," he gulped. You squeezed his biceps; his breath was failing beneath him.
(Y/n) He gifted it to you.
He gifted it to you.
Your hand slides from his biceps to his chest. His eyes are locked on you. You were like a panther, picking on its prey. "You know, Lin," the sofa beneath you creaks as you sit upright, pressing against him and leaning your lips into his ear. Your freehand takes his cheek, caressing it with your soft finger buds.
He's hard. He's hard instantly, and he whimpers into your touch.
Your voice. You were his BunnyFist.
Suddenly, though, you stop, flopping back down away from him. "Nah… I think it's just… My mind is playing tricks on me," You sigh. He instantly hunches over, hiding his lap from view.
A strained, awkward laugh leaves him as he discards his hoodie, dropping it in his lap, flashing those gorgeous arms of his that poked out of his red undershirt. "Want more tea-- (y/n)," he stammered, reaching for the empty tea tray, "Maybe we should switch back."
Did you just make a move on him?
Or were you just friendly??
"Yeah… Break's over… We do have more shit to do," You hum.
He sighs, relief budding on his shoulders. He collects the cups when you interrupt him again. "Wait… Hold on… That's a rare ass figure, Lin. Who'd you give it to?" you ask, shuffling behind him on the couch.
He looks back, and you're stretched out. Lying on your side, head propped up on the armrest, gazing at him with interest.
"Ah… This uh… Well," he says. He can't look at you and tell you this! "This girl I like…"
"Oh," your voice is laced with disappointment. "A classmate?"
"Mm-- Yea-- Well no… She's like… Kind of like a boss to me… I'm her client-- I guess? For a project," he says. He can feel himself ache in his pants. Mentioning you always had this effect, but talking about you to you. His mind was burning, self-restraint aching in his mind.
"Whoa? Scandalous, Lin! Falling in love with your contractor! That's dangerous," you sit up with a fervor. You ask, "You like older women?"
He nods, his eyes drifting down your body, clinging to your chest. He's not sneaky, you notice, your eyes hazing over again. So you weren't alone in the chemistry. He's sitting upright too, abandoning the tea set, his lips agape in a daze. Your hands reach for the hoodie in his lap. "Lin, I'm so cold," you whisper.
Your breath is close again, and your face is near. He's staring at your lips. You're staring at his. There's no shame here anymore.
"Take it," he says, without thinking. You slip it into your lap, not even using it, hands reaching up and combing down his wild hair. He's hard. You spare a glimpse of his giant print, straining in his jeans.
Fuck. He has to be huge.
You need it really badly. You need Lin.
You couldn't describe how he overrode your systems. Maybe it was the smell of him, being in his house, his muscle, his strength-- his voice. You'd been slick in your underwear for the last ten minutes, too slick to think straight.
It was just his voice.
You didn't know what it was, but every time he spoke, your mind stopped working. He was making you so horny.
You need to hear moaning.
You need to hear him while you pleasure him.
It's so primal. So primal, you don't care anymore.
You ask, "You two aren't serious, are you?"
You need to hear Lin's voice. You need to.
Lin goes quiet for a second. "What're you doing to me, (Y/n)," he whispers.
You whine, "Need me to stop?"
Lin turns to you, grabbing your hips, drawing in closer and closer.
"No," he whispers. Lin sinks into your lips, pushing you back onto the couch, large hands running up and down your frame. Lips crashed with a needy zeal, desperately brushing and slurping. Lin's legs sank in between yours, and pressed up against your clothed clit.
"a-aah," you cried out, dragging fierce claws through his mop of black hair. He sank into your neck, licking stripes, nipping, and sucking your bones. He panted like a madman, reaching lower and fiddling with his belt.
The sight was glorious.
You ask, "I make you that horny, Lin?" You cup and caress his cheek as he looks up at you.
"mf-- need you, (y/n)," he pouted, sitting upright and sliding his jeans off. His voice went straight to your cunt, and you shot up after him, sneaking on the floor as his pants hit it. He adjusted himself in anticipation, leaning his back against the couch and spreading out his legs. You crawled between each thick, meaty thigh, palming his wet boxers.
He'd been hard for some time, too; he's drenched with you.
His length was hot, fat, and girthy already. The print hung against his right thigh, seeping into the black cloth, twitching to be free. You stroked him slowly, licking a stripe up his thigh. His breath hitches in confusion.
"Wild girl," he pants out beneath shaded eyes. He collects the back of your head, guiding you closer to his dick, "Show me…" It's a plea.
You grab his hem, he aids you with slipping off his boxers, and out pops a hot, meaty cock. His tip is a fiery red, angry and alert, just as flushed as the tip of his nose. His middle shaft is fatter than the rest of him, bulging out to return to normal at the base. He was a lengthy, heavy thing; slipped back against his stomach, too much weight to stand up on its own.
You moaned out. He was just like those dragon cocks you used, but it was real- he was warm, veiny, and real. He was gonna be a chore to get in and out, but fuck, it's exactly how you liked it.
"Big guy… Whose been feeding you?" you whisper, taking a firm grip on his cock. He bucks out with a grunt, staring dead at you.
Your eyes meet. Normally, guys like him love to talk about whether you could handle these kinds dicks, but. Lin didn't do that. He stares down at you with intense, dark eyes. It was like he knew you could. Your pussy purred.
You collected his oozing juices on your palms, firmly stroking his length, reveling over how your hands spread out and shrank as you traveled past that fatty bulge in his middle shaft, his soft veins tickling the pads of your fingers. He was boiling with temperature, like a raging, unrelenting fire. Surely he'd burn you alive.
He was a dragon.
You leaned down, rolling out your touch. Lin braced for impact, breath picking up. He was dreaming. He was dreaming. BunnyFist was about to suck him off--
"Fuck Lin, that look is deadly… Mmhm, where's your phone? I gotta capture your beauty," you purred out. There you were teasing him more and more. He already knew how catty you were, but fuck, his cock was crying in your grip, needy.
"The table," he grunted.
You blink, taken aback, "Oh? You're okay with it? Me taking photos of you like this?"
"You want it, (y/n)… You offered," his eyes were so dark. You shivered delightfully.
You released his cock, it slapped back against his shirt, and you quickly grabbed his phone from off the table, polite not to smear his screen with his juices. You swiped right on his device, hopping into camera mode.
He was gorgeous. His tan, meaty thighs spread, his gut-destroying monster red and alert, following up a tart waist to broad shoulders. And the star, his glossy, hungry eyes, like a predator in waiting. He was going to pounce on you one day for sure. Oh, how you teased and delayed him.
It'll all run up. That patience won't spare you.
He was deadly.
You stuttered, "Fuck you're good, Lin."
You snapped photos, so sure the phone was shaking, getting the angles right, and his Obsidian pearls followed, lethally, dominantly staring into the camera no matter where it went. You lifted up his shirt, he helped you, taking it into his hands, then holding his shirt up with his teeth, dropping a meaty hand to clasp over his base. He adjusted his cock into the light, that red, fiery tip.
You quivered, "You're a natural… You belong on camera." His chest was still tan but significantly brighter than the rest of him. His shoulders were darker, showing how he often wore sleeveless shirts. How could he keep such a good tan up in the autumn? But his chest was chiseled, he looked like a fighter, and he could tank serious hits like it was nothing.
Just who was Lin Lie?
He growled, "Are you done?" His patience is running thin.
You snapped out of it, taking the last picture, and throwing his phone aside. "Shitt," he grumbled blissfully, collecting your hair as you sink into his monster cock.
You licked a fat stripe up his base, through his wide shaft, and to his tip. He hitches his breath, so warmly you invite his red tip into your mouth with kitten lips.
"Mm, so misbehaved… We'll fix that, Lin," you whisper. You cup his base with two hands, licking a pretty-looking stripe up his length. His taste is salty, faintly sweaty, and rich, too. Playing with the real thing was different, truly.
Lin only watches as you take his head into your mouth, your moist, hot breath grips him, and your tongue is polite in greeting him. You badger a sharp tongue into his hole, forcing him to buck in surprise. You flatten the hot muscle, aligning it beneath his dick, giving it appreciative licks before sinking.
You descend deeper and deeper, reaching his girthy shaft. Your jaw widens so large, so sure you'd choke to death on him. You grab his thick, warm hips, while your name is the only thing drifting out of his lips. You've deep-throated worse.
You bear through it, finding your nose pressed flat against a vein on his abdomen, his racing pulse beaming against your nose. Your throat was packed full, squeezed to no room, a true log in your throat. You slurp that tongue out of yours, as it curved down against his base and to a bit of his balls, so you lapped it greedily, bobbing your head slowly to match the rhythm.
"Shit-- (y/n)," he grunts. He dropped his head against the sofa, toes curling, heavy hand against your mop of hair. "Taking it all in… So good," he pants, never wanting to look away, but swept up by pleasure.
You took it seriously now, bobbing back to his middle shaft, how your throat stretched for the bulge, only to sink back down again, forcing that girthy part back deep. It was like your throat was getting fucked by him. Your hole ached painfully. Your spit and his precum built up sticky bubbles at the base of his cock, a shameful ring of combined liquid, paired with a sharp squelch for every bob on Lin's dick. And each time you made it back down, you licked up that area between his base and his balls.
Your speed quickened, swiping your tongue like a rattlesnake, feeling his tip poke at the back of you. Lin grew restless, panting, gasping out, gripping your hair knuckle tight, unable to praise you, slow you down-- hell, even get out coherent words. Seas of airy, deep moans, whimpers, and grunts bubbled out into the open air.
You were milking him dry, his precum like a ready faucet. Yet the only thing on his mind is that his long-time crush, the only woman in the world who he could get off to, BunnyFist was deepthroating him like he meant nothing. He's seen you suck the most monstrous things, fantasized it, even had it follow it into dreams, but to experience the gummy, lethal squeeze of your warm, soft throat, watch your pretty face eagerly Bob up and down- back and forth-- all with that fucking devilish gaze.
"Mhhhtt-- haa-- ah oh cumming, cumming b-bunny," Lin cries, his grip knuckle tight. It stings, but you slam down onto his base, humming intensely, shooting vibrations from your throat straight onto his cock, licking and lapping his base and balls, with a soft rock, ready to accept his salty shit straight into your body.
Lin whines out, the sound is strained, shot deep into the air, as hot wads burst into your throat. His chest is heaving, eyes lost beyond the clouds, pink lips red and parted tastefully. His grip steadies after his high, and finally, you can slide off, coughing at the burn in your throat, as spit and precum dribble down your neck.
Lin slowly leans forward, discarding his shirt and using it to wipe down your mouth and neck. His touch is gentle, despite his massive arms. "Fuck… Thank you… (y/n)," His face is flushed, and afterglow overtakes his tan cheeks.
He asks, cupping your dry face in his hands, pulling your face to him, "What do you need? Need some water?"
"Thank you?" you croak in confusion, a gentle giggle leaving you. "You're driving me crazy…" You gaze to your left, watching the night sky beam in from the windows.
What time was it?
He grins, "Come and get it, bunny." He's still hard.
Someone to finally match your stamina?
You grin, shooting into his arms as he embraces you, pulling you off the floor and into his lap. Your lips crash with a fire, messy and sloppy, lapping tongues against each other, scooping out his mouth, reveling in the sensual, wet touch.
His arms pull at your shirt, helping you lift it over your head. He dives into your neck, sucking and licking the space, while giant, warm hands caress their way up and down your body. They mingle with your ribcage before dipping to your back, snapping your bra free with a click. You pull back with a pant, and he's deadly quick with slipping the rest of the bra off you.
Your pretty chest, his gluttonous hands slide up them, cupping each to a hand, neither alone. "So pretty," he whispers in awe. His eyes were drowning in affection. Your heart skipped a beat.
"Kiss me, Lin," you whimpered. Not a second wasted, Lin dove in, guiding you, gripping your hips as you ground down on his cock. His fingers unbuttoned your jeans, unzipping the zipper.
He breaks free from the delicious lip lock, tasting your saliva on his tongue, he hushes, "We gotta get these off bunny."
"Mmh… Yeah, Sw--" you choke, "Bunny? Oh shit. Lin. Lin, what time is it?"
He flinches at first but steps into action. Lin reaches for his phone, tossed on the couch beside you, "It's t'uh… 9:30…"
"Shit! Listen-- Lin, I'm having so much fun, but I really gotta go." You dashed off, sliding to your feet, stuffing all the things you could into your backpack.
Lin reaches for his clothes, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. "Oh-- Okay... Y-Yeah..."
"Im so sorry I mean I-- Its nothing personal Im really having fun with you here," you choke up even mlre.
Lin's face is painfully red, as he bashfully cups the back of his neck. "No-- You're good I... I'll walk you out."
You smile, face heating up, "God thanks for being cool about this. Sorry well have to... You know. Link up again..." You chime.
Lin's eyes sharpen, "You know it, bunny."
You chuckle, boting your lips before refocusing on SwordMaster. "Mmh, yeah, hold on, I gotta send a text to my friends. Tell them I'm going to be a little late."
You pull up your chat log with Sw0rdMasterLL, stepping out of the way so Lin couldn't see your phone, your precious titties still hanging out.
BunnyFist: hi! sw0rdmasterLL!! smth urgent came up, im gonna b 10-20 mins late.
Ding!
Lin's phone chimes. He gasps behind you.
BunnyFist: i promise this won't take away from ur allotted time!! 💜
Ding!
Your eyebrows furrowed.
Sw0rdmasterLL is online.
You can hear Lin shift behind you.
BunnyFist: is that okay?
Ding!
Lin's phone chimed again.
Slowly, you looked up from your phone. There was Lin, his face a deep red, his pants barely thrown on, eyes staring frantically at the screen, then slowly, his eyes rose to you.
You waited a second, disbelief in your soul. You count five seconds.
Then you typed again.
BunnyFist: swordmaster
Ding!
"Lin," you huffed.
BunnyFist: Swordmaster
Ding!
"B-BunnyFist," Lin stammered.
Within seconds, you bounded forward, diving straight into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck, sucking his tongue up. His wild hands grazed over your back as you bucked and moaned into him from the kiss, sounds muffled by his lips. You broke apart with a heavy, primal whine, "SwordMaster, SwordMaster."
"Bunny," Lin grunted, taking your bottom lip and biting it with a drag.
"T-take my clothes off, fuck me, lin," you whined, head growing heavy and weak in his shoulder. You started grinding, whimpering like a dog fresh in heat.
He spared you, immediately picking you up by your ass and carrying you into his bedroom. He dropped you on his twin bed, which faced the corner of the room, and there he stood next to you, his tall foreboding frame looming over you, the exit behind him. With all this shade cast over him. His build reminded you of IronFist's pure, delicious mass.
You watch Lin's impossibly broad, large frame reach into the bedside table, pulling out a condom strip, and ripping one off with his sharp canine. It's a beautiful, anticipated sight, how dark-lidded eyes unwrap plastic with a frustrated, dead-flat expression, and guide a clear wrap over a leaky, monster dick.
"Please," you whine. Those dark eyes shot to you, all the stare of a dangerous force. Your body purrs out, bucking into nothing. He crawls on top of you, massive hands on either side of you, trapping you in his relentless gaze.
Those large hands roll down your shoulders as he kisses your lips, neck, collarbones, and tits in one go. Each press of his plump lips is a reaction to your soaked cunny, drenching the bedsheets beneath you.
"l-lin," you moan out, puckering your lips, trying to bring him back up.
He leans in slowly, eyes hazing. You shut yours, aching for a kiss.
Instead, with a mighty slam, your left leg is beside your head, knee dear to your elbow. You gasp, eyes shooting open, but before you could register, your right leg is captured the same way.
Lin leans into your ear with something delicious prodding your hole, "I know you're flexible…" He hushes lethally, airy and drunk, threatening. "I've seen your streams," he whispers, "You can take it."
Then, with no hands, Lin arches forward, his cock tip slipping through your folds, going up, badgering against your clit, right where your labia starts and beneath your hood. "S-shit, lin," you cry out. With no hands, he thrusts against the spot repeatedly, heavy breath above you, not breaking eye contact, thrusting against the same spot.
You've lost all control over your voice box, your toes curling in the air, your hole puckering, needy, clasping on nothing when you know it should be filled right now. Filled up to the brim by Lin. Your hand shoots up, grabs a chunk of his hard, muscular shoulder, nails baring into it. His precision continues on you, as he licks a fat stripe up your neck, your toes clenched.
"S-stop it-- mmmm lin pleasuh," you beg, feeling your juices dribble down your ass.
There's this evil grin splitting over his face, one mixed with pity and desire. "Alright, Bunny," he sighs, taking another wet stripe up your neck. With one far thrust, he slides the length of his boiling hot cock up your lips, preparing your senses for the fatness of it before it dives in.
Then, still with each of his hands pinning down your legs, he angles his hips downwards, dragging his tip across you until it hits your hole. "Welcome, welcome," he hushes out, "isn't that what you say?" Your body starts to squeeze, peppering kisses against his tip.
You whine and shiver, "creepy lin."
He laughs heartily, pecking a kiss of appeasement on your skin. His tip makes contact with your hole, the hot, round skin plunges in, as you suck in the full mushroom. He doesn't slow, sliding in at a steady pace, as your body sucks in his broad shaft, hymen stretching over its fatness, toes curling in delight, he's lengthy, just when you think you're about done, you finish over the fatness of his shaft, never meeting his base, as his fat tip plunges into your cervix.
"h-holy-- shit lin," you mewl, so sure it wasn't as big when it was all in your throat. You pick your head up, eyeing the space where your body connected, and only an inch hangs out of him. "N-no way," you mutter, but are silenced by sweet lips against yours, your legs brushing against his shoulders.
He tongue-fucks your mouth as he ravishes your walls, thrusting steadily, deep, intense thrust. His thickness splits you open, stretching you wide, plunging deep to kiss your cervix. Your toes clench, thighs trembling under his giant palms. You squeal into the kiss, but Lin is relentless, slurping up your tongue and muffling you.
His fat cock pounds into you, hitting the same spot in your gummy, spongy walls, the thrust echoing through your belly, your bladder trembling in the pressure. He finally frees your lips to groan out deep and slow, letting loose, letting hips fly. His obisidion colored eyes flee behind his lids, pink-tipped nose an erotic red, while his bruised, swollen lips take shape into a beautiful you. Your squelching takes up the room, decibel a kind to gunshots, your pussy seeming to live its high-life. All this filled up the room like an addictive drug, dousing out chemicals in your brain.
Lin can feel his balls start to surge, but neither of you wanted this to end. He slows down, pulling his cock out mid-way, admiring the ring of sloppy, pure white fluids around his base. "I can't pull out." Your pussy gripped him, sucking him right back in. He moans breathlessly, "You won't let me," he whines.
Your body shudders, savouring the minute to catch your breath. It doesn't last long as Lin collects your wrists, your legs still planted up in the air, he cocks his hips back.
"wu-- wait-- Lin," you stammer out.
And with one fierce thrust, he slams deep into you. Your head flies back into the pillows, your moan audacious.
He chuckles, "Be a good girl and keep your legs up there for me." His thrusts are swift and hard, like a bullet train or a jackhammer. So hard that he releases a pugnent, heavy grunt for everyone, his muscles straining, his breath controlled for his athleticism. Your palms meet his abdomen every thrust, his grip on your wrists secure.
You were being stretched to the max; the truth was, you weren't a built god the way Lin was. By now your legs were shaking, released to a wuivering, fatigued mess, body reacting uncontrolled, confused, a squirt sprays in the air. He laughs sweetly, "So pretty, bunny. Can't handle this?"
He released your arms, and you dropped your legs shortly after. He leans over you again, and your limbs wrap tight around him. His hands grab your hips, thumbs circling the bone. "It's s'all right, if I fuck you like this, I can hit your clit too," he hums.
"w'wu-ait lin--" he slams into you again, his abdomen bumping your clit roughly. You gasp sharply, hands gripping chunks of his beautiful, black locs. You were deathly overstimulated, the pressure of being manhandled built up in your bladder, pleasure turning your brain dumb. Lin, on the other hand, was so sprung, so athletic, you were confused he was superhuman. His rippling muscles weren't just for show, and neither was his flexibility. Your legs gripped around his hips for dear life, already sore but loving the way he murdered your pussy.
"Li-- Li-- ple..aahfu! Go-- mmff, gonna cum" you moaned out. His hammers hit your clit for every thrust, your sweet nub swells, filled with precious sparks, flavored in your erotic desire. It all bubbles up, bubbles up before you're seeing stars, and a sharp, circling orgasm takes your breath away. He fucks you through it, slowing down when you land back on earth, loving the way your body tremors as he kisses your neck.
"L-lin-nuh," you gulp, blinking slowly, soreness spreading up your ass and lower back. "So good-- m'pussy feels so good, babe," you whisper drunkenly.
"You did well, bunny," he mutters between his kisses. "But baby, 'm still so hard," he whimpers.
Your eyes shoot open, mouth hanging for flies. "My god… lin," is all you can manage as he pulls out, showing you his hard, red-tipped, fiery dick. He swings it; its length is mouth-watering. Your body surges in excitement as you find the strength in you to sit up. "I don't think I can take any more," you lick your lips, falling back against the bed frame, "But I can help you, darling." You open your mouth again, wide and erotic, your tongue lulling out, heat rising.
Lin chuckles, crawling up and straddling your chest. His knees were on either side of you as his cock aimed at your lovely mouth. The view was amazing, tall, muscular, tan skin as far as the eye can see, with rippling six-pack, complemented by deliciously full pecs. He was godly, and you swiped horny hands down his buttery rolls of packs. "My god, Lin, are you a super-hero or something? You're about built for war," you giggle as you kitten lick him.
His confidence is smug and sudden. "You would know. You've probably studied every picture of me on stream."
Your eyebrows furrow, "What--" Fat cock is shoved into your mouth, as your hands trail down his body and to his cock. It's tasty, hot, and salty, pumping to kiss your throat. After a few thrusts, he pulls out, rubbing his tip against your lips. "Mw'vhat d'ya mean," you muttered.
His free hand rises to his face, laying a hand over his eyes, "BunnyFist, don't you get it?" And suddenly it clicks.
"Iron--fii," the taste of him rolls on your taste buds as his cock glides right back in. your whole puckers around nothing as he uses your throat like a rag, its hotness restricting like a python around his dangerous length. You bob, suck, and hum, eyes shutting in bliss, excitement. Everything you ever wanted was blinding together like a blissful puree- to fuck sword master, to fuck lin, to fuck iron fist.
But hell, he was still in, that kid younger than you-- a girl pursuing her master's, so you pushed his hips, and he slipped out.
And with a deadly glare and blown-out eyes, you muttered, "Prove it."
A daring grin sliced up Lin's cheeks.
"我一往无前!"
Jade green burst out of his body, his forearms glowing an emerald color, supernatural swifts of dark matter circled his body, his heavy breaths going as silent as still water. "f-ffuck me-- lin," you cursed out, half in shock, half embracing yourself for the punishment he was surely going to deal to you. You had never seen such supernatural up close, not as Lin caressed your face and then grabbed the side of your hair, not as the green aura traversed down his cock, as its skin shimmered in a glittery, iridescent green glow.
"Lin?" he seems to get cocky, offering a scoff.
Your pussy sputtered, wetness all in your thighs again.
"What's my name, Bunny. Say it."
"I-IronFist," you moaned out, eyes fluttering behind your lids.
"Good girl," he purrs. He slaps his cock against your tongue, watching as your big eyes tremble between looking at him, his aura, and the sheen of his cock. "I think I'll finish like this," he mutters. IronFist lays his cock against your face, laying a thumb against his length to keep it steady. He thrusts against your face, his cock going up the side of your cheeks, your tongue, to your nose bridge, with its tip resting on the height of your hairline. You lulled out, eyes fluttering away as you absentmindedly licked up his length.
"Cum on me, IronFist," you sighed, heart skipping beats.
He grabs his length, jerking off so dear to your face, his tip poking your upper lip. "IronFist--" You mewled breathlessly. The gorgeous shot of him below at this angle, with his cock ready to spray you, marks you as the whore you felt in this moment. Wanting to be used by IronFist.
"ghn- Bunny,, shit," he groaned out, his voice sensitive and sharp.
His seed shoots out, spraying your face with an off-white filled with shimmering green. His aura weans before it's sucked right into him, flowing into his arms with an intense woosh. And for a minute after such fucking, the two of you sat there, out of breath, panting in an array of many emotions. Lin crawls off you, his face hot and embarrassed, staring at the mess he made of you. Your hymen was stretched, so visibly that he could see it, and your hair that was roughed up by his hands, how your legs twitched, still recovering from your heavy orgasm, and how you panted as if you ran a marathon.
A cheesy smile dashed his face.
He got to fuck his favorite pornstar, the woman he had been shooting shots with for countless months.
He crawls up close, wrapping you up into his arms, "(y/n), need me t--"
"You're IronFist? Like actually IronFist," you spat out, hands reaching up to cup his peck.
"I thought I proved it, bun'," he chuckled.
"I know, but," you squeeze his pec, "I think I'm in shock…" You gulp, sighing in airy bliss, "That sex was sooo good, Lin."
Lin smooths down your hair with a laugh, "It was amazing, (y/n)." He shifts to get up, but you grab him by his bicep, squeezing the thick meat there.
"I don't think I'll let you go-- ever. No, I won't let you go now, Lin," You command.
"Heh, I wasn't going anywhere, just gonna get you a towel."
"Don't need one."
"Really now? Sure." Lin leans forward, his tongue lolling out, lapping up his cum from off your face.
"So fucking hot, Lin," you laugh. "I wanna put you on camera."
"How are we gonna do that?"
"Maybe I'll do something like, 'Having My Boyfriend Stuff Shit Inside me Until I can't Anymore' stream," you grin deliriously. Lin pulls you into his lips; the kiss is possessive on both ends.
"So I'm your boyfriend now," he hums.
"They'll have to pry you from my cold, dead hands, Lin… Iron Fist," you moan.
"I love the sound of that," he says, sinking into you, kissing you deeply.
And as the night wanes, your project sits completely forgotten on Lin's table.
3 x 4, 1 x 2, 2 x 3, 1 x 4, mentions of 4 x 1 x 5 • SMUT
syn: the hanks are realized humans now, and with that comes a lot of excitement and exploration. sneaking off from their duties, four hanks fuck in secret until they are caught by their bros. what hides in secret blossoms into hands, dicks, and lips everywhere.
tags: smut, orgy, powerplay, pred/prey, brat/brat tamer, overstim, yearning, voyeurism, exhibitionism, anal fingering, raw dog, pitiful men, everyone is a switch, switch dynamics, barely beta read
an: hank five not included (im so sorry). BARELY BETA READ
The sounds escaping the bedroom are deathly lewd.
The smooching of lip and tongue, the natural squelching of one's throat as it sucks, and the not-so-easily-disguised moans that escape Hank Number Four.
He's laid down, dressed in his crop top, in his human body, warm and flushed, with his hands perched under his chin to brace. But whatever it is, it's not working for him. He's close to howling, more so to moaning, eyes hidden back behind his eyelids. His cock is gripped nicely by the base, his head bullied while that gorgeous, skillful, hot mouth is able to take all of him in that throat in a second.
He's losing his mind, but he's really not trying to.
He's loud. All at the hands of Hank Number Three.
Three hops off Four with a pop, flushed-faced and pinched brows. He whispers, "Dude! You gotta be quiet man...!"
Four starts immediately, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Can't have everyone else coming in here," Three cautiously looks around the room. The coast is still clear. "I'm gonna make you cum, alright? But you gotta lock in." His voice is strong, green eyes plastered drunkenly on Four's gorgeously tan body.
Four shudders at the intensity, cock perking in delight. He hums, nodding, reaching down and caressing his ginger locks. He can't escape the loving, tender, but stern gaze. They lock eyes for what feels like forever, until Three pulls away, lustfully.
The sight is hot, the sensation is liberating.
Three licks a handsome stripe up Four's thickness, staring deep into his eyes with an almost vengeful gaze. He's erotic, like a lion devouring prey. Four tries not to squeal, running wild hands up his blonde locks, gripping onto his own hair for purchase. Bracing himself for the moment Three lewdly sucks all of him in, instantly bobbing him into the redhead's throat.
"hh--uuff," Four groans, it's his best shot at muffling himself without squirming. Three's throat is addictively hot, hot as it chokes his cock in a vice. His throat is soft, squelching, equipped with all the feeling of worship in the world. And Four is all the way in there, his leaking cock dribbling in insanity.
"noo--no way Hank, ii cant-uhhh," his moans are picking up. Every time they do so, Three slows down, his face heating up.
Three pops off his cock again, forcing Four to buck as Four's cock slaps against Three's cheek. Three doesn't even flinch, still staring with those predatory eyes.
Three grunts, "Cmon ma--"
"ii- I think i might cum--!" Four suddenly whimpers.
Three is fed, licking his lips like a big cat, "I'm not even sucking you now..."
"Eehh--ffuck," Four flinches.
"What is it Hank? Am I too sexy for you, hot-stuff?" He teases, licking his lips.
Hank loses it, blue eyes rolling back in a painful whimper, "Y-yes.... Yes, man."
Three purrs, "Keep your eyes open. I'll give you a show."
Four blinks open to see Three slapping his cock against his red face, watching the redhead bury his nose into blonde pubes. How he sneaks deeper in Four's crotch to slurp up his sack--
"Ennh--" Four moans--
and how he drags Four out of his lips with another, addictive, ear candy 'pop'!
"nnoo- way," Four years.
Three rubs his nose against the bridge between Four's cock and base, as he takes his hand to scoop up Four's length and press it against his warm face. Three's silver band glows in the mid light, adding a more exotic favour, one that has Four fighting his orgasm. The silver ring was a show of romantic commitment the Hanks had for each other, a deadly reminder that the redhead vixen that was pouncing in him was his partner for life.
Four shakes dramatically, shivers in his hips, his cock red hot. "Noo--n-noo I don' wanna cum," he drools.
Hank Three giggles; it's cute and drowning in affection. "Look, bro-seph," Three smiles. Four's cock is completely resting on Three's face, his fiery red head is twitching and leaking against Three's forehead and into his hair, while his balls tickle Three's beard.
"O--Oj- Fuu-uck," Hank Four finally explodes, his eyes rolled back into the abyss, cum dying red hair and off white. All while Hank Three laughs breathlessly. "Mm-ff-- sorry.mm brodie," he swallows thickly, staring at the mess made on his partner.
He slides his length off Hank's face, leaning down with delicate thumbs and an earnest tongue to clean up what he can.
"Hehheehff-- hahaha," and the other just can't stop giggling. "Were gonna get caught," Three barrels.
"Y-yeah... They're gonna notice," Four smiles, toothy and enamored. They both turned to the door, but to much surprise it never opened. They were sure with how loud they were, at least one other Hank would've popped in.
Their eyebrows furrow as Hank Three finally slips up onto his feet, hands in his hair.
"Huh... Lemme see," Four mumbles as he walks over to the door, peaking out. And to much surprise, the hallways echo with distant, muffled moans coming from another room. He barks abruptly, "Hank!!"
Three comes around the corner, a wet towel on his head, "Oh-ho... That's why we weren't interrupted."
"I wanna go see man," Four whimpers, his cock already twitching.
Three bites his lip hard, "You already know what I want."
--
In the laundry room, things were getting weird. Hank Two clearly remembers how the day was supposed to go. This was their last day in your home before they moved into their townhouse just down the street. The Hanks wanted a taste of life that wasn't too far from you, but just enough to take in the human experience.
How they planned to move things, stuff, and go. Hanks 3&4 were in charge of the bedroom, 5&you went to get the moving truck, and he and one of them were getting the downstairs taken care of. Two knew how hype up everyone was about this, and he knew how excited his own body was. So he decided to avoid the bedroom at all costs and go with the most level-headed Hank outside of himself - Hank One.
He knew how fucking horny he was and wanted to stay on top of everything and be respectful. Knowing if he went with Hank Three, one thing would lead to another, and he'd end up having his dick up the redhead's ass.
So tell him why, after keeping himself responsible and restricted that this ended up happening anyways.
Two's face was planted against the window, his arms on the windowsill, hands hugging a poor plastic plant between his arms for purchase and sanity. As One's fat, juicy, meaty cock destroyed his ass. Two was loud, not shy, drooling against the window, as his body finally got exactly what it needed. One was pressed up against his back, thick and heavy pants in Two's ears, his curls tickling the side of his face, his big, warm hands gripping Two's hips.
Every thrust was powerful, but not swift. Precise, with a steady pace-- just the way One liked it. He loved the steady, sharp tug Two's ass had around his cock. Two was sensitive and soft, twitching and gulping him down in all the right places. Sweat dribbled down One's handsome face, his muscles strained in delight.
"Take it, baby, take it," One whispers, his voice is near silent, calm, level-headed, and collected.
And it only frustrated Two more.
It's not what he wanted. And he didn't have the strength or the humility to cry out and ask. Two was supposed to keep everyone in check. Yet he succumbed to the very same shenanigans he swore to Three that he was above. He wanted to be teased, he wanted all his boys here, he wanted everyone to be wild, to fuck. He didn't care about anything but that anymore.
And curse him, going with One, the soft top who will only give you exactly what you asked for. Because Two wanted to keep the ego that came with not begging.
He wanted his cock pulled and abused, he wanted those body-breaking thrusts he's seen One deliver on Three, he wanted the brat taking experience, the slaps, the hair pulls, the pure muscle shit One pulls on everyone except him.
One fucks Two like they're in love, Two wants to be fucked like he's in heat. To be fair, that kind of fucking is the only one Two really liked. But, for some reason, maybe it was the excitement, the newness of being flesh, he wanted to hurt.
One's thrusts come to a complete, deafening stop, as he bottoms out in Two, wrapping arms around his body, pulling the ravenette away from the plant and completely in his arms. His lips kiss and ghost up Two's neck until they make it to his ears, "What's wrong, Hank? You're not talking at all," he hushes, lovingly nuzzling his nose behind his ear.
The affection bundles up in Two's heart, causing him to swallow thick. One lays down Two's hair with hands that caress all over him, and as they move, one reaches up to swipe away Two's drool. And all Two can feel is bitter jealousy. Jealousy that he can't speak up like he wanted to.
Two stammers for a second. One tenses completely, beginning to pull out--
"Wait!" Two finally finds the courage. "Hank... Please just..." He gulps.
Concern is burning in One's throat, "What's wrong, amigo?"
A whisper flies out of Two's mouth.
"What's that? I didn't catch ya," One speaks.
"Can you just........like......Three," Two's face burns and is an embarrassed red.
One slips out, turning Two on his side, his hand catching and holding the other's thigh. The beauty in Two's face makes his heart skip a beat; it's a fragrant red, his pretty obsidian eyes fleeing from his. "Hehe, you look like cherry blossoms, bro," he smiles.
Two swallows thickly, "One... You are so difficult, bro. Focus, man," he sighs.
"Huh? Oh! Sorry, what did you say? Did I miss somethin--"
Hungry lips steal his words. As Two basks in the sweetness of One's thick, plump lips. All of his senses fade away as he wraps his arms around One's neck, ravishing his mouth, taking his tongue like it meant to be conquered, as he wraps his legs around One's waist. One is taken aback for a millisecond before he locks in. His arms hook about Two, supporting his weight as he lets Two lead the kiss.
They break away with a hearty snap, as Two growls, "Fuck me like you mad at me, homie."
That's all it takes before Two is slammed against the wall, with a Cock berating his ass, and his tongue assaulted as if it were under arrest. Hands were everywhere, gripping everything in a frantic, passionate flurry. One was achingly hard, his face hot and warm, a clear indication he'd be a glowing bright red if it weren't for his handsome melanin. Never in his life has he heard Two sounds so fucking dirty. His brain had shut off completely, and fucking took its place.
Two tugged at his bouncy curls, legs wrapping around him, rewarding him with a tight squeeze for every relentless thrust. His hole was stretched, satisfied, soft, and fluttering with pure delight. He tried to break free from the lip-bruising kiss, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. But One's hand grabbed his chin like a vice, his free hand going to abuse the asian's tart, brown nipples.
"Ooug-- aa-- ooumm-- my go--" Two gasps out, body limp, fully at One's mercy like a ragdoll. Two tried to squirm, but One quickly caught his muscular arms and pinned him with his own. His hands wrapped around Two's head, each palm on the top of his messy, sweaty black hair, with his elbows resting on his neck, pushing him down by the top of his head into every thrust. Two's toes curled, droopy dribbling out his lips yet again, monolid eyes shut vice as if he were seeing stars.
God knows the noises he was making to himself; it was like his soul was taken from his body with every sharp breath he took. His ears could only sense and hear every needy grunt, gasp, and moan that One dribbled out, and when he was able to open his eyes, it was One's dark, pretty face twisted in pure bliss that overtook his vision.
Pressure was on him, literally, as One used all his weight to keep him pinned against the windowsill, and all his strength to send spine-shattering blows.
Their erotic sounds echoed off the walls Two was unaware; he screamed in how the sloppy, disgusting sounds of their sexes overtook. All he knew was that when One finally released his head, he was able to breathe deeper breaths up until his cock was grabbed. "H-aan-- haaank-- kluh kummin,," he gargled out, shooting hot shots until blanks fired out like missiles.
He squirmed and squirmed, and though One stopped thrusting, he abused his cock long after. Two twitched, screamed, shaking before clear white sprayed out of his body. It's only then did One forgive him, releasing him and pulling him off the windowsill and back into his arms. His legs were like jello, simply folding into One like a doll.
"Muh-- my... muh-hank," Two swallows thickly, his hands wrap nicely around One's neck, nuzzling his nose into his collarbone affectionately. "Thuh... thank you," he's finally catching his breath, finally putting weight onto his feet.
One stands there shyly, his face hot, lips bruised, hands fidgeting around Two pale, pretty waist. "You've never asked something like that from me... No... I don't think you've ever been fucked like that before by any Hank," One swallows thickly.
Two giggles, "Im so horny, bro."
"Shit, hot-stuff, me too," Three's voice splits the air. They both flinch and gasp, turning to the door. There were Four and Three, pants forgotten, cocks out, balls twitching like they both just came. Three continues, "I mean seriously, I don't know who I want to be more right now... One or Two," his face is seductive, his gulps thick and full of awe.
Four speaks, staring whoring eyes deep into One, "I wanna fuck you." His eyes are all glossy, head tilted down with a silent beg.
One points at himself, with a heavy, embarrassed stutter, "M-Me?! Bro?"
Four silently nods, his fists tightening, desperate to control himself.
Two laughs, standing up straight, laying a hand on his lower back, and slipping out the way right as Four walked up and took One's lips. Hands were all over each other. Four's palms worship One's waist, giving them hearty, handsy squeezes.
"You bros can have fun, I'm going to get back to work," Two mumbles. It falls on mostly deaf ears, drowned out by One's frantic: "W-uh-wait wait Hank!"
Two things he's safe, as he limps out of the room and into the kitchen, his hand on his far lower back. His throat is dry, lips curled up, face glowing in a beautiful afterglow. No way he can make it up the stairs. He turns back mumbling, "Hey, Hanks, Can y--" but he's interrupted quickly.
"I thought you said you didn't want to work with me cause I'd fuck you... I mean, you were totz' right... I pounced Four almost immediately, yo," Three monologs, stepping teasingly closer and closer to Two. He grabs him by the waist, taking some well-needed weight off his sore hips. He sighs delightfully, but his guard is high. Three's eyes were like a tiger's, and Two was sure he wasn't going to get devoured.
"But you? Hank... I've never seen you like that... Did what I said get to you? You know I can read you like a book, baby... Jus... Say the word and I'm yours," his words are addictive, breath heavy, tongue sexy. Two stares deeply into his lips, swallowing, hungry. Their powerplay was perfect, addictive. Three could tell its effect with the way Two's eyes hazed over with want. But somehow it wasn't enough.
Three smirks, dropping Two's waist against the table for support, as he falls to his knees for the second time today, his hands roll down Two as he does so. Two shivers, his cock aching half hard. "I don... I don't think I can cum anymore," Two whispers out.
"What do you want me to do, Hank," he mumbled, kissing up Two's hips and thighs.
"Fuck... I wanna fuck you bro," Two whines out, as if he were starving.
Three shivers, swallowing thickly. "You know I want that," his memories dance about the late night Two spent inside him, how three could ride him for hours. "Maybe next time, Hank," Three whispers between kisses.
Two swallows, "Wanna... Wanna fuck my throat?"
Three perks up.
"Hell yeah!"
"The day's bought ruined... Lets get everyone up to the bedroom at least," Two sighs, and three laughs lighthearted.
"Five missed out on a lot," Three laughs.
"Ah... and (y/n)... You know how they like to watch... Ah shit, and our townhouse-- We are totally sidetracked!"
"Our house will still be there tomorrow, and the next day... And the next... You've been so stressed, bro. Being a human has been hard, but... You, out of all of us, deserve a good break... A fun... sexy break," Three comes to stand, grabbing Two's waist and kissing him.
"Well... Everyone is pretty sprung today," Two smiles in anticipation.
"Mmhm, baby. Let's keep this party goin," Three calls. "Let's go round up the other two!"
--
One and Four needed a little bit more than rounding up. Since the moment Three and Two left, there was nothing but heat. Uncomfortable, uncontrollable heat. The two seriously didn't notice the others had left the laundry room, and funnily enough, One found himself pressed up against the same sweaty window he pinned Two to once before.
Only this time, greedy fingers were planted far up his ass. One groaned, deep and slow, but it was quickly swallowed up by the blonde's hot, damp mouth. One's tongue curled up every inch of the blond, his tongue spilling between the gap between Four's teeth. Two of Hank Four’s fingers were deep inside him, while Four's free hand groped One's tip.
"Hank," Four moans, his voice whiney, "You're such a good leader, homie... Have I told you how much I love you, bro," The blonde lays drunk kisses all over warm, brown skin.
"B-broo-uh," he moans out, strained, but his tone is touched. "I love you t-too!"
"I wanna be inside you," Four pants, dropping his head on One's shoulder while he thrusts his cock against his thigh.
"My god, bro, you've got good energy t-today. The team's in g-g-- ah uhh--" swift fingers hammer his g-spot-- "good spirits..."
"You haven't taken from me in weeks bro," Four growls almost. "Stop fucking everyone else and bounce on me," he slobbers, drunk on his taste. His thrusting grows sloppy as he focuses more on pleasing One. His hands grow fierce, "Your ass is so hot, I wanna cave-dive it."
One's face is deathly hot, his jaw agape, senses becoming overwhelmed. Four played with his cock hesitating as if it were a joystick, his fingers making love to his velvety walls, while the blonde's girth was ramming greedily into his thigh. "H-haank," is all One can muster.
Four pulls his head out of his shoulder, kissing his lips sweetly. "Did Two ask you to top him," he smiles daily.
"Mmh-- yeah... he was so hornyy," One groans.
"It was s-so hot... you two drive me crazy... and you... youre such a good boy... doin' as your told... You drive me crazy," Four licks up a nasty stripe up One's neck. "I love bouncing off your ass... mm I love you Hank," he whispers.
"B-bro-- I think i m-might cum," One swallows.
"Don't say that-- mm might cum thinking about it," Four stammers, staring at One's face. One's face begins to rise, eyes fluttering back and forth. His pretty brown eyes shimmer with delight, plump, pretty lips opening into a sexy 'o'. "Sh... I might c-cum," Four squints, staring at his face.
"H-haank," One moans.
Four swallows thickly, "C'mon, Hank... Cum Hank..."
One gasps, it's quiet and sharp, and with that, he spills right into Four's palms. His shoots are thick, hot, warm, like glue pinning him and his partner together. His breath grows ragged, missing Four's fingers as he pulls them out. Four immediately laps up cum, his greedy tongue enjoying the taste of his leader, his best friend. It's intimate, the way one stares so politely at Four, Four who eventually notices the admiring stare and kisses up his cheek.
Three's voice splits the affectionate quiet, "Bros... how about we take this party upstairs."
"Alright, we're coming," One swallows.
Four whimpers in One's ear, "Can you ride me up there, homie?"
"Of course, bro."
Finally, the mischievous hanks make their way up to the bedroom, their laughter and excitement budding through the kitchen, the hallways as they make their way by the front door to the stairs. Right as One, the hank leading the way, takes his very first step on the staircase, the front door clicks, and the door comes flying open.
"Brooooos!!" Five barks, bursting through the door with you shortly behind him. His face is glowing in excitement, "We got the-- What the hell," but when he opens his eyes, he is surprised to see all his friends near naked, flushed, and with the afterglow of sex floating about them.
"Duuuudes! No way you've been partying without me," he pouts.
"Oh my... So radical," you mumble.
"Hheeyyyy... brochacho," One stammers.
"We were just washing clothes," Two reassures you.
"Sorry, we were waiting for you, Five." Three smiles.
"I wanna join," Five interrupts, shutting the door behind him.
"Wanna gang One with me?" Four giggles.
Five beams immediately, "Hell yeah!"
"Can I watch?" you mumble, grinning ear to ear.
"Of course, homie," the Hanks chanted in unison.
"You can do more than watch if you want, Hot-stuff," Three purrs.
Pale skin, sharp cheekbones, beauty marks dotted about like kisses from moonlight. Soft brunette locks-- just the color of them was enough to keep people awake at night.
And awake at night, Mel asked herself the same questions.
You could have anyone else you wanted, Viktor.
Sweat clung to her body, her heart racing, her bed head wild as she gripped chunks of her long, lavish, curly locks.
He could have anyone he wanted.
Flashbacks of her dream wrapped her in a web. There were white hands everywhere, everywhere up her body. Everywhere she could think of, she lost her breath. As they achieved her orgasm. Everywhere, and yet not enough. Right above her, in the stars lay that cunning face. That beautiful face.
Viktor.
Her hands drag up her sweaty body and wrap tightly about her neck, a strained grunt escaping her. It was soft, quiet, cutting through the air. But it was enough to rock the bed and awaken the bear-like figure beside her.
The hum of Jayce's voice was like an engine. "Mel, honey? You... okay," he asks.
She turns in shock, "No... No. Go back to bed..." She shakes her head, reassuring him. But he knows it isn't true. He rises beside her, rubbing his sleepy eyes, wrapping a warm, vice-like hand over her shoulder.
Her breath grows rapid, her heart worsens, so she bites down on her lip to quiet the sound.
Viktor could have anyone he wanted.
Her wary eyes finally meet Jayce's.
"Bad dream," he asks.
She swallows, "the worst kind."
He sighs wistfully, gathering all of her into his arms, pulling her down soft onto him, pulling the covers over their warm, naked bodies. Like a cat, she melts into the warmth, enjoying her cheek resting on those muscles of his. He could support her. All of her.
Beneath her.
Above her.
Pale skin beneath her.
Skinny chest.
Her fist tighten.
Viktor wanted Jayce.
....Jayce wanted Viktor.
She wasn't blind.
Viktor could take Jayce away. Hell. That wasn't even the end of it. Viktor could have anything he wanted, and it would all fall at his feet. So why. Why only Jayce when...
No. She couldn't be thinking that way. Jealousy churned bitter in her gut, bitter as her ragged breath subsided in Jayce's heat.
She had Jayce tonight. But still, she was bitter. Deep in a chasmic and all-consuming way. A way too jealous to only be about Jayve.
Jayce. Her beloved and her prize. Who ran his strong, heavy hand over her head. She had won the petty battle between them. She got Jayce, Viktor didn't. He didn't have the warmth of Jayce in his bed every night.
Why did these dreams, these horrible nightmares plague her so much?
She rises from the bed.
Fists clenched with a vengeance.
"Jayce. You sleep on, dear... I will be back. I'm heading into my office for the night," she whispers.
"This late? Surely I--" Hes too cute. Too cute as Mel slides a loving hand up his cheek to silence him.
She hums, "If I can't sleep, I'll work."
He nods politely.
Mel dips off the bed, hugging her frame. The world is so cold without Jayce. Despite this, she sends him a coy look over her naked shoulder, before disappearing with a robe into the night.
Her only thought.
Hands off, Viktor.
--
Late-night working was always Viktor's thing. He could barely sleep at night, always tossing around in bed. While the pilties slept, he worked. He did his best work alone, absorbed in his silence. Without the buzz of anyone, especially no special distracting someones.
It's true, Jayce and Viktor's bond was beyond platonic. It was intimate, without words, without concepts to describe. It was harmony. Viktor still haunts the memory of big burly hands on his neck, neck, and everywhere else. Such a charming fellow.
It seems like every night now he's no longer here working, or in his room sleeping. But instead in the quarters of Mel Medarda.
Their relationship must be becoming serious now.
His machinery buzzes with every tool he uses, illuminating his face with a pale blue, his feet rock beneath him.
Mel Medarda.
The girl who could have anything she wanted with a snap of her fingers. Or from the words flying out of her coy, untrustworthy tongue. She had it, that whimsical understanding of nature that flows within her, like a hearty, grounded, willow tree. And less, she had the looks.
Beautifully melaninated, crafted by the sun, baked like deep brass, freckled with gold. Slender with a nice, round ass. He chuckles to himself at his description. It was true, wasn't it?
That's what his Jayce is doing right now?
How late into the night do they last?
Does he hold her everywhere, smothering kisses on her sharp collarbone?
She was rich, she got everything she wanted. She didn't need even more gentleness, even more sweetness, even more goodness.
And heaven knows, neither Mel or Viktor are good. Not in the way Jayce is.
Two evil people.
With their own cunning, wolf-like ambitions. And with every way to take them.
And surely, Viktor and Mel will take what they want. Patiently, strategically, slowly. Stalking.
May the hunt begin.
Viktor looks up from his desk, staring at the blueprints pinned to the wall in front of him. He says into his chair with a smug look and an even more smug grin. He hums loud and proud, "The pleasure to be visited by Coun'zelor Medarda."
He turns in his chair immediately after, his gaze meeting Mel, who stood in a white robe, her hair taken down at the back, leaving thivk, beautiful curls falling down her back. How pretty.
She raises her chin, "You heard me come in?"
"Oh, but of course," he rolls his eyes. "I 'vouldn't have said anything if I didn't, now w'ould I?"
She looks away. She's angry. He can tell. "Fair point," she hums.
He asks, eyes hazing over, "And 'vhat do I owe the pleasure, Counz'elor Medarda."
She doesn't say anything as she patrols about the room, gazing at all the work, all the blueprints and hex tech creations about the room. Her eyes land on a basket of hex tech spheres, sapphire in color, cold and blue against her warm, golden hands. She reaches for one, pulling it up to her eyes.
She hears his chair shift, hears as he steps closer, cane in hand, until he's beside her reaching out for the precious gem. "Dangerous stuff, Counselor. Why don't you let me hold onto it," his voice is low, dear to her ear unintentionally.
She gasps, clenching the gem tighter.
He quirks a brow. She quickly opens her palm again, and Viktor swoops in, stealing it from her palm casually. His cold fingertips touch the hotness radiating from her palm, leaving a permanent mark on her skin.
She shivers, gazing up at the vent above her, "Must it always be so cold in here, Viktor."
"If you want the tech to overheat," he mumbles. Viktor places the gem back, rearranging things quickly, with skill and passion.
She shakes her head. "What a talent you have Viktor," she hums. He looks at her, brows furrowing. She continues, "For creating.... Innovating. My... You could do anything, Viktor. Some might say, you could have anything Viktor. Anything you picked," She grows sly, vicious, cunning.
His eyes lid, lips parting. She wants something from him. "Hah... I have to 'vork for 'vhat I want... It's a bit d'fferent from picking handbags at a store," he says.
She laughs heartily, but it's plastic, fake, and strained. Laced with intention, laced to lower his guard. He can read her like a book, and he's sure she peers at him under the same looking glass. She asks harshly, "Is that what you think I do, Viktor?"
He turns away, returning to his seat, his back turned to her. He takes his sweet time to answer her. Her, Counselor Medarda, the girl who had everything. Yet she has to wait for a Zaunite engineer to speak. He knows how to turn gears.
When he finally sits down, he pats down his chest to waste extra time before answering. Judging by the way she followed over to his desk, it seemed to be working. "Possibly," he hums.
"Possibly?"
"Yes. Yes, possibly."
"Hah... Am I not a Counselor?"
"Oh yes, I know you are."
"Then, surely, you would know that my duties consist more of--"
"But of course, Counz'elor Medarda. You and I have different skill sets. Mine's deal with 'zhe hands. And yours, the tongue. You have to keep a lot of people happy, that's an honorable position," he hums. "And so, I ask again. 'Vhat do I owe the pleasure of this meeting, Counz'elor. And so late at night at that."
The buzz of the air vent fills the room.
Viktor speaks overtakes the quiet, "Having personal qualms, Counz'elor?"
She stiffens, "I-- I..."
"Is it about Jayce," he asks.
She finally looks at him.
He asks, "Is he under performing--"
"--What--"
"-- In his duties to you Counz'elor," He finishes.
She huffs in disbelief, wrapping a tight hand on her forehead. "Of course not, Viktor."
He stands, resting his hands on his desk. He looms over her by a few inches, barely enough to consider it towering, but still eye-catching. His gaze is strong, sharp as he stares right into her golden eyes. "Then 'vhy are you here so late at night, Mel. Are you unsat'sfied," he asks.
She barks, "What kind of woman do you take me for? Jayce is my world."
Its his turn to grow bitter, to grow angry. Petty, he pokes at her robe, pinching it, flicking the hem up just a bit to reveal her collarbone. Her hands fly up to swat his, but he lets go before she can touch him. He speaks, "You come in here with your lil'ttle robe on, naked underneath, I presume," he hushes bitterly.
"Hey--"
"To do 'vhat? Seduce me," he steps closer to her, throwing all his weight still on the desk beside him. She escapes back a step, and he blazes forward two. "I can tell you what your problem is, Medarr'da." He reaches, totally overstepping, totally overcome with anger. He grabs her chin, sturdy, unwavering, and their eyes meet. He hushes, "You are the kind of 'voman who has never heard the word no. No'xion royalty. Never knowing how to stop," he pauses.
Her breath is caught.
"So you play with your toys, get bor'ed, and move on to the next. And I am not you'rr toy, and Jayce is not a pet. Are you only looking at me now that you have Jayce? Do you only care because I am hiz' closest? Do--" he's cut off.
Mel grabs his wrist, it's a vice and silencing.
She barks, "Do you think I want to be attracted to you? Do you think I wake up everyday plotting on how I can hurt someone else? Jayce is my companion, my heart. My sweetness. The sweetness I've forgotten how to be. He is the only good within me, my only redemption."
"I feel the same," Viktor says, breathless.
"What would you even mean to me, Viktor? If I had you and I had Jayce, what would it mean to you," she cant stop herself anymore.
"That you got 'vhat you wanted. That I've fallen into another trap. At the hands of the hungry, never-ending rich. I would be powerless then. Completely," he sighs.
"What do you mean... Are there no other feeling to you. Is there be nothing else there," she whispers. Her heart hurts and she doesn't know why.
"You have everything."
"Wait," she pauses, "Viktor, wait. Powerless? Powerless to what," she asks.
"Vhat else? Anything you two asked. I w'ouldn't be able to stop anything anymore," he looks away, pulls his hand off her chin. "Where v'ould my freedom be."
She doesn't let go, she looms back into his view, taking her hand, resting it on his pale cheek. He turns finally, eyes pinned away still. "Stop what Viktor? Stop what," she whispers. She's so close, painfully close, and his heart is painfully warm.
"P-Please... Are you feeling what I'm feeling, Viktor," she's alluring. Deathly so.
"You should go, Counz'elor. You've over stayed your welcome," his lip quivers with need. Her hand rests on his chest.
"Viktor, no... I," she wants so say something. Anything.
"Please go," he whimpers. He doesn't pull back, doesn't stop her from leaning in, doesn't stop looking at her plump lips.
He doesn't stop as lips meet. A quiet, longing, peck, of lips resting together to bounce away. He cant stop his ragged breaths, or how hard his heart beats in his chest.
He cant stop anymore.
Viktor wraps an arm around her shoulder, she supports his weight, hands tight around his hips. He whines as he looks into her eyes right before sinking in, drowning in this needy, desperate, sullen feeling. A feeling that stood on the borderline of tears.
Tears if he couldn't get his way. Tears if she stopped him. Tears if she played him over.
He forgot his next string of thoughts as she slips her tongue into his mouth. His body seemed to crave it, and the itch he didn't know needed relieving. She was tiny, but sturdy, her arms around his waist, small palms spread about on his back. Their kiss was tasteful, full of exploration, swapping of spit almost embarrassingly.
He felt so in control wirh Jayce, there was no reason to be embarrassed. But here, it all felt messy, sloppy, pitifully needy. They broke for air, panting against wachothers cheeks, searching each other's eyes. And with a hearty push on his chest, Viktor found himself fully sitting on his desk.
"Wait-- Vait-- my work," he stammers. His face is red, a painful color never seen before.
"Viktor," she whines out like a hungry wolf.
"J-Just-- Just a second," he's pushing his work out the way, albeit taking advantage of the break to calm himself again. But he cant, he cant and--
His face his grabbed, pulled right back into another messy, needy kiss. She leans forward, her knee between his legs on the desk. Its the wood with a thud, she's tiny but still daintly muscular.
Viktor aqueak sout, hands flying to her chest. He can feel her soft mounds through the robe. Frantically, he grabs her shoulders instead, finally able to pull her back by a millimeter. His eyes are shut like a vice, she grabs his upper arm for balance.
He shouts, "H-Hold on!"
Her eyes wane into crescents, sly air as she bares teeth. For someone so opposed to her, he lets her dangerous teeth ever so close to his neck. He swallows thickly, leaning his head back on instinct. Her breath is layered thick against his skin, his lip quivers.
She drags her canine up his powder-colored skin, it already lights up in a red line.
"You won't be in control Viktor," she cackles.
He blinks in disbelief, "What?"
"Tell Jayce anything and he'd get on his knees," she drags a tongue up the mark she left, "and do it," her lips are steady crawling to his ear, "But I'm not Jayce. And I won't stop-- I wont ever listen to you."
He whimpers out, no longer grabbing at her to push her away, but instead for purchase. Her robe is wrinkled, and his body grows weak- shivering.
She drags another stripe up behind his jaw, turning it into teeth against his ear. "Mm-mel," he gasps out.
She asks, "What's my name?"
"M-Mel-- its Mel," he calls out.
Finally her hands travel south, down his body as he arches into her touch, down to his belt that is promptly unbuckled. "Mel- Mel please," he begs. His cock is freed into the air, already soiled, leaky, hot to the touch.
She rests her head on his chest, looking down at the pretty, skinny thing. His head is pink, he was cleanly shaven, a beauty mark by his base. She licked her lips hungrily, a soft, unmistakable grunt deriving from her- almost like a growl.
"Holy s-shit," Viktor curses. The duality of the situation dawns on him as she grabs his hips, pulling him to the edge of the desk. "Hoooly," he drags out the word, grabbing the cloth above his heart in a vice as she dips down on one knee.
Shes beautiful. Her diamond shaped face, as she pulls her hair off to one side over her shoulder, how her golden jewelry decorated her face, giving it a heavenly shine. And those green eyes, green with traces of gold ebbing within.
He was so hard, so unprepared when she took in his cock. Her mouth was soft, warm, small. And the visual of Mel Medarda on his cock. It was driving insane. He squirms, grabbing chunks of her hair, watching the way she arches longingly, watching one of her hands dip into her robe.
Shes so horny. So wild.
Was she ever like this with Jayce?
Shes feeling it too. How vulnerable her eyes shine and she sucks him off deliciously. His mouth is stuck agape in a perpetual 'O', pretty pink lips watching her two-toned ones sink on his most sensitive part. Well, maybe his second most sensitive part.
Squelching fills the room, adverse to the sucking and bobbing. Its sharp, on a different rhythm than her head, and he sucks in a sharp breath, knowing what it is. Knowing, as her eyes flee behind her eyelids, barely managing to keep that dangerous, hunting look in her eyes.
He lowers his grip to the back of her head, by the base of her neck. His hands seem large while holding her, its a dynamic he isnt used to. With a firm grip, he lowers her deeply into him, a sadistic flare rising in him at the sound of his head hitting her throat-- at the feeling of her brown button nose against his belly. His eyes roll back, her pretty squelching finally matching pace as he slowly drags her off.
Then forward, then backwards again, a personal fleshlight. Her throat welcomes him every time, never once has she gagged. She was skillfully, maddening. His freehand drags her curls away from her face. He whispers, "For someone who said I wasn't in k'ontrol... You seem to be... Enjoying this."
In a flash, her heavy, palm flies out, landing on his chest, pushing him harshly into the wall. His back knocks against his blueprints, a gasp overtaking him. In the rough moment, she picks up his thigh with her left hand, right holding him down against the wall, angling herself as she rises with him. A fire lights in her belly, as she deep throats him viciously, deep enough to drag her tongue against his balls, humming all the while, vibrating his cock as if it were nothing.
As if it meet nothing.
All while gunning him down with hatred succubus glare.
Viktor's head knocks back, his moans turning into quiet shouts, her name mewling from his lips. Shes bobbing, sucking, milking him dry expertly, holding his thigh up in a vulnerable position, forcing his toes to clench, and for his hole to gape around nothing. Nothing-- when it could be her there too.
"M--Mel ahaa-- mm-- cummingg," he drools, trying to sit up, but still pinned beneath her small palm.
He shoots his first round deep into her throat, his finals in her mouth on her hot tongue. Barely the second after he finishes, he was dropped, his body leaking clinging to the wall his back rested on. Her eyes were dangerous, dangerous as she sunk in close, swishing cum around with saliva in her cheeks. Her wet, slick filled right hand grabs his, chin, pulling his sexy mouth open. And she spits hapzardly on his chin, missing his mouth by a longshot, but still watching his cum dribble down his neck and onto his collar.
"My what a dirty uniform... Can't come into work wearing this," she mumbles. Shes not only talking about the cum settling into his collar, but she looks down further, to where her hand once was on his chest. The same hand that had fingers buried deep in her pussy. It left juicy marks all over his vest. He whimpers, half in disbelief, half with the desire to please. A desire that was unlike him.
He rolls his eyes, trying to look away but still having his skin gripped by her. She angles him to look at her, and she sinks in even closer to his skin. Hovering over the corner of his mouth, speaking against his cheek. "Don't mistake my kindness for submission, Viktor," she hushes deadly, "or I'll punish you again and again."
Its effects are potent. Lethal.
He couldn't stop the shameful, vulnerable words that bleed from his tongue. "Yes... Yes Mel--"
syn: the hanks get handsy when they're horny, and who are you to only pick one? why not fuck all five?
tags: orgy, cunnilingus, p n v, anal, voyeurism, marathon sex, barely beta read
an: this shit is fire
"Fuck," you moan.
What's the point of standing up when you've got heavy hands all over you. You're just outside the closet, groaning as Hank Number Three holds your hips, pressing his hard cock flush against your ass. Hank number One is to your left side, holding up your heavy face, trying to stay the level-headed one, despite the way his left hand slowly stroked his cock.
Hank number Four had hands all over your tits, he was the one who undressed you thus far, squeezing and playing with your nipples. Hank Number Five was right beside Four, his hand was on your right shoulder, staring you down with hazed-over, fucked out eyes. Second to Hank Number Three, he wanted to be inside you the most. You could see the devilish glare, the need to breed glimmering in his eyes.
And in the little gap between Three and One, stood Hank Number Two, staring at you with flushed cheeks, nervous hands, and concerned eyes.
"Aw, dude... So fucking rad," Three groaned out, loving your pretty chest.
"I don't think I can wait anymore," Five barked out, stepping forward, bumping Three's shoulder.
"G-guys, be easy with her. Tell us if you need us to stop, okay," Two's voice was meek, embarrassed, concerned, but lustful. He was nervous, holding back in the qualms of safety, but that look in his eyes was possessive. But still, he stayed controlled, and patient.
You nod, "Mm' okay, thank you Two. Now please l-lets just, get to bed."
"Princess has ordered," Three slyly cackles. It's him and One who help carry your jelly legs to the bed, where your hands and knees meet the plush bedding.
You stay still, still as everyone gets into place.
One sits in front of you, his gorgeously melaninated body glimmering with the smell of shea- and shining with the sight of his abs. To the right of him is Four, who is still wearing his shirt, but his pants have been long abandoned. "House homiee," Four chimes as he sits in front of you. Even when you look down, you see their very different cocks staring at you.
One's dark, skinny, and long dick that was clean and neatly shaved; then Four's massively thick, but mediumly sized tan cock, accompanied by a wild, thick, blonde happy trail. You were leaking, thighs drowning in your own slick. And when you looked up, you saw One's reassuring and encouraging glare, and Four's toothy, excited grin.
On the right side of you, the bed creaks, and you quickly turn your head to see Two, who flinches when you make eye contact with you. His eyes lower to his friend's cocks, and then to your breasts before falling back on you nervously. He's the only one fully dressed, not even with his fly undone. He is watching you, reading you, making sure you're okay still. But also with the hunger of a repressed teen. It made your pussy flutter.
A strong, sly voice boomed behind you, as you felt warm, large hands on your ass. "Look what we have here," a cock with a fat head slaps your pussy, forcing you to groan out. You glance behind you, and you see Three, biting his lips with a flush face. He mumbles, "Can I go first hot stuff? I'll rock your world if you let me..." he's sexy, the way he husks his voice, lowering a sexy gaze.
To the right of him is Five, whose eyebrows are pinched with restraint, his eyes lock onto where Three's cock meets your pussy. He's also fully naked along with Three, Four's gorgeously tan body glimmers like a Greek God's.
You nod, "Yes. G-Go ahead, Hankk."
Three smiles, it is a delighted one that breaks his playboy persona. His fat head dribbles precum all over your labia, slapping and teasing your hole. The whole room was holding their breath, each Hank breaking for the moment Three will penetrate you. And all you could stare at was the two cocks right next to you, your mouth watering on who you choose first.
Pressure hits your hole, and in one second, Three's pushing inside.
"Woooaah."
"Dude!"
"Fuck me..."
An entourage of whelps leave the Hanks, as you feel Three take his hands off you. Your wetness takes him in quick, leaving lewd squelching behind, as you warm up his already piping hot dick. The space where you meet felt so full, so hot, so delicious, especially with how fat his cockhead was.
You shout in ecstasy, "H-Hank!"
They all cry in unison, "Yes?"
You groan out, "F-fuck me!"
That's all it takes for Three to get into overdrive, "Oh yeah, baby!" He starts thrusting in at a quick and hard pace, slamming into your body, milking out every erotic sound your pussy could think of. Your hungry mouth picked its choice, as your hand grabs One's base.
"Ff-- One, o-on your knees," you manage out. Still, both One and Four get on their knees. With One directly in line with your mouth, and Four more to the side of One, holding his friend's shoulders in anticipation.
"Dudeee," Four bark in encouragement.
"M-Me, really? T-Thanks darling," One gulps.
It's all feedback, as your lust takes over. You sink onto One's cock, trying your best to love him with your mouth under Three's bullying thrusts. Your sucks are interrupted by your own fierce moans, your suction sloppy, but the look on One's face is priceless. He looks like he's gonna blow any minute now. Blow so early.
Your eyes flicker to Four, as you grab his thick cock with one hand. "Damn! Duuudee," Four holds his head. You're too fucked out to do anything with his cock, so Four tightens his hand around yours, then fucks into your hand for you. "Hehe, you're too cute, panda," Four giggles out like a fanboy.
In an out-of-character fashion, you hear Five growls out, "C'mon take that shit." His hand raises and cracks on your ass, forcing you to choke on One.
"Hank Number Five," The Hanks exclaim in shock.
"G-Guys! What the hell! Be careful with her," Two is stammering, and his voice is heavy, painful, and thick.
Truth be told, you almost forgot he was back there, cold, waiting, watching over you.
You grip Three's cock at Two's works, forcing the redhead to moan out. "Princess likes you, Two," Three chuckles.
Two gulps, "R-Really?"
Five husks out, "She just gripped Hank when you spoke."
"A-Ah, cause of me?" Two gasps.
You hear One groan out, "Fuck I might b-bloww!"
"We know," The Hanks chant in unison.
"Why don't I kick this baby into high gear," Three mumble.
One slips out of your mouth as if to stop his orgasm prematurely. You try to turn to take Four in, but Three starts hammering you. Your face hits One's hip, and your hands fly forward in support. You need something to cling to, to grip, as each heavy, intense thrust breaks your mind.
"C-C'mere--" you shout out, and both One and Four flop onto their knees. Four grabs you, scooting in close, resting your head on his shoulder, as your hands grip and claw at his shirt.
"You okay, compadre," One asks, peeking over Four's shoulder, his hand petting your head.
Four chimes in, "He's getting radical, dude!"
You nod excitedly, sweat sticking your hair to your head.
"My-- hot cakes! Look b-behind you," Three grunts out.
You gaze over your shoulder to see Three. Both of his hands are behind his mop of red-haired, and his eyes are potent with bewitching lust, as he performs his horribly good thrusts. "I can do it with no hands baby," Three laughs.
"Fuccck! Haank," You're losing your mind.
Quickly, his eyes shot behind his lashes. "Oh-- ff, I'm gonna cum," Three gargles out.
The Hanks shout in unison, "We know!"
With one last mighty thrust, Three sprays your walls, burying balls deep into you. If he didn't object, you'd have to worry about pregnancy. Either way, you're happy you can have the fantasy now with them without the repercussions.
Five, once again, too wild for his own good, cracks your ass again, "Drink it up... That's it..."
"Good g-girl... So good f'me," Three says as he slides out.
Five is greedily beginning to take your ass when you suddenly call out. "W-Wait, hold on guys."
They all pause, looking at you, waiting for your instruction.
You flip onto your back, your head hitting Four's chest.
"What is it, panda," Four chimes.
You spread your legs, it's seductive, the way everyone (almost everyone) can see Three's cum spill out of your ass. You turn to Two, who squeaks, his face hot red. "C'mere, Two... Come take me," you smile kindly.
Two gulps, but he doesn't hold back anymore. Three and Five climbs out of the way, making room for Two as he sits between your legs, leaning down to gratefully kiss you. Tongues were exchanged before he patted with a hearty smack.
Two's gone mad, he stammers, "T-Thank you I-- I just I... I'm gonna eat it!"
All the Hanks shout in unison, "Radical!"
Two gets on his hands and knees, he's fervent like a dog, grabbing your thighs and sucking all of Three's cum out of your body. The sound is strong, and his suction game is strong.
"Dude... No way," you head Three gasps. Your eyes flicker over to him, and he is standing next to the bed, on the left side of Two. When he catches you staring, he throws a wink and a cute smile your way.
You giggle between a moan, as you glance over to Five. He's staring still at your pussy, as if entranced by your ass. His cock is a bright red, visibly throbbing, his cock was so hard that his head curved to kiss his stomach. Poor thing. You almost felt bad for him.
One brushes Hair out of your face with his hand, giving you a clear view of Two as you look down at him.
Two finishes sucking out every last drop, answer immediately gets started with a fat stripe. He licks and parts up your labia, determined to drink you up before you even fall, and then he takes your clit. The whole time you can hear how heavy his breath is, how he pants like a hungry dog. And once he latches onto your clit, there was no going back.
"Fu-- Ooh-- Mmn," you couldn't find anything to say as you threw your head back, ecstasy sparking from your clit and to your brain. You felt electric all over, bucking and squirming, drowning in Two's skillfulness.
"Gonnammff make youff, cum, dearestff," Two moans out. Your hands shoot and grab locks of his black hair, bucking, riding his mouth so disrespectfully. But with the way he was taking it, it fueled his ego.
"Dude.... I'm so hard," Four groans out above you. "We've never seen you so passionate, Two," he says.
"This is too hot, Hank," One mumbles out.
Three laughs, singing a song you haven't heard of, "I'm talking about inn it!"
"She looks so good," Five moans out, but you're not sure if he's talking about you or your pussy.
"I'm gonna- cum," Two shout against your labia.
The Hanks laugh at first, then in sync, they sing, "Wee know brochacho!!"
Two slide thick fingers into your wet pussy, thrusting along with every feisty tongue flick. It's enough to send you over the edge as you throw your head harshly back against Four, Your orgasm flushing over you hitting like a crate. Three and Five each grab your thighs, holding them apart so you don't crush Two in your essay. Two flips his head up from your pussy, his nose and chin wet with slick. He gasps excitedly, "You c-came first! Yess-- oh god," he isn't able to finish though, as he soaks his suit with his cum.
One pats your head, whispering sweetly so that only you could hear it, "You're doing so well... you're so pretty... so good... keep going... take us all." Fire erupts your loins. You'll take this challenge.
There is chatter around you, but you can barely focus on it. When you finally come to, you see the sight unfolding between your legs.
It's Five, getting between you with a dangerous look, as Two sits next to him, and Three keeps his position standing next to the bed. They are both scolding Five, Five drowns them out, just like you are. He narrows in close to you, looming over your body, slowing down time- speaking just to you. "I'm gonna breed you... I'm going to fuck you," he says as if no one else had already. "I'm gonna take my time, and no one else is gonna be able to touch you."
"Dude!"
"Five! What's going on with you!"
"No fair!"
The Hanks shout.
Five disregard them with a humored laugh. But he looks dead into your eyes again, laying his hand on your waist. "Will you let me, princess," Five doesn't break eye contact with you.
"Yess, as you wish, Hank," you moan out.
"That's my sweet girl," Five smiles. He is so pretty it enchants you. Five steals your lips, running an electric hand up and down your body. His kiss is passionate, and it's like now that he has you, he finally calms down. He parts your lips, wiping the string of saliva that connects you.
He grabs you by your waist, adjusting your, laying your head back against Four's shoulder, grabbing your hips, pushing his hips flush against you. Then, he grabs your legs, tossing them both together over his left shoulder. His left arm holds them together. You're folded like a sandwich between Four and Five, your eyes flicking to them both.
"Caaar-fulll," Two chimes, still crawling up close to see the magic happen. His hand is out, reaching for your leg.
"Don't touch, Two," Four mumbles. You glance at his face, as best as you can, watching the bright-eyed gleam in his eyes. He gulps as if he's watching something holy behold. And with the way the other Hanks are dead quiet, they feel the same. "I want Five to dom-min-nate," Four pops every word out in a sing-song chant. "It's gonna get wicked! I'm soo hard right now, panda." He rushes the last sentence out under his breath.
Your arm slides up, wrapping loosely around Four's neck and head for stability. "You'll get your turn soon, Four," you whisper under your breath, only for him to see. He groans happily in your ear.
Five steals your attention when his long cock, far longer than One's begins to kiss your hole. There's no resistance as it slips in, and adverse to Two's fingers or Three's fat head, he shoots deep and far within you, hitting you in your womb, his head far in your belly. Intact, his tip meets your cervix perfectly. Perfect, as his cock pops out of your tummy, leaving a sexy bump.
"No way!" Four shouts, and he practically mars your eardrum.
"I wanna see," Two whines as he picks over Five's shoulder. "Gnarly," he swallows thickly. When you look over, Three's walked over too, looming over Five's left shoulder with widened eyes.
Damn! Everyone was watching!
Five begins to thrust, hitting your cervix almost every time. You jerk at the foreign feeling as if there was a wall within u getting reached. Every thrust had the wall shaking, the softness of his head cushioned the impact, making waves of electricity spark out in your body. And Five wasn't playing fair either. He thrusts all the way in briskly but sold out deathly slow.
Your eyes rolled back every time he pulled his way out, playing with your stretched-out hymen, watching you light up when he plunged right in. Your pussy loved it, how it sang out, how everyone went quiet to watch and to hear you. He was so deep you could feel him in your tummy, moving everything around, causing butterflies to build.
And oh were you loud.
"Brooo Five- C'mon Five don't milk your turn. I'm leakin' over here," Four exclaims, grabbing his hair in anticipation.
"Yeah, man you're taking too long," Three steps in. Three reaches over, his fingers pinch Five's left nippled. Five gasps sharply, thrust jaggedly within you on accident. "Never said we couldn't touch you, amigo," he grins seductively.
Two rushes over, his fingers stealing, and teasing Five's right nipple.
"We know this makes you haywire," Two whispers.
They both twist and pull at him out of sync, one precise when the other's soft, one rubbing when the other pulls and flicks. Five's face gets hot, his grip on you weakening. "Sorry- gang," Five manages out from deep pants.
"Well? What are you waiting for," Four shouted enthusiastically.
"Pound that pussy," they all holler in unison.
"N-No way," you manage out.
They all dart eyes at you. "Want us to stop," they ask.
You shout, "Don't!"
With your okay, Five picks up tremendous speed, he's not as fast as Three, but he makes quick work of you. The main difference is how he finds your cervix every damn thrust, how he folds you forward a little, your thighs putting pressure all on your bladder. Your toes squeeze, you hold back the urge to squirt, and it's all way too hard with how the Hanks began to chant.
"Cum! Cum! Cum! Cum," They chant. It affects Five greatly, getting sloppy, his eyes are behind his head, and his chest twitching for more nipple play.
And in one strained mewl, "I'm cuuming," he slams against your cervix one final time, grinding down deep into your ass as he splatters straight into your womb. The sensation is heavenly, your legs shake, a shiver curling down your back.
"Nice homie! Wicked," The Hanks shout.
You're light-headed, even as the orgasm fades, even as your legs are laid back down. Two notices, crawling right over. "Wanna take a break? Eat some lunch, water--?"
"Yes-- please," you swallow thickly.
--
Lunch was over. And there was a standoff happening between Hank number One, and Hank number Four.
You were seated by the pillows on your bed, arms folded, legs crossed a stern and serious look on your face to heighten the occasion.
"I knew it would come to this, number Four," One puffs out his chest.
Both the boys are sitting crisscross on the bed in front of you, holding out their hands for the greatest challenge of all time.
Rock-Paper-Scissors.
In the back were the other Hanks, Five was sitting on your dresser next to the bed, shirtless. Meanwhile, Two and Three stood in the back, at the foot of your bed. They were stern, serious, ready.
"I'm totally gonna win bro," One chimes.
"Hehe yeah... I'm not good at this game," Four giggles. "But that's okay, I'm cool with waiting."
One is touched, his eyes growing teary, "Really bro?"
"Of course dude!"
"I would feel the same if I lost man. I j-just-- I love you guys," One gasps.
"We love you too," you all shout back at him.
"Now! Let the games begin, boys," You command.
One immediately narrows his eyes, readying up his power fists. Four gulps, biting his lips nervously. "Bro-- I-- I think I might pick rock-- I'm gonna pick rock," Four shouts prematurely.
"Dude! I don't think you're supposed to say that," One creaks nervously.
"Oh-- shit! Uhh uh," Four stammers.
One says, "Let's just start okay? Rock-Paper-"
"Scissors-- Sh--"
Time seems to slow down for one, as he stares at the hands laid out. Four was not going to pick rock, he announced it already. So. That only left Paper or scissors. Four must be going for paper!
With his decision made, "Shoot!" One slams down Scissors.
"Ooohhh," The Hanks shout.
He opens his eyes to find.
Hank number Four had chosen.
Rock.
One grabs chunks of his locs, "What!"
"I panicked I got nervous," Four grabs his mop of curly blond hair.
Three laughs, gripping One's shoulders, "You lost bro!"
Five giggles from the dresser, slapping his thigh comically.
"Eeh it's alright One, The last is always the best," Two giggles.
Four suddenly gasps, you can see the gears turning in his head, "Oh wait-- I won? Haha! Panda, I won! Wait... Is this turn out okay with you cause... Cause... I've got this secret fetish and uh..."
You all shout, "Spill!"
"Well," Four pauses, turning to you at the head of the bed, crawling close. "Well, I uh... I've always wanted to do anal..." he shyly scratches the back of his head.
"Anal-?!"
"Bro you've never told us," Two gasps.
Five shakes his head, "Was this because of that dream we had a few months ago?"
"Hehe yeah. In the one where Three was doing anal with panda bear," Four shyly giggles.
"You guys had a dream like that," you swallow thickly.
Three laughs, "Yeah... It was good, baby."
You bite your lip, looking away in thought. You speak, "Well. I've never done anal before..."
"Don't worry, We'll put in the proper care and safety to ensure this will be a good experience for you," One beams.
Two nods, "Safety first!"
"Alright. Hankie... You're getting your wish," you smile.
"Shreddin'," Four beams.
-
You were so anxious, laying on your back, spread wide in the middle of the bed. You all had just finished prep, and the Hanks split off the bed to give you space. It was only Four, Two, and Three who stayed close, each trying to keep an eye on things. Four was naked, finally, his tan skin gorgeous under the evening light, his bouncy curls to die for. He had a condom over his thick, fat dick, and lube in his hand.
To the right of you, next to your head was Two, who gave you a proud thumbs up. "I'll be here if you get scared-- or if it hurts, just let me know," he smiles, his cute obsidian eyes stealing you away.
"You got this, sonr sweat it," Five calls to you.
"Thanks, guys," you swallow thickly.
Four looms over your body, flashing you that toothy smile. "I'm gonna be slow, panda-baby," he whispers. His lips pepper your cheek and forehead before he steals your lips. The kiss is sweet and gentle, it's you who adds spice as you slip your tongue in, licking up the gap in his teeth.
"Sshit, radical," he pulls out the kiss, his lips finding your sweet nipples.
You won't believe it.
You finished pleasuring three Hanks. Now, you're on your fourth.
The day is still young.
You've got one more left.
What's worst, you're still deathly horny.
These boys were corrupting you.
He plays with your breasts, flickering your nipples, sucking sweetly on them. Then part to do a trail of kisses down your tummy. He leans up, and his cock hits your fully prepped ass. You grab his hair, "Whooa--" Yanking him by his golden curls to your mouth.
He hums delightfully, kissing you sweetly as his head presses against your entrance. He slips in by little, the feeling is completely foreign. His thickness seems to pressure your vaginal walls, the wall between your vagina and ass is thin, thunder enough for the pressure to subtly stimulate your vagina. You gasp sharply.
Panick interrupts the room, "What is it homie," they holler.
Four stammers, "Need me to stop?"
You blink, "N--nouh... Its nothing... S-Safe word is uhh... Feather."
They chant, "Okay!"
Four seems so hesitant to continue, but you pull his lips back down to yours, reassuring him. He takes you nicely, pushing his fat, average-sized thickness deep into your body. Your ass sings out, squelching on mountains of lube. Once he was fully in, you could feel your vagina walls seem to kiss, laying flat against each other. The sensation is foreign, foreign enough to force a deep, thick moan out of you.
"'M thrust now, panda bear," Four mumbles.
You nod, and he starts a slow pace, enough for you to see what you're getting into without committing to it. Your head flies back, your grip on his shoulders growing deadly.
It didn't feel bad.
It felt so damn strange.
But it wasn't bad.
You needed more, more to tell if you liked it, you ran a hand down Four's chest, "M-more- hankie."
His face heats, a twitch flipping in him; he starts really thrusting in, and Hank number Four likes it hard. He fucked into you like he meant it, holding back, but the drool on his lips showed he wanted it rougher. Your holes clench one around his cock, the other around itself, and your legs wrap vice around his hips. From here, like this your pussy was getting stimulated, and you slowly began to let go of Four's shoulders, he leaned back upright, holding your hips, his face red hot, mouth agape, moans trailing out.
"Let me find-- it," Four groans. He slams into you, angling his head up words, it's sharp at first, it hurts but as he pulls out the pain melts into pleasure. Confusion struck your brain as he thrust in again, only this time, he struck your bladder, all the way from your ass.
Your back arches off the bed, your toes curling drool falling out the corners of your lips. "No-- Way! What's tha-- ooh fuck," you mewl.
"That's your g-spot, homie," Three laughs delightedly.
One gasp, "He's stimulating your g-spot from your ass."
"This is so hot," Five swallows thickly.
"G-Gnarly," Four moans out, his eyes squeezing tight, as he drops his head back slightly. His thrusts are precise, and relentless on your spot. Your vagina sparks, clit throbbing. This feeling is so nice but, it could be better-- maybe if... Maybe if one joined you.
No way, you're not ready for it.
Absent-minded lying, your fingers trail to your clit.
"I'm on it," Two and Three both shout and before you know it, the redhead and the raven that are on the palms, leaned over to lick your clit. Their heads bump, and it catches you off guard in a laugh that turns into a deep, moan.
"Hey! Me first," Three gulps.
"No way, I'm better at it," Two growls.
"Just take turns man," Five speaks.
Three winks at you, spreading your legs out wide, and burying his face where Four's abdomen hits your ass. His lips greedily flick and suck at your clit, the sensation of his beard hair drives you mad. You cry out, sparks shooting to your mind. You're going crazy. Two crawls up, his cute face beaming as he sucks on your tit, flickering and playing with your other nipple the way he handled Five.
"Homies I'm gonna cuuum," Four moans. He bites his lips intensely. "It -- suh'good... s'good!"
"We know," they cheerfully chant.
It was like the words, Three and Four locked in. Four slams into your spot roughly, turning into some sort of animal, setting off fireworks, while Three sucks at you like a wild man, not caring how Four's body slaps his cheek for every thrust.
You couldn't control yourself, you squirted out. It was addictive, you were going crazy. Your pussy was leaking all over, your orgasm coming sharp.
"Wa-- Wait-- Three- I don't wanna cum yet," you slobber. You had to save your energy for One.
Three pulls back, biting his lips, "Oh? You like that hot stuf--"
Four shouts, "Gonna blow!" He pulls all the way out, jerking his cock above you, aiming hot shots right onto your belly. "Rrr--uhh radicall," he grunts out erotically.
You gasped and groaned out, holding your head, confusion and excitement in your brain. There's this buzz as all the Hanks rush over to the bed, ogling you. It's all toned out for a moment in your ecstasy, but when you come too a second later, Three is licking the cum off your stomach.
"How was it," they all ask. Four grab locks of his blonde curls in anticipation.
"I-- I think we need to try it again but," you're too shy to put up the words, so you raise two fingers and then join them by a third.
Three gasps out, "Double stuffed!"
Four cries out as if he's lost his mind. He barks, "O-ray-o Cookies with Extra Thick Filling!"
One chimes in, "A sandwich, amigo!"
Two shakes his head, "Nono- you're still an amateur you're not ready yet!"
Three grins, biting his lip. "I'd be happy to be your third, hot stuff. If you want me," he spoke.
"Some other time," you swallow thickly, wiping the sweat from your forehead.
"Came out a change woman, princess," Five leans over and kisses your forehead. "I'm proud of you for doing this with us..."
Your eyebrows pinch in annoyance, "You talk like it's over. I still need one more," you bite your lips, seductively pushing yourself up onto your elbows. You part your legs out wide for all the Hanks to see, your body's all stretched out all over, and they bite their lips. You're erotic.
"C'mere baby," you wink.
"Ooooohhhh," the room erupts with whoops.
You extend a sexy finger forward pointing straight at one. You're sure if he could, he'd be blushing right now. He gulps. You curve your finger, beckoning him over.
"Y-Yes ma'am," he gulps.
The Hanks cheer, "The Final Hank!"
Three bites his lips, "The first shall be last and the last shall be first!"
Four's eyebrows furrow in confusion, "Wait... But... That's not how it happened though..."
"It's a saying," Two chuckles.
"Brodies, he's walking over," Five squeaks in excitement.
One crawls over to you, his face is shy and nervous, but he can't help but have a charming smile. Your arms slip around his shoulders, and he picks you up into his lap. His skin is so warm, warm as he embraces you, as he slots your hips into his, closing the space, his cock against your swollen clit. He murmurs, "You're always so pretty."
"Thanks, Hank," you lean in for a kiss, and it smacks heartedly.
"I don't want too much from you... If it's okay, I just wanna do this," he leans back a little, and you follow his lead, as he pours lube over his cock, then pulls you so your clit is back flush against his cock. You bite your lip, straddling him on each side, preparing to ride. "Wanna make you cum," One whispers.
His warm hands lovingly slide up your waist and hips, as you begin to grind and slide up against him, your clit throbbing, rubbing it against his hot, skinny dick. His hands grip your ass, squeezing it tight. He was so kind, not wanting to penetrate you, but instead gazing deep into your eyes, grinding into you as you slid up and down him.
You can't look away the moment is too sweet.
You've somehow fallen deeper in love with the Hanks, all of them. All of their subtle differences in personalities, the way they fuck, the way they are. Their union, their brotherhood.
You take One's lips, hands sliding up in his hair, adoring the way he cages you safe in his strong arms.
You feel the bed shift behind you, and your hands slide up and down your back. There are lips against your ear, "Thanks, thanks a lot for this," Number Two mutters. He starts to pepper kisses on your back and neck, briefly, gently, and playfully nipping your neck.
"I love you, Hanks," you sigh.
"We love you too," they cheer sweetly. They take the words as their welcoming to all come close. Five reaches over to pet your head, flashing that cute, gentle smile your way. The weight on the bed shifts on your right, and there is Three, flashing you a seductive wink as he lies on his side, watching the action unfold. And just beside him with Four, who shared a puppy dog look.
Your eyebrows pinch, putting against One's cock was getting to you.
"Gonna cum, hot stuff," Three asks.
You nod sharply, burying your head into One's neck. He whispers in your ear, "Go ahead, cum, honeypie." One's voice is smooth. You take his advice, bucking and putting into his sweet cock, toes clenching before a soft, slow orgasm washes over you.
Your body relaxes completely in One's hold, as Two rubs careful hands up your body. Three speaks, "Brought you water and a cleanup towel, sweetie."
Four speaks, "Yeah, we'll take care of you for the rest of the day. You focus on recovery, homie!"
Five, who still pets your head lovingly, asks, "Want that water now, princess?"
-
The aftercare is sweet. All hands were on you, along with sweet praises and excited, accomplished laughter. The evening was winding late, and the six of you tuned in for bed, knowing soon, the dateviator charge would run out. Only more motivation to work hard and realize them soon.
The hanks and you were cuddled up for bed, with two behind you, spooning you. And five laying on his back next to you, your arms wrapped around one of his, as you mindly rubbed your face against him. One and Three were engrossed in convo at the end of the bed, and Four found laying in between your legs most comfortable.
And with droopy eyes, you looked at them all, savoring their image before you were forced to fall into a deep sleep.
Me staring at the unfinished 5,000+ word fic in my drafts of the Hanks from DE going through a fem reader like a train, one after the other................................. ALL FIVE GET A TURN
I'm finally on the last hank......................... its almost done
syn: you fucked up. you weren't careful with skip's feelings and a misunderstanding tore you two apart. the distance drives you mad, gets you lonely, gets you pent up for his touch. but you're not the only one who feels that way. infact, the night stalks, waiting for the time to strike- waiting to be in your hot walls again.
tags: hate sex, dubcon, monster-fucking, degrading language, gender-neutral reader, ghost fucking, sado-masochism, bottom reader, not beta read
an: for everyone who didn't mean to mess up ur relationship with skips this is for you.
He hates you.
That's the last thing your love, Skips, the shadow-lord, ever told you. The last malicious words, he made it stick to you like glue, and he stood on it. So you honored it. You didn't go to see Skips or well, "Omega", just as he wanted. You didn't go to see him not even after the distance killed you on the inside.
You didn't want to lose your humanity, but you couldn't promise to always be around the way he wanted.
It seemed like a fair and easy decision for him, after all, he was stuck in that little void. All alone. For how long?
Nothing was secure, nothing promised to him.
But still. It hurts.
You wanted a compromise, remind him that you can still visit as a human, but the words didn't articulate that way.
You lay awake, the cat clock beside you ticking while the stir of midnight crickets sang their songs from the windows behind you. It was pitch black in the room, dark enough for you to forget your eyes were open every now and again. Your bed was surprisingly cold, the temperature in the room dull. It was an abnormal night, for such an abnormal day. You were spacing out all day while talking to your "housemates", and it was Tyrell who recommended some good sleep to you.
Yet, you couldn't sleep.
You flop over onto your back and kick the covers off you, hating the cold but you like the subtle pain of goosebumps spreading across you. You felt as if you deserved it. Deserved it? No. It was a misunderstanding.
It was only that.
Without thinking, your voice trails off into the night, "Skips." Your whisper sounds so small in the open air. The fondest twinkle of him crosses your mind, it's him calling you that cute nickname. You chuckle out, "Penumbra."
Your hand ran up to your heart. "He called me penumbra... Skips did," you mumble. You're talking to yourself now, you know you need it. "His penumbra... I've never heard that before. It was so unique. So cute."
Your hands run down to your ribcage shivers dancing down your arms. You laugh bittersweet, "He had cute glowy cheeks and sweet hair. Reminded me of those 2000s emo boys... Just my type." Your heart was racing, remembering those pitch eyes that greeted you in the dark. Remembering those shadowy hands that dusted your figure.
You swallow thickly, the cold forcing you to shake. You were too cold.
But for some reason.
Your hands were beginning to slip below.
"And the way he spoke. It was always," Your breath hitches. Your hands stopped by your belly, but you could feel the slow lull and pulse of your sex. You quietly cry out, arching into the air, feeling the sensation fade into nothing.
"Maybe my body is... Still reacting to you, Skips... Still reacting, everywhere you touched," your hands slide up to your lips, pressing your fingers into the flesh. Your arousal was budding into the air, as you grew more turned on by the second.
And you swear you swear you felt your sex stimulated yet again. You buck and moan, lifting your hips off the bed, the sensation of fire spreading in the nerves of your sex sending electric alerts to your brain. Alerts of confusion, of need. And just as it fades, you fall back. You gasp out, gasping as if your soul was taken from you.
What was going on with you?
You stammer, quickly slipping under the covers, shivering, laying flat on your sides with your arms folded. "I can't... If I masturbate to him, right now... Like this... I'll get hooked. I won't stop-- I won't stop thinking about him... I can't change his mind I have to..."
You trail off as you feel that familiar, odd spark, it stroked you again. Stimulating you, making your body burn, making you moan out as you grip the sheets and arch your back. "Mmggf," you try to stifle your moans, but it's no use.
Force, pressure, it generates between your legs, strong enough to no longer be from some phantom memory. It's strong, intense, stimulating you the way someone would rub your sex- with intent, with incision.
You spread your legs willingly, still resting on your left side as you lift your right leg into the air. The sensation of pressure turned into a hand- one with sharp claws, one that scratched the inside of your thighs as it pawed at your shorts.
"F-fuck-- no way," you groan picking your head up from the pillows, staring at the spot between your legs. It was too dark to see anything, but you could hear the rustling of your shorts as you were stroked dutifully. "B-Betty? Ffuck," you groan out, rocking into the hands.
A misty pressure tickles your ear, "Don't call me that."
Shivers rumbles down your spine.
"You know I'm not Betty," it hissed with anger. Anger of being mistaken, but also laced with prior, hidden malice.
You knew the voice.
Just didn't want it to be true.
What this meant.
Hands slide under your shorts, past your underwear, and phase through the fabric. Pressure greets your hole, and you whimper, needy, frustrated tears already beginning to build in your eyes. "Mmh-gy- no way," you moan blissfully.
"Shadows are all around you. Wearing skimpy underwear like this cast a shadow over your, pretty parts," his voice is angry. For every husky breath, you can tell, he's still angry.
It's not about being mistaken for someone.
A finger slips inside you, or at least what feels like a finger, and it lovingly massages your walls. It's hot and warm, and you slip onto your stomach. Despite this, the finger is still squirming inside, spreading you out invasively. "Aahf- fuck me- fuck me," you whine. Your heart is racing, your sex is leaking. You rise upright on your knees, holding onto your bed frame, facing the curtains, arching almost beautifully for your enemy.
The little finger grows larger, wider, and longer, stretching you out profoundly, taking shape to have a juicy thick head and a handsome girth. You know what this is- whose this belongs to. It's Skip's cock, manifesting in the shadows that hide your walls. Your head is growing heavy, perked ass locked into a trained, needy position. "S-Skips-- baby," you groan.
Hands manifest on your hips-- actual real hands with no doubts about it. The bed creaks beneath you, as a weight joins you by your legs. It's his legs, and with a rumble, you know he's dropped his vengeful ghost act and is truly behind you. Despite all of his manifesting, his hips aren't. They are touching your ass, they are behind you burying his cock into you.
And as you buck back, you don't feel the cushion of his body, but the air. Anger, and frustration, take you in one fell swoop. "Dammit Skips, stop playing with me," you curse. You pull down your shorts aggressively, and luckily, he manifests fully, his hips touching your ass, his cock growing hot, warm- alive. You moan out blissfully, "Yess... yes baby..."
He hisses, and this time his real voice growls out, "I don't ever remember giving you permission to call me that." He says it, but his human fleshy hands are on you, he says that but it's his human voice that reigns behind you. He skips right now, yet he scolds you.
But you're not allowed to speak, as he finally begins to thirst inside you. Your sex squelches and sings out, his thrusts are paced slowly, pushing himself all the way in, loving the way your ass hits his hips and how he fights to pull himself out when he's already so deep. When your walls don't want him to leave.
"Mmff, s'good," Skips moans out.
You mumble out between moans, "You--ff you nnh still m-aad?"
"Of course I am-- you betrayed me-- y-you made your choice," he grunts. He picks up speed, holding your hips as if they were a vice.
"F-forgive me, baby, forgive me," you stammer out.
He moans sharply, sliding hands around your chest and pulling you in close. Your back meets his chest, it's warm, making your heart flutter. He thrusts slowly again as if he's savoring the moment. "What are you looking at," he hisses, grabbing your chin and turning you to face him.
You can make out his features now, he's close, and he hungrily takes your lips. His hands run down and back over your body, touching and groping everything, leaving no stone unturned as he fucks you all slowly.
"S-Shadowlordd," you mewl, shaking in fervent possession.
He pants, eyebrows pinching in frustration. "I also-- ffuck-- never told you to call me that eiither," he grunts. "F-fuck-- fuck you're so hot inside. You're so warm. You're squeezing me so good, pn-- hhmn... Shit."
You squeeze around his pulsating cock.
He gasps sharply. And in a second, hot seed spills inside you. His breath hitches, head leaning desperately against yours as he shoots his loads inside. They spray your walls so lovely, making you stickier, and wetter. He buries himself almost balls deep to deliver his seed, and if he weren't a shadow, you'd think he was trying to breed you.
You laugh, "You can't seem to make up your-- mind Skips. You don't do anything... Nothing but you want it... Nothing except I m-make you feel like you're in heaven... You came so quick... You pent-up?"
He melts into your neck, kissing and sucking the skin. His right hand slides up to barrage your nipple, and his left crawls down, playing with your sex.
"Penumbra," he groans.
Your heart flutters.
"Gonna m-make you cum now, my-- penumbra," he swallows as if he's drooling, his voice turning vulnerable and needy. As if he needs you to cum right now, begging for it with every voice crack. He thrusts again, fucking you like he's making love, all while sucking and kissing your neck.
You jerk and call out, your voice vibrating against walls, stealing the space. You're so loud you don't even know what to do with yourself. Loud as you choke on Skip's name, in harmonic wanton with the sloppy sounds of his cock feeding you. Wanton to the smack off his hips bouncing off your ass, as if his skin and strong bones were giving you a kiss.
And how he played with your sex as if he were mad, fervent, mad, and greedy. Greedy for someone who hated you.
"C-cuh-cumming," you somehow manage out a word.
"Cum- cum- cuum. Cuum penumbra," he's sucking and kissing your earlobe, fucking you stronger, harsher, sloppier with all disregard. He was going to cum again, his voice spiked high.
Your orgasm hit your body like a train, how he forced it out of you with nimble thrusts, milked it out long and tuff with selfish grunts, only to spill hot, fiery seed into you once more. Having it glutinously pour out of you, spilling and dribbling down his heavy balls.
There's no time for anything, as he steals your lips, sucking your tongue, tasting and sculpting your mouth with his own. You break part with a pant, "Souh- needy--" but your words don't matter, as he crashes lips onto you again, possessive hands locked in place around your body.
He breaks the steamy, needy kiss. He sits back on his ass, holding your hips down on his cock. He groans in your ear, "Ride me like you want it."
A switch flips in you. You're riding him, fucking down onto him at an intense pace. Out the gate you fucking him wild, loving how your body tingled in overstimulation, how together- you made the cold, dull room hot, sweaty- wild. Chasing the feeling of your brain melting away, living for the loud, reassuring moans that drown out Skip's body. Too bad for any objects who wanted good sleep tonight.
You were fucked out of your mind, holding in his cum like a factory, as every thrust felt like a sharp firework until your premature, overstimulation orgasm.
You twitch on his body, falling back against his chest as your toes curl, and drool dribbling out your mouth with a mewl. The lewd face, the sound, you force him into his final orgasm, hearing him grunt out like an animal, draining his balls of all they had.
You sat like that, groaning and grunting at each other, gripping and holding each other, panting, kissing.
"Wanna breed you-- Wanna make you all mine. You're not going away-- y'not leaving me, penumbra. My penumbra," his hands slap your thighs, as you grind down on the warm rod that connected your souls.
"I'm not going anywhere. I don't ever wanna. I'm never leavin'," you mewl.
"But you will. You will in the morning," his chin is against your ear, his lips against your hair.
"And I'll come right back. We'll figure it out together. Only if you trust me, you help me," you butter out. "I love you... Give us another chance?"
He fidgets, he can't resist.
"Alright... Enjoy my mercy. Savor the redemption," he whispers into your ears, seductively holding every letter. He kisses you there hotly, hands finding their way to swirling your nipples.
You ask, "M-more?" He slots in place in front of you.
syn: cuddling with timothy, watching the time go by
tags: pet play, fluff, no timmy, not betaread
Running hands through Timothy's pretty black hair, listening to his sweet, content purrs as a clock ticked on. It smelled of early morning sunshine, complimented by the soft, plush pillows you laid on.
"Timothy," you croak out, your voice morning and groggy.
His ears flicker at the sound, his paws in the pillows, tail swaying beneath the sheets. He looks at you with button eyes, a purr on his lips, "Yess?"
Your hands caress his tan cheeks. You scoot close to him, noses soon to touch. The bed is hot between the warmth of you too, and hot with the distant memory of the night before. Your lovely date with Timothy. He relaxed up on his schedule to give you a fancy, late-night London-themed dinner. And the night ended with fervent, passionate love-making. Timothy, of which, loved your body with a greedy tongue, and spontaneous hands.
It was perfect.
You've never felt connected to another.
And here, you spent sweet mornings snuggling up close, sharing the same solitary breath. Your hand trails down to his waist. Timothy turns onto his side, and you take the time to caress up his side and to down his warm chest. He sighs in contentment, flopping onto his back, his cute hands guiding yours to his belly.
"I trust you will not overstay this welcome," he purrs smartly.
You giggle, rubbing slow circles onto the soft, plush skin, his happy trail brushed in every pet. He folds his hands into paws on his chest, a delighted giggle escaping him. You cuddle uo close, resting your head on his shoulder, burying your nose against his neck, your legs going to meet his beneath the covers. "How long do I have," you hum.
"Precisely 15 seconds! Before my... Instincts kick in," he chimes.
You laugh, "I like it when you're wild."
"Ooh that I know dear... You've shown- nay- told- or well... Shouted quite a bit about it last night," he cooes. It's deathly seductive.
"T-Timothy," you gulp, "You bad boy."
Little claws press into your hands. You pout. "Time's up?" You ask. Looking up, you see Timmy's blown out eyes turned narrow and sharp, his tail making a playful thumping next to you.
You drum you fingers on his tummy, his sharp eyes flying to the movement, pupils dilating, ears laying flat. You drum your fingers again, this time quicker than the last, watching his cut face as he absent mindly bared teeth. You jerked your had quickly again, straight into the air, and Timothy caught it, bring your hand to his lips, were his sharp claws pin you, and your fingers meet his teeth as he nibbles on the skin.
You laugh, "Ow! Oww... Ow." You thought making soft whines would persuade his mercy, but he continued to nip your skin- delicately. Suppose it was your fault, not heading his, albeit very cute, warning.
When he's done making his art on you, your hand is released, and it flops down on his sternum where his heartbeat tickles your fingertips.
"Ouchhh," you whine again, throwing him big eyes.
He shifts in the bed, only to kiss your head tenderly. "I am not sorry. It is what happens when you--"
"Disobey time and strict schh'eduling," you whisper.
He smiles contently, "I have taught you well, my minutes."
"Minutes?" You ask.
He perks shyly, "I thought it would be cute. You are the one I long to spend my minutes with. As precious as time!"
Your chest gets warm, blood rushing to your face. "Aw... Timothy... You're so cute," you giggle.
"A-hee... Well. I'm glad. I try to be romantic... I've been learning from Dante, you see," He chuckles.
You sit upright, and his eyes flicker to your naked chest, while your hands rest on his body. "Learning from quite the master, Timothy..."
His eyes lid over. He purrs, "Do you quite enjoy this?" His hands slide up to your nipples.
You bite your lip, "But of course, my hours."
The rest of the day was spent in such a lazy way with Timothy, cuddling up close, enjoying fleeting moments as time ticked away. Moments you wouldn't exchange for the world.
You've found yourself in the most peculiar yet arousing situation.
Your legs are spread wide, your right leg over Betty's shoulder, left leg over Timothy's as they stare at your sex with greedy eyes. You stare down at them, half taken aback by how they are both on their hands and knees on the plush bed. Betty's gorgeous tits kiss against the sheets, her hand stroking your thigh, seductive hazed over eyes glaring at you with watery juicy lips.
Timothy, on the other hand, paws and kitten licks your thigh, his raven tail curling and swaying with all the playfulness in the world. He wants to rush you, he wants you to pick him. With his saucer eyes, black little dew drops with flickers of yellow, pleading with you to pick him.
You reach down, grab the back of his head, and push him into your sex. "Purrfect," he mewls, using that obnoxious tongue of his to devour you like kittens to milk.
"Oh, c'mon, big boy," Betty purrs, leaning in close to his ears, which flicker when her lips touch the fur. "Save some for me." Her free hand drums down his back, forcing him to shiver.
You moan out, at how he skillfully sculpts you, his horny saucer eyes switching from your glaze to Betty's, feeling cornered between two beasts. Betty's breath is heavy as she bites her lip, "Can't wait any longer." Betty dives into you, flattening her tongue into a thick stripe. She licks you up in one fell swoop, your sex hot from arousal, and the heat of both their hungry mouths.
You moan out, but she doesn't stop, almost taking control over pleasuring your sex. She takes the grounds, leaving Timothy to lick up the rest. The room begins to fill with delicious, sloppy sounds. Her eyes were drowning in lust, and her pretty face flushed red, but in every move she was confident. The sight was sharp, watching her suck you as if you were a treat.
Timothy was slowly moaning out for every lick. He's greedy, but remaining docile. His wide eyes match his lowered ears, stress, and neediness. With every desire he wants to paw at his pants, have you alone. Yet here Betty is, interrupting the schedule.
But he'll allow it, after all, his darling was about to cum.
You brace yourself on thin air as your orgasm washes over you. Timothy watches with observant, blissful eyes. But he's barely able to before Betty's hand slides up the back of his head, fisting back locks between her fingers. His ears shot forward, "Ahhg! B-Betty."
"Just gonna keep watching, little kitty," she asks him, licking her lips of your juices. Timothy's lips shine similarly in the mixture of spit and you.
He's shy, stuttering out, "N-No. Of course not. The next activity on my intercourse schedule--"
"Schedule? Maybe you need a little liberating from it, Timothy… Come out and play," she purrs out. She's irresistible; she takes up the space; it's hers. Before you know it, Timothy has fallen victim to it, limp in her hold, needy, greedy lips parting, eyes lidding to taste her tongue. They meet; their kiss is fierce, with Betty leading and Timothy following her every sway.
She parts the kiss, "Are you a bad kitty?"
"Y-Yes… I am a b-bad kitty," Timothy mewls, eyes shaded over. His hands grab at her shoulders, trying to pull her back to him. "I-im a bad kitty... s-so kiss me," he hushes. Their lips crash again, and you're there in shock. Your hands are traveling all over your body, pleasuring yourself in the right places, quiet moans as you watch the show.
Betty has one hand on his cheek, the other trailing down his back to his tiny waist. He shivers once, his tail whipping up then swimming a sultry sway. Then, he shivers again, except this time, his tail puffs, darting straight up. He yelps suddenly, "Oh Dear! My scheduling! Its ru--mmgg!" But he's cut off by himself, biting his lips as black eyes roll to the back of his head, "Nyaaa."
Betty pulls away, eyebrows pinching in concern. "Are you alright Timot--"
In an instant, he pounces on her with a catty smile, and they crash into the space next to you as you dart upright. Timmy grins as he rubs his face into Betty's breasts, purring out sweetly. "Timmy will show you both what a bad kitty is," he barks out. He is all toothy. And before anyone could laugh at his ridiculousness, Timmy stands on business.
He steals Betty's lips, interrupting the kiss with bites and nips. Sucking down on her tongue, while his paws undress her top. Her breasts bounce out, and he is no stranger to inviting his kitten licks downstairs to tease and play. Betty moans out, her sound rich and vital.
You creep up behind them, grabbing Timmy's tail, his ass brushing your crotch. He perks and arches back into you, finally breaking his barrage to look back at you with a sexy-over-the-shoulder glare. "Is master pleased with Timmy," he asks, perking his ass into you.
You grunt in disbelief.
"He's out of control," Betty moans, her voice drowning in light giggles.
"Nyaa," Timmy mewls in agreement.
You hook your hands around his dress paints, slipping them off him along with his boxers. His cute, tan ass greets you first above anything, and it's groped thoroughly. "Master," he whispers to you as he takes in Betty's lips.
You crack your hand on his cheek, watching his tail stiffen and sway. How he yelps and breaks his kiss. And with entitled eyes, he glares back at you. "Hey," he barks.
Betty giggles, rising free from beneath him, her hand petting his soft head. "I've got an idea," she hums.
🕙🛏
It's a pretty sight. Your fingers are deep in Timmy's ass, fingertips curving against his sweet spot, freehand stretched over to slowly stroke his leaky, horny cock. His little paws are on either side of Betty's thighs, his head pushed into Betty's pussy.
The sound of his strong, fervent slurps fills the room, only interrupted by his sharp mewls and Betty's tender groans. Her hands play in his hair, tickling his ears, her curves out in display, her voluminous breasts with large pink nipples are out wonderfully, covered in hickeys from Timmy's catfight.
"Timothy was such an obedient kitty," you strike his spot, giving his sensitive head a loving tandem squeeze.
Timmy wails, the sound muffled by her juicy, wet box. His tail curves longingly around your arm. You've been edging him, forcing him to push Betty to her high like a sex toy. His eyes are teary, ecstasy in every breath of his. He's a bad, evil kitty, he does what he wants.
And with teary eyes he stares up at Betty as he delivers on the best head, leaking more and more for every erotic expression that crosses her face. Her grip on his hair tightens, and his tail begins to quiver and shake. He's going to cum.
"Aah… Mmh, a-amazing," Betty arches forward, pushing her big clit into Timmy's flickering tongue. He made her clit swollen and fat, throbbing, the echos of his tongue still lingering on her nub.
Timmy's denied yet another orgasm, and with a wail, he pops off Betty's sweetness. "Nyou-no fair master. No fair," he commands. He pushes himself onto your fingers, his tail quivering. "Mmhm, Timmy like this," he moans, as he slowly fucks himself on your fingertips.
"Bad Timmy," you scold and hold his ass in place.
"Timmy will only pleasure Betty if Master pleases Timmy! Timmy has been good," he growls, baring his teeth.
"Cant-uh… tame this one, baby," Betty pants. Her face is sensual as she teases her nipples, abrupt, sharp twists as her clit throbs.
"Do we have a deal with Timmy," he smiles sharply.
You purr, "Mmh… I think I know a way we can all get what we want."
🛏🕙
Betty rides Timmy like a cowboy, and you wish you could see it. But the juicy, lustful sound of her wet pussy combined with her ragged, desperate moans was enough for you. Every thrust shook the bed, you could feel the weight shift behind you, as you sat over Timmy's face, your sex all in his mouth from this angle, your back turned to Betty.
His paws were on either side of your thighs, his gorgeous blown-out eyes fleeing from the stars and back. Avoiding the power that comes with sharing a glare with you.
Betty's hand was on your shoulders, using you as stability to fuck herself down on Timmy's wet cock. Her fat swollen clit was wonderfully teased with by her freehand, as the stench of fucking filled the bedroom.
"oouh-- f'yess m- mm- mff," Betty swallows thickly, her toes curled up, stars twinkling in her peripherals.
You were gonna blow. Not just from Timmy's wild mouth, but from Betty's lewdness, or maybe it was the way the bed shifted, pushing yourself deeper into Timmy, or was it the way his sexy, boba-pearl eyes glared at you, combined with his alert, prideful ears.
Timmy was gonna cum too. His cock was leaking and twitching inside Betty's warm, juicy folds. She was velvet and red hot, sucking him back in with an intense grip, and how her weight rested on him, combined with your sex ruffling him dead quiet, thighs tickling his face, your ass near to his neck and chest-- he couldn't stay alive for his own good.
And within seconds, he cries out on your sex, "nnyff!! nyyaaff," and shoots hot, sticky streams deep into Betty.
Betty's eyes roll back, her sinful pussy sucking him all up, as she lowered herself on him, teasing her clit, fucking it until she soon blew, "m' cummin' ooh-- f'yesss!" And in tandem, hearing her fuck her clit made you go haywire, as you spilled all over Timmy's poor mouth.
"Mmasterff-masterff," he groans.
You don't remember much, too tired from being too fucking horny. But you do remember the aftercare, and the tender, sweet cuddling. How Timmy curled up next to Betty, cutely tucking his tail in, resting his head on her shoulder, his paws stroking your cheek as you rested on the opposite side of her, your head resting on her pillowy breasts. Her warm hand was stroking your back, her laugh soft and faint as you faded into sleep.
syn: jinx finally finds her admirer, the artist behind all her grand murals. the spearhead behind her becoming a symbol. she can't find a better way to say thanks than but to kill her. but it seems repressed feelings spring out when her admirer reveals she wants jinx in other ways.
tags: cunnilingus, fingering, abrupt ending, asphyxiation, more plot than porn
an: I started writing this back in February. I've finally gone around to cleaning this up!! I had been holding it off for months bc I couldn't finish it, so I decided to clean it and post it
Being Jinx's admirer was nothing short of a difficult task. But it was all in-compassing, enthralling. Her essence shaped and molded your very being. You were trapped in the audience, clapping at the stage of her self-destructive encore, aware of the danger yet, you find yourself the shell-shocked looker drenched with prophetic blood.
You painted her, you professed poems in her name, you hid her in all your creations, and found her in all of your favorite melodies. She's what made your art so popular in the undercity, and for your Piltie persona, the hidden flickers of blues and's could be found hidden in your work. You were inspired, she was a symbol.
To Jinx, you were a mysterious, weird fucking threat. You always knew where she would be going. You had her on the clockwork, as you drifted to and fro to her likely destination. It was only chance when you'd spot her, rare and few. But Jinx was paranoid. Those were rare and a few times too many.
The art, the murals.
She's seeing her face painted so... Angelical, so destructive, so... Intuned with her. It's like magic, it's moving. It makes her feel- and she cannot stop this feeling- therefore, it was nothing short of dangerous.
She's preventing you, and your gorgeous art from disappearing. She's staying away, despite knowing how desperate you, her little admirer, are.
The further you are from her, the safer things are.
But she catches herself late at night, climbing to the top of water towers to ogle at your work. The way you have her posed, she always subconsciously poses that way in front of it, wanting to see if that's what she really looks like. Or worse, she'll close her eyes and imagine she's there in your painting, just as you depicted her. Imagine her feeling the array of colors you have her plastered in, and the wave of emotions drawing from it.
These are her most vulnerable moments. She's not Jinx or Powder. She's "The Girl On The Big Mural". Sometimes that girl is drawn with rough, dark colors, others, light, soft, and fluffy. It's weird how, when she's angry, she always flocks to your rough murals. When she's incredibly sad, she'll convince herself to get her favorite drink, which is bought by the bar next to your water tower mural.
She'll stare at them until dawn, lost in her own world, escaping off to her depicted self. One of the few times her brain feels quiet.
It's an embarrassingly intimate and humiliating ritual for Jinx. She gets to slip away, rarely, and few can she find that escape.
One day, the tables flip.
Instead of you stalking Jinx, Jinx somehow stalks you.
She had fallen asleep on that damn water tower, and when she awoke, she happened to catch a glimpse of you sneaking out of the bar and down the lanes. You were carrying paints with a frantic expression, lips parted in awe, eyebrows pinched down heavy, glossy tears in your eyes. There was this lingering frustration following you. However, you stomped down the wet, grimy streets. Groggy and intrigued, Jinx followed behind you.
She followed you down pipes and secret allies, deep underground, until you made it to this weird little cove pocket. It was a sort of dead-end from an abandoned pipe system. It had a crack for a ceiling that lit in through the top, the smallest glimpses of sunshine doused in. The space was covered in paint supplies, splotches of messy paint covering wooden floorboards (ones she's sure you put in), with a faint smell of pastels and charcoal.
You had a grand, paint-smothered desk in here, with a rickety bed and a pool of fresh water dribbling in. The walls were covered in various pretty sketches and murals, most of which were of her. Depicting her so graceful and sweet on one end by your bed, the others, a mixture of manic, destruction, fun, and powerful prowess. It makes her tense. It makes her flush. She's well-loved by you. She seems to shake with fear. There are abstract and non-her related canvases in various sizes sprinkled about, but she ignores them as her eyes are planted on you.
This home was marvelous.
Your own pocket, free from the world.
She didn't dare to step in, keeping her vantage point at the front, gripping paranoid nails deep into her braid.
She can hear you grunt, the echo in the space making your voice louder. You pull back a blanket from over a canvas far away. It faces your bed as you sit down on it, bringing your paints, sketchbook, and many more materials over to it as you sit.
Your face is flushed worse, a gulp slipping down your throat.
Jinx is intrigued.
She looks up. Pipes decorate the ceiling above just before the opening. There's one, sneakily upwards that wraps around the whole perimeter, it's stock and thick. She's sure it'll support her weight.
She needs to get closer.
She needs to see the painting that left you so breathless that made you frustrated, which made you make such a blissful face.
She jumps up stealthy, her footsteps soft and quiet under the dribble of leaky pipes, her balance cat-like. She makes her way over to your bed, crouching on her hands and knees as she peers forth at the painting.
Her heart drums at the sight.
The painting was pre-raphaelite in detail, with smooth, intimate hues of soft eggshell white bed sheets, with her, the pale-blue-haired subject posed upon them naked. You've painted everything except her crotch and breasts. There's this giant empty box that starts at her collarbones ends at her ribcage, then starts again beneath her belly button, just to end at the swell of her milky inner thighs.
She's posed with a relaxed, breathless expression. Her left hand up to softly touch her collarbone, a beautiful blue braid wrapped around it. The her you depicted was so calm, so serene, she was flavored with dangerous magenta eyes, sickly pale skin, and sullen eyebags. She had cuts and bruises from battles, she had her reckless tattoos, and dirt beneath her nails. Despite it all, despite all the inferred roughness of her life that's dancing in the subject, the ground was-- she was relaxed and happy in the moment.
She could be happy despite it all.
Jinx's nails dug sharply into the pipe, fear, trepidation, and panic swelling in her body. Her eyes glossed over in desire- in need of this false reality, her teeth bared in anger. You're so fucking horrible to her. None of this shit would ever be real.
How can you paint her so intimately, so organic and sensual as if nothing in the world could harm her when it is harming her. When things are harming her. As if she could overcome- move on. Be what the people need.
Stop showing her these.
She couldn't bear it. She can never be happy, she can never have these things.
She'll only ruin it.
So she'll stop it before you get any more bright ideas.
Jinx's flurry of stress drops eerily silent as she sits up. She leans forward, stealing out her gun, propping her free hand securely on the pipe as the other hones in a good shot by your head. She peers into her raggedy, dirty scope.
She can see how your hands tremble as you pick up your brush, as you go to paint in the swell of her breasts but are unable to, how you stop to fist clumps of the wife-beater you have on. How you clench the cloth right above your heart.
As if she's affecting you.
As if she could ever make someone feel that way.
As if she's worthy to.
All of her brain burns and cries out, voices echoing their pure rage, pure longing, singing over each other in this dangerous choir. She can see your own breasts in the shirt you're wearing. You've got no bra, and it compliments your pebbled, and infectiously hard nipples.
How you seem to shift and grind in your sitting. How you sweat, how you raise a paintbrush with a degenerate gasp to continue.
"Fucking loser," she hisses in her brain. Her scope drops down to where your legs part. She can't see your cunt but.
Her brain swells dangerously, her eyes snapping back open. Why would she think that? Why would you ever intrigue her? You're just another gift she can't have.
No.
You're a liar. A liar who paints these horrible stories to ruin her. To get her fucking weak so you can destroy her, get all the power that you want.
Her head shakes, glossy confused tears brimming up. She's aiming in your direction, no longer checking her aim, just aiming it at you. Her teeth clatter, her trigger finger hovering over the trigger. Her vision is lost, dissociation claiming its prize over her, at will to the swells of stress flowing in waves over her body.
Your intentions are evil.
The gun glows blue.
"Mmff," you grunt.
You're so fucking evil.
Her finger stutters when it makes contact with the trigger. A shot breaks through the air.
It's aimed right by your foot as it crashes into a can of blue paint, it bursts and oozes onto the floor.
You shoot up with a cry, "Aah!" And before you could even turn back towards the sound, magenta slices through the air, as Jinx appears on your bed behind you. There's no time to react as she lunges forward, sloppily trying to bang your head in with the hilt of her gun. You block it with your forearm, slapping it out in her hands surprisingly easily.
She growls and hisses like a deranged cat, throwing devilishly nailed hands toward your face, taking you down to the ground with her. You crash to the floor, your canvas clattering with you, you can feel the wet paint of Jinx's breasts against your back. The wood of the canvas creaks and cranes and the terror of your painting being destroyed crosses your body.
You're not really processing it. You're beneath Jinx, pawing her face away, freehand trapping her wrist as she does everything in her power to get to your neck. She's got this hellish look in her eyes, it overflows with hatred. And paired with her wails, "Fu--Fuck! Aah-haha! You liar-liar-liar pants off-- Pants off- you'd want that, you'd want that you- fire," She's nothing short of out of it.
It's almost beautiful.
Jinx.
Her pale skin, her face covered in soft freckles, while blue veins streak down from her wide, doe eyes. Her eyes are hammered down with pure rage, a violent shimmer-purple, with teeth bared and spit-covered as she snarls out needlessly. Her beautiful braids fly about in the tussle, they are just as gorgeous as ever. Her vibrant blues stick to her neck and face, swear ebbing in her forehead.
As pretty as she was, she was dangerous.
What's happening?
How is this happening?
How is she here?
Why is she mad?
She's incredibly fast, impossibly fast as she slaps a hand dead on your neck. You gasp for air, loosening your grip on her wrist, she takes that advantage and meets your neck with a mighty clap. She's got both hands around you now, her grip growing deadly tightly, deadly-- your deadly muse is choking you out.
There's nothing but joy in your belly. Joy and star-stricken awe overflow out into your mangled expression.
Jinx's face twitched in despair, but she stared down at you with wild eyes, never dropping her manic, mostly terrified, smile. She laughs with a dry and tangy cackle, "You're going to die-- But you look like you've seen heaven!" She tightens her grip. You arch, and cry out, trying your best to wiggle out, but still, your eyes keep flocking to her.
They never lose their joy.
It feeds her worse.
You're the worst threat, the hardest to kill.
"Hey-- Ya'know when you get up there... And get to see the big man upstairs... Tell 'em of what a sinner I've become... Say hi to my ol' Granny and Mamma, too," she hisses. She's nonsensical, nonsensical as her smile begins to fade and your face grows red. Nonsensical as her brows pinch up in fear, and glossy eyes widen in disbelief as your eyes roll your the back of your head.
Nonono.
She doesn't wanna do this.
Please she doesn't want this.
She can't stop now.
She.
Your hand flies up, it slaps against her cheek roughly at first, uncoordinated from lack of blood flow. But she doesn't care or notice, let alone wince as she locks her pink eyes into yours. You cup her face to the best of your abilities. Your eyes are overcome with empathy- and understanding. You stare dead into her shifty, shivering eyes.
Reassurance waves down her body as your knuckles caress her skin.
"Juh-- Jinn.... Juh-in-cks," your lips are blue.
She flies off you in an instant, and you gasp for air. In the moment, she falls back onto the floor, landing with a clumsy and painful bang. She shoots up onto her knees just as quick as she eats shit, her shoulder ringing with sharp pain. She hears you gasp and struggle beside her. She hears you stagger up.
She panics worse, and worse as she slips in the blue paint that prevents her from standing up. You're getting closer behind her, her eyes flicker to her gun. She crawls manically over to it, having just enough time to flip onto her back, aiming it dead at your chest as you crouch beside her.
You're still looking at her with that crazed look. Your hand is slapped over your throbbing neck, tears of pain pricking your eye but they only add to that fond gaze. That hopeful gaze.
She feels so small beneath you.
What are you going to do to her now? After all that she just did.
"I'm warning you- t-toots," she cocks her gun.
You blink needlessly, extending your free hand out to her. She flinches so hard at first. But then she only stares, stares with a sniffling nose at your open palm. She scrambles to sit up, staring up at you through her eyelids.
She looks so small.
It makes you feel crazy.
Crazy, as she softly takes your hand with a pouty gaze, crazy as you stand together. Crazy as she slaps self-conscious arms around her naked shoulders. Crazy as she half-assedly points at your painting.
It's smeared on the ground, blue paint smothering the edges. Her breasts have an almost Gaussian blur over them, the edges of the sheets were splattered with careless blue. You gasp softly.
"It's perfect," you whisper, voice deathly hoarse.
Now it's her turn to gasp. You drop everything to pick up the painting, rushing it towards your desk, tracking blue paint for every step. Jinx is close to your tail, grabbing your arm as you put it up with the rest.
"You can't leave it like that," she squeaks with disbelief, "It's not even finished."
You look at her, and your eyes flicker to her shirt.
Her face reddens at the implications of her words, and she tries to stammer. But you won't look up at her, carrying that same breathless, artsy, frustrated look from before. You cough sharply, she snaps out of your magic trance as you walk on over to your freshwater, cupping some in your hands as you slurp it up for your hoarse voice.
Jinx is left there, still standing there as she worriedly surveys her surroundings. She bites the inside of her cheeks. She feels like a teenager around you.
She's aware of how your back muscles look in your tank top, aware of how water dribbles down your lips and throat, aware of the sounds of every slurp you take. Her face reddens. You drew her naked.
Her hands lay themselves on her breasts.
You drawing her naked.
Her eyes worriedly fly around again. There are no threats here and that's exactly what makes her so stressed when it comes to you.
You get up again, and she flinches. You walk right back up to her and the painting, seemingly to smile at her before staring at it again. Jinx's heart drums in disbelief, disbelief as she states are your red and bruised neck. She spits out, "I was just about to kill ya', kid. G-Gonna do something about that or what? Or are you just," you move towards her as she speaks, "A-Are you just another one of those m-maniacs," you get in so close as if you're hunting her, "--w-who like...."
Her voice dies dry in her throat. Her lower back hits the table.
You're towering over her, watching as she slaps a hand over her chest, watching as her doe eyes flicker from each pupil of yours. She's trapped between your body, and as she goes to turn out of it, you cage a hand on the table on each side of her, forcing her to face you, forcing her into your trap. You get close, close enough for her to whimper, close enough for her hands to fidget with one another on her chest, close enough for her to shut her eyes.
You blow a teasing gust of air against her lips, she shakes and groans out deliciously.
Your eyelids haze over.
Your throat fucking burns.
She's killing you right now.
You blow against her lips again. She cracks them open with a tremble, teeth parting just slightly enough to reveal her tongue. She shyly begins to open her eyes, but it doesn't matter, as you dive into her mouth. Your teeth clash as you enter a kiss with her, pressing all of your body against her, as she sloppily rests her hands on your chest, feeling your breasts shamelessly.
What were you doing? She didn't know, she didn't know why her legs felt like jello, why she felt like clawing you, grabbing as much of your skin beneath her nails.
But she's a shit kisser. Shit as she interrupts your rhythm, shit as she breathes against your skin and tickles it, shit as she's uncoordinated with her tongue, devising just slapping the warmth thing against your teeth is simulating enough for you.
You grunt in annoyance. You hook hands on her ass as you pull her up and drop her on the desk, separating her legs with your body as you stand between them. You reach and grab her head, angling it just right for your tongue to berate her mouth. She moans and grunts into the kiss, her thighs squeezing against your body, her nailed hands pawing at your tank top.
She's forced to sink into your rhythm, cooperate with your tongue, and learn how to do it all right. And she's a quick learner, too. It doesn't take her too long to get the hang of your hungry, animalistic makeout. Soon enough, she's getting catty with it. Jinx gets catty as she slurps you all up overconfidently, as she pushes back against you to take control and forces you into her sensual, zealous rhythm.
She's realizing it now.
She wants this. She wants it like freshwater in the desert.
She wraps her legs around your hips, pulling you flush against her fluttering core. One of her legs arched like a ballerina, only it displayed her whorish excitement for more. She's catty as she wraps her arms over your shoulders, stretching them out limply, prodding her indexes together with a pleased hum.
As you pull back for a much-needed breath, she giggles sickly, leaning in to bite and pull at your lip. You grunt, desperate to keep restraint. You lean down, dropping your knee on the desk as you guide her to lay down on the desk, thrusting forward to push her up high on it. She gasps with need, but that overcomes as you attack her lips again.
She bucks up, desperate to create some friction on her needy core.
Jinx doesn't know it yet, but her brain has been eerily quiet. It was like everything else in the world had been shut off, but you and you didn't give her any chances for her mind to slip off to its usual hell. Not at all as you pieced off that skimpy top of hers in one go.
She aches into the cold air, her nipples already alert for the pecking. Her breasts were so damn tiny, her pink nipples tart and small. You pawed her little breasts, addicted to how the soft skin kissed your paint-covered palms, addicted to how the tattoo on her side included the side of her bug bites.
You groaned out at the sight, suddenly aware of how clothes seemed to restrain you.
Jinx chuckles as you lean her head back, guiding her ached chest toward your line of sight. She knows what's going to happen, but she stutters out to gain control, "Turned on by anthills? Geez, you really a freak fan."
She's insinuating so much with that sentence. You grunt in irritation, sliding out a warm hot tongue against her perky nipple. She moans out, the sound his hoarse and airy, more of a breath hitch than a proper pretty moan. You suck in the little bit of breast that she has into your mouth, playing with the milky skin with the curl of your tongue. You suck and release them, aiming her and your head towards her other one, sucking and nibbling her nipple.
Her fists tighten by her lap, but she allows herself to be limp in your hold. You have her upper body floating above the desk's top in a loose embrace. The back of her head rests in your palm, and her back leans her weight into the arm that's propped her up. Her legs have her core flush against you, and at this moment, she can't help but notice your strength. You're pretty strong for just a painter, but then again, in the undercity, you have to be.
She can't take it anymore, as she haphazardly grabs chunks of your hair, yanking your head back. You hiss, but you can't help but melt as you stare at her pouty cheeks, and big saucer eyes, as she drowns in bliss. "Mmhf' ta-toots... Don't get stuck here," she moans out. But instantly, she feels your energy shift. There's this dangerous aura shaping your body, as your eyes narrow sharply down on her.
She gulps. You release your hold on her as she rests back on the desk, nervous, anxious eyes following you as you rip off her gaudy pants. They peel off like butter, and you find the glorious Jinx wears no panties. You grunt at the sight. She's barely shaven, but even more so, you're surprised to find out her pubes are the same powder blue. You run an excited thumb down her trail, parting her lips with it, revealing her gorgeous vulva.
She's a bright, soft pink, thickly wet from slick. She sticks to your thumb like glue. Your body language shifts again, and her breath hits. Nothing can prepare her for the moment your lips finally meet her pussy, how her greedy hands grab chunks of your hair, how she gasps sharp and loud and begins to squirm.
Your hot, humid breath encapsulates her, her toes curling, yet you're only tasting her, only slowly dragging her swollen nub up your tastebuds. "Mmmh-- whoa ah," Jinx moans, her sounds are pitched and sharp.
Your hands grab her hips, pulling her upwards, her hips floating off the table, her legs wrapping vice around your head. She squeaks, "H-Hold o-oonh." But you don't listen, hammering her clit, sneaking between her labia, parting her up like the prize she was to you- to the city.
Jinx bucks into your lap, rocking her hips into your flat tongue. She's flying, wind lost from her lungs, panting yet never getting enough. Her stomach flutters, and before she knows it, her back arches off the table, and electricity spills out her body with a forced moan, "T-Tuh-toots!"
She's laid back down on the table with a final kiss to her clit.
You ask, "Your first time?" She came all too quick.
She shoots up, eyebrows pinched in annoyance, "Pff-- Pff! As if."
You barely let her finish, swallowing her confidence as you loom over her again, hands sliding down to her sweetness. Your finger slips right into her with ease, with no resistance as her wetness sucks you all the way in, as you curve it against her bladder. Your freehand grabs her thick braid, twirling it with a cocky glare, as you slip in your middle finger into her body. She clenches around you, walls pulsating.
You thrust into her steady, deep, and hard. The sounds of her wet, dramatic pussy echo across the room. Jinx's eyes fly behind her eyelids, mouth agape, her thighs clenching around your forearm. She's shamelessly moaning and bucking into every thrust, "Mmh-- Yes- like that..."
"Now," your voice booms and creates goosebumps across Richard's skin, "You can't lie… Can't cheat. Can't speak." You whisper the words as you stare deep into Sterling's eyes.
The gaudy knight had been twisting your arm, coaxing you in with his horribly kind words, using teeth instead of the lips he promised. He was a hungry, gentle nuisance. He was a devil, masquerading in the cloth of an angel. And you were here to set him straight. Remind him, that if he was a vampire, you were a hunter.
You had him on his knees, arms tied tight behind his back, a ball gag tight in deceitful lips as he strained, huffed, staring you dead in the eyes with a delighted glare. A dangerous glare. As if he didn't take you seriously-- as if it were a game he could slip out of eventually.
So he was being so good, naked in the warm, honey-smelling room, batting his gorgeous lashes. It was all a game. And he was going to break free, soon enough.
You stepped down on his crotch, light enough, but still able to feel his warmth beneath your soles. He grunts, eyebrows pinching together. His eyes shut, but then they flare open, glowing, ruminating. He leans forward to your lap, dragging his cheek against your thigh, showing you how soft- how vulnerable he is.
Don't you want to reward him?
You grab a fistful of his hair, stepping off him and dragging him forward. He slithers and slides on his knees, voice coming out uselessly muffled but you knew he'd be cackling right now. He can't keep up with the heat, eventually falling flat down onto his stomach, you release him timely.
"Richard," you squat next to him. You draw a line down his back with the tip of your finger.
"Mm--mmfff-hmff," he grumbled out.
You point, "You left a trail."
You point over at the line of precum dribbling from where you dragged him, and to now. It was thick, and splattered, a direct contrast from the dark floorboards, it simmered in the candlelight.
He huffs, laying his cheek against the floor in defeat.
"I said," You pick up his head by his hair, shiny tearful eyes meet yours, "You left a trail."
He's forced to pick himself back up onto his knees, it's a struggle for balance, but when he's finally able to, he glances back at his mess.
With him upright again, you could take in his body.
His broad, fit chest was heaving, his fair skin twinkling in the candlelit hue. It was as if every breath was a struggle, a struggle for composure. He panted like a dog, avoiding your gaze, staring at his damn mess because you made him too. And worst of all, his cock was red and hard. It dribbled and spat up on itself.
He was straining in his restraints now, going to stare at you with annoyed, hungry, two-colored eyes.
He wants to fuck.
You finally smile.
You drop your grip, standing up again, slipping out of those dirty, lacy panties, revealing your sweet sex to him. His eyes darken, lashes fluttering over. You step close to him, standing over his legs, your sex is the only thing in his sight.
You ask, "You hungry?" You pet down his messy hair, combing it through with your fingers.
He nods, never parting from your stare.
"You're not allowed to eat yet," you hush. You press him against your pussy, and the tip of his nose meets your clit. He's lost, burying himself into you, moving his nose in slow circles around you, not caring for the slime that's coating his face as he rubs it into you.
You moan. He works himself into you, pulling up his face to press the gag into your clit. His lost, hazed eyes showed you what he'd do if you set him free. His cock is painfully arched, painfully red, painfully needing a release.
"How much do you want it," you ask. You tug on the gag, slipping it out of his mouth.
He gasps, saliva dribbling down his chin.
"How much, I said-"
"Please… I… Allow me to, " he looks away, staring at the floor.
You ask, "What's wrong? You humiliate others." You pat his cheek, hooking fingers under his chin to correct his gaze, "Are you too prideful to beg? Or should I leave right now--"
He barks, "No!"
"Then tell me," but you're quicker.
"Allow me to pleasure you… Please, I require it… Now… Now, please. Right now, I pray… Please, if I may. I cannot go without your nectar," his voice is weak, trembling.
Such words.
The way he spoke.
It was pitiful.
"Alright," you can't even finish the word before Richard finds your pussy, lips, and tongue all attacking your clit.
It's a battlefield, the way his flat tongue parts your labia, the way his nose tip presses against your crotch. How he collects your juices on him, shoulders against your thighs, knowing if he could use your hands he'd knock you off balance with his vigor.
The room fills with quick, slick sounds as he hounds your clit. You moan out, keeping yourself steady against his weight, against the electric jolts telling your knees to buckle. Your hand rests against the back of his head, and his slurps around your sensitive nub leave your juices dribbling, dribbling down your thighs in a steady stream.
He notices it after a round of bullying releasing the most pitiful, "mmguah," as he dives beneath your thighs, chasing the juices running down with his tongue-- only leaving more.
No more.
You can't take it.
You step back.
He curses out, "Fuck-- No-no," it is more so babbling than anything. His eyes are hazed over, hair sticking to his face, sticking to his lips. His sultry, pussy drunk eyes meet you, all with pinched brows.
"To bed," you point. "Stand up," you grab his upper arm, helping him up to stand.
Once on his own feet, he bumps into you, towering over your form, pressuring you back into the bed, and quickly taking power, as he bullies you onto it. You're taken aback, butt resting against the plush sheets, but he gives you no time, leaning down and stealing your lips.
"I-- Demand- it," he commands from the frenzied kiss. Kissing you as if he were a wild man.
Demand.
As if he has any power.
His cock is against your leg, pumping against it, spreading slime across it. He's shamelessly getting off on your leg, like a dog. It all comes it a fault as he flops onto you, forcing you to gasp. He drops his head into your shoulder, grinding and fucking your clit, moaning out wanton and loud. "Unnhh, ahh," he's groaning, fuckin, chasing his high before he splatters all over your crotch.
His cum trickles down your labia, warming your clit.
Past the point of words, you finally break him free. Richard grabs you by your shoulders, pushing you back up on the bed, as he climbs on it after you. Like a hungry tiger, he follows you as you scoot to the middle, your head finding the pillows as he grabs your thighs.
He parts you like the red sea, claiming that pussy of yours with his tongue. He drags drunk stripes up it, fucking his hips into the bedsheets, laying stretched out for cock friction. He holds your thighs up like a prize, giving your curtains no privacy as he parts them over and over, collecting the taste.
He plunges his tongue into your hole, warning-less, forcing your moans out, flicking his tongue at the pace of his pitiful cock thrusts. Wiggling his tongue around in your warm, gummy walls, drowning in the earthy smell, hypnotized by the taste. He tops playing around, his thrusts growing erratic, his cum getting thicker, so he bullies your clit, forcing you to meet your climax as his body commands his own.
He moans out, "My'h darling'h," as he splatters the sheets with cum. Your climax hits you strong, white flashing in your eyes as a strong glitch trails down your spine.
"Fuck! Richard," you cry out, gripping chunks of his disheveled hair.
He kisses your clit, soft and wanton, and he whispers, "My darling- My-- Mine."
And for some reason.
He looms over you with dark eyes. Pinning you beneath him, with a sharp, sadistic grin, his gorgeous beauty mark on display. He digs into your shoulder, biting into the flesh, wrapping possessive arms around your body.
Instead of having him tamed, he's in control, yet again.
sal fisher x reader | NSFW 🎸🔷️ [barely proof read]
"Ffuucckkk," Sal groans out. He drags it out as if it were his last word. He's a vocal boy; huffing, head back against the wall, lost in the sauce, each palm in your hair. He's wanton-- breathless. He moans softly, "o-ohh,, mmh yeah, yeah..."
There you were in between his legs, knees on the floor, hands in his inner thighs, mouth going down on his cock. Sal's manspread wide, tensing up his calves for every sloppy swipe up his cock.
Your mouth is so warm, tongue so hot, your suction is crisp. It's as if nothing in the world matters but him, and he's so damn grateful.
Having sex with Sal was always euphoric, holy even. So much love, so much kindness, so much earnestness and passion. Sal can't recount all the times he prayed, to whoever would listen, about how lucky he was to find you. You who is his shoulder to cry on. You whom he shares laughs-- you, who are his one and only.
And there you were, bobbing up and down his shaft, staring up at him with glossy eyes. Rewarding him for just existing. You were way too holy.
He can't cum yet...
But you're driving him crazy.
You pull off to work on his head, swirling and sucking and teasing his hole, pumping the rest of him with your hands. They work swift, each twisting around him clockwise.
He squeaks, "Yeah! Mmf-- Yyeah, ohh dear." He picks up his head to meet your eyes. How they glimmer in raw seduction, darkened over. How your lips mold around him. His hands gather your hair from your face, holding what he can in one. He drops the other, it lays against the pillow all clenched up into a fist, wrist tense.
His voice spikes.
He's holding back the urge to cum.
How cute.
Sal's chest heaves and rises unevenly, toes clenched up in his shoes, mouth drawing out an "o"; his eye rising behind clouds. "I'm- I'm gonna cuuum," he sings out.
In a hot flash, sparks ripple across his body, fireworks pop, and semen busts into your mouth. Thick loads coat your tongue, as you squeeze and milk him of every last drop.
"N--urrghhk," he pants, huffing. "Shit-- Thank you... Thank you dear," he's whispering wantonly.
You giggle, "You're welcome, honey," and silde a hand up to carress his aching chest.
He's so sure you'd can hear his raging heartbeat from here.
tags: bdsm, powerplay, watersports, overstimulation, sadomasochism, painplay, erotic asphyxiation, foot-licking, rough play, slapping, rope-bunny, brat/brat tamer, pre-established relationship, cuteness at the end, fem!reader, no plot (barely proof read)
a/n: beware this is kink city... but to be fair, you've gotta be a little bit of a rope bunny to like efron
Working with the Efron Weisz has its benefits.
You were his cute little assistant, prancing around in a scandalous dress (for the period), tying him up, locking the locks on all of his crazy machines. Your only goal was to be eye candy, keeping their audience's attention before Efron swoops in to steal the show-- one final blow. The show was crushing it, popularity skyrocketing.
Money was coming in, excitement was buzzing.
You gasp, pulled out of your thoughts by a hearty smack against your ass. You bite your lip, pulling your head back from the clouds. You're straddling Efron, knees against the sofa in his dressing room, hands on his shoulders, his lips buried into your neck.
"Mmh, E-Efroon," you mewl. He sucks and nips on your neck, squeezing your ass, humming darkly.
"How much we made, baby-doll," he gruffs into your neck. "Tell me again," excitement dances in his tone.
You giggle, baring nails into his shoulder pads, "Ten thousand, darling!"
"Hmm… We're set," he pulls out and stares at you with a grin. His grin sharpens, eyelids hazing over. Your heart skips a beat, your jaw falling slack. You knew that look. Hands slip underneath your skirt. They're thick, burly, hot like fire.
You whimper, prodding fingers pull your underwear to the side, underwear that stuck to your pussy, leaving a wet string. His middle finger immediately prods your fluttering hole, the sound erotic as it parts open, loud and proud pouncing its premature love for his fingers. "Haa-h," you sigh blissfully, as he plunges into the knuckle.
"Your body is eager to congratulate me," he hisses with a chuckle.
"Mmh- yes," you breathe out.
He gives a daring wiggle inside your pretty, pink walls, flexing forward to curve against your bladder. You whine, but he knows this isn't enough for you. He's got his sweet girl trained, she needs more. He grabs your chin with his free hand, forcing your gaze. Then, he slowly slides his ring finger to join you, his forearm resting on your backside. Your jaw falls slack, and the corners of his lips turn up pleased.
"So wet, I've barely even started," he mutters. He sternly, but lightly, slaps your cheek, another attention caller. He wants those eyes dead set on his. "Keep your eyes on me," his tone is daring, simply because you should already know the deal.
You bite your lip, he knows you want it to sting. He doesn't prod you anymore. Instead, he rewards you, by finally thrusting in his fingers at a pleasing, stern pace. You buck forward, balancing your weight on your knees to the best you can.
Your moans trail out, and your sounds downstairs are sloppy. Your pussy is relaxed, his fingers thrust in and out without resistance, lubed to hell by your wetness, how your juices slip and coat your thighs, leaving a pitiful mess. He loves it. "You're driving me crazy," Efron sighs.
His breath hitches as he thrusts slowly and combines with stretching. How he scissors his feelings inside you, getting a feel of how much you can take before your natural goodness clamps down on him. His breath grows rigged, and he's getting hot, imagining his fat thickness getting choked by your walls.
"Ff--fuck," he bites his lip with a moan. You lean like a weightless slop into him, pressing him to the back of the couch, resting your head and weak body against him, thrusting your hips back onto his fingers. You need it quicker.
He chuckles, "How cute."
He thrusts in there quickly and hard, using his free hand to slip down between your legs, and swirling your clit between two finger pads. "E-Efron-- haa," you mewl, jaw hanging slack.
You still bounce back on his thrusts, losing yourself in the sway, feeling your swelling clit pulse and pulse along with your juicy walls. "I'm cumming," you spew. He takes the opportunity to ram fast thrusts against your bladder, spinning your clit against his open fingers wildly.
"Ye-yeaah, bitch… Let loose," he growls, a full, deep, controlling grunt.
"F-fuck-- Yess Oh-- Efron," is all you can make out before your orgasm hits you like a truck. A wave washes over you, forcing your body limp, squirting all over his hands, cumming down on his fingers that curve into your bladder. All while, efron continued to wildly rub your clit, all through your orgasm. Spit dribbled down the corners of your mouth, your leg tensed up.
He rubbed it fiercely, even as you arched away, even as your breath clogged in your throat, taking advantage of your dumbness and stupidity during your high. And when you came off it, drawing your last squirt, your brain was Jumpstarted by intense, overwhelming strikes from your clit. You can't hold back your bladder anymore, full-on leaking out as you arched away from his touch. He grabbed your hip with a displeased grunt, pulling your back down onto his nimble fingers, restricting your back into your rightful place.
Your legs are moving, your back is arching, your hips are squirming. You're pressing yourself fully into him. Delectable tears prick the corner of your eyes, "Ef- Effie-- Wait- pleauh," you wail, voice banshee in his ears, "I-- jus… came!!"
"Yeah? Well, you're doing it again, bitch," he chuckles. The sound is so sweet, as tears swell into your eyes.
"I'm cumming," you groan out girthy, as a forceful, unwavering orgasm hits you. This time it's paralyzing, your head is forced back into a lock, drool distasteful on your chin, hole clenched vice around dormant fingers, and your body thrusts upwards into him, successfully separating from those greedy hands.
He slips out of you while you heave and arch, your orgasm prolonged, the nerves in your clit burnt your mind. Your senses are haywire.
"Ff-yyeahh," Efron moans out upon seeing that fucked out expression on your face. He holds you a little, kissing your cheek and chin, licking away saliva until you regain your strength with a sharp gasp. He slaps your ass, hard, your skin stings and your ass bounces back against his thick palm.
"E-yess," you croak, releasing your vice grip. He slides you off him and lays you down on the couch as he stands, chest wide, shoulders confident, and disappears further into the dressing room.
You lay weakly, suddenly cold without him. And before you could complain, he's back before you, holding a rope, a shitty grin on his face.
"E-Efron-- not the damn rope. I don't want that rope-- I want those chains… The chains with the lock," desperation fills your voice.
"Mmh, what a good girl… Your wish is my command," his smile worsens, he drops it and soon reappears with a tiny but long chain. The kind that'll hurt from all the pressure against the skin. The kind that would leave marks.
Your clit spasmed in awareness.
"Let's see you escape, now. Bitch," he's got you tied up in minutes. You're naked, your arms are behind your back, chained up and locked, restricted tight against your forearms, forcing your breasts out vulnerable to him. He reaches over to a coffee table and starts an hourglass. "If you cum before this five-minute timer ends, you get to be free… Hey, I'll even let you taste me," he pauses.
"If you fail… You're going to cum endlessly on this dick. Let's see how much you can take before you break," he cackles.
A full-body shiver overtakes you. One tiny glance into his eyes reveals an ocean of animalistic hunger. He wants you to lose.
Your tongue salivates at the thought of servicing him.
You need that. He never lets you suck him off, most of the time he's too eager to play both your nub to let you do anything.
Fuck.
You need to suck that dick.
Render him helpless for once.
"Deal," you mumble.
It's not fair, how the game was already rigged before you started.
His cock is hammering into your walls, your legs up flying in the air, his thick hand holding it down. Efron's got you pinned mating press, using his free hand to slap your titties down. His thrusts are wild, hard, deep thrusts, all aided by the intense pleasure of the position. His fat cock has a great head, a head that parts you open like the sea, that rams itself against your sweet spot.
"Ooh, mmh yeah…. Good pussy," he says out between stern, short grunts. His voice is breathless, eyes glued to you, knowing the risk of him cumming just from the sight-- and daring it.
All while you tense and squeeze, burying your nails into your palms, struggling, as the chains wrap vice against you. You're in pain, your pussy is being loved, the strain aches your mind, you've already lost it. "Effie! Might! 'Fronn," you spew out, out of control of your volume.
"C'mon, then," he grunts, "Tell 'me what- you want, baby." The timers at two minutes and thirty, and just swirling your nipple around won't do much. His free hand reaches, grabbing your neck, pressing it down with a loving squeeze. The sound of your pussy getting hammered overtakes the room. Each thrust is a loud, wet, sloppy squelch, pitiful, and pitiful your wetness dribbles down your ass crack, and coats the sofa beneath you.
Your toes clench up sharply. You try to squirm, but all his weight is already on you. He's got you by the neck like a hunter, and fuck you're about to cum. You can't grab onto him, you can't tease his nipples back, distract him, or do anything to thwart it. Each relentless thrust from his cock sends a shockwave, a shockwave you're extra sensitive to now that your high was approaching.
Five minutes. You can't last even five minutes with Efron?
Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you shamelessly arche into him. "I'm gonna-- cumm," you announce, face hot, entranced by the smell of fucking in the air.
Efrom surges, and his cock twitches inside of you. He grows a delighted smile, shutting his eyes in relief for a small moment. Your heart races. Then, without open eyes, he pulls back from your neck, leans back upright, and trades in his powerful, deep thrusts for swift, g-spot-torturing, jabs.
Your pussy flutters and walls pulsate around him, coaxing his jaw open to a loving 'o', his sounds like gravel. "C-Cum, girl… Don't fight it," he commands. Your walls tell him so, how you clench and clench to hold back.
"Nooo," you control your breaths, full-on tears streaming out.
Worriedly, Efron glances at the hourglass. The sand is pouring out. On estimate, he's got thirty seconds.
No way. His heart skips. He was getting tired, he was about to cum too!
Efron grabs your ankle, shaking his head with a vicious bark, "You're fucking cumming, bitch." He licks a fat stripe up the bottom of your foot, using his free hand to pinch your clit simultaneously.
"Anng!! Fuck!! You--" You cum hard before you can finish your sentence, garbles of words pouring out your mouth, "aahhh-- diirty… bastard." Your cum hits you hard, your legs tense, your big toe is still abused and nicked on by Efron, clit is still played with while you orgasm.
But you can hardly complain for long, as you hear a beautiful, deep moans trail after you. "Baabyy," hot loads spray your insides, only raising the heat between you two. Swear dribbles off the top of his bald head, he's eager to swipe it off.
During his high, he breaks for a second, a rare sight as he turns in his autopilot. He continues to lick your feet like a dog, still playing with your clit, but no longer does he thrust inside you, instead, he mellows in the heat of your walls, the kiss his tip and your cervix currently share.
Overstimulation strikes like hunger pangs up you, but he's barely on this planet to realize his doings.
When he comes down, he realizes how quiet you are. Just staring at him like you've won the lottery. His pale cheeks hint at a soft pink.
"Oh yeah? You enjoyed that shit," he tries to be tough but he's delighted. He's smiling, trying not to giggle as he drops your leg, and still rubs soft, slow circles into your clit.
You squirm, "Yess."
He chuckles.
"Mmh, well, you lost, doll," he leans forward, rubbing his nose against your cheek. "Should I punish you?"
"E-even if you wanted to… you cant… you came all inside me," you croak out, voice hoarse and dead.
He laughs, shaking his head. "You're right… A draw then?" He peppers kisses onto your squishy cheek, unaware of the silent orgasm that overtakes you.
You gasp, clenching your toes vice. And when you get the chance to speak, "mm--yeaff," the overflow of cum spilling out gives you away.
Efron giggles delighted, like a schoolgirl, he slides out and pulls away, standing up and leaving the dressing room. He comes back with a glass and a wet towel, where you continue to trap as much cum as possible inside.
"Can't spill a drop, honey," he warns you with a loving, soft gaze.
You nod dumbly, "'m tryin'."
He takes the glass cup, dragging its coldness up your ass, collecting some of the overflow before lining it up with your hole. Its caressing makes a sharp ring sound, budding your anticipation.
Efron looks dead at you, strong hands giving your thigh a nice slap. He opens his mouth and pauses. Edging you, edging the command. Like a master teaching his dog when to eat. His lips move, "Release."
And with a pretty grunt, you open wide, pushing out thick ropes of mixed cum into the glass cup.
"Ff-fuck," he groans, licking his lips. He pulls through the cup into light, not caring abt the stragglers of fluid that run down your ass crack. It's a dirty sight, the cup full of a clear white, tan substance. He swirls it around as if it were wine, bringing it up to his nose. The smell is sharp, earthy, a sinful delight.
"Shhit," he drags out his words as he goes bottom up, drinking it all.
"Noo-- Effie wait-- no effie don't drink it all," you squirm and buck forward, getting his attention and kicking him with your foot. Helplessly you watch as the cup goes immediately, as he swallows with cheeks full of mixed cum. You shudder.
But he leans over, grabbing your chin and pulling your mouth wide. He pours out the rest mixture onto your tongue, and you swallow it greedily. "Mmh, Eff--" he slaps you, the sharp stink planting your cheek into the sofa. He spits on the burn he left, watching as you gasp and squirm.
"Hehe," he giggles like a girl, sitting next to you, wiping down your ass and hole, cleaning you up so nicely. His gaze is lovesick, mouth agape with a sweet pant. "You did so good for me, darling."
He picks you up, guiding your forehead to rest against his shoulder as he unlocks the chains, freeing your hands. They spring out around his neck, and his hands wrap around your waist.
"Effieee," you whine like a cat.
"Yes, my love," he's guiding you into his lap, and you wrap your legs around his waist. His hands grab your ass and stand, carrying you out of the room.
"I want a rematch… You cheated," you purr.
"All is fair in love and war," he hums.
"No-- That was cheating."
"How about a nice bath-- I'll cook dinner too."
"And you're washing dishes."
"Your wish is my command."
tags: body worshipping, edgar is a horny fuck, brief fem recieving cunnilingus, p n v, unprotected, cream pie BARELY BETAREAD
a/n: man, i just love patty
"My muse... My--" Edgar can hardly formulate his words. The heat, the friction, the aura was killing him.
Patricia sighs out, "S-Say it louder, call me louder." With each bounce on top, Patty lost more of her own composure; her approaching orgasm stealing her strength. Edgar laid beneath her, gripping her hips like reins, fucking up onto her, thwarting her power. Most of it from his own desire to fuck, fuck and nothing else. Sucked into the trance of her delicious walls, succumb to every squeeze, every delectable pulse.
Neither of them are aware of themselves. The surronding of Edgar's bedroom, the paints and canva they forgotten, fading away. Melting in each other's warmth, drowning in the hot, sweaty clothes that restrict their limbs. How they became too rowdy while painting, how they turned a sensible portrair into a messy and hungry rendezvous.
The clap of particia taut around his body. Her cunt was so warm, so dripping wet she drenched his through. How juicy she was, how her walls seemed to suck him back in every thrust. Her aura, her cadence, her beautiful pussy all had him in a trance, colors and sparks floating above his head, filling him with beautiful, enriching tales. Tales he got to create with their bodies, painting her insides, exploring his muse. It was too much to bear, the holy and the glory of patricia dorval-- truly she was stealing away his soul.
"Pat-- Patricia-- Paa," he's mewling out desperately, using his free hand to force her head down to his lips, where he greedily slurps her lips up. His thrusts grow frantic, uncoordinated, slamming deep inside, fueled by the passionate to dilute her hot, brown body with his messy sprays.
No longer did she bob on him, overtaken by her fatigue and by his sudden zeal to fuck her; allowing him to take control of her body, allowing him to steal her lips in a refreshing kiss. A kiss that was mostly doggish pants and kitten licks. With Patricia, trying her hardest to focus on not spraying the spot beneath him.
He was cunning, brushing deep in her walls, knowing what made her feel the best was the delicious stretch of her hymen, how his fatty base cracked her body wider, the feeling was more delicious than anythinf else. No matter his puppy-like precisen, it didn't matter. The strength and speed of his long dick had her surrender.
"Ed--gaar," she moans, voice high and breathless. Her head weigned heavy, she dropped it loosely on his neck, her arms folded up on his chest, all in the way much like the frustrating fabric.
"I'm going t-to release, my muse--" Edgar whines, bringing his freehand to join his other on her other ass cheek, practically slamming her down as he rushes up to meet her.
His passion, his need. It had her embarrassed and hot, shy and weak all over. It had her body purring, yearning, flithly wet, sloppy and sticky, her clit blown and throbbing, frictioning against his clothed and drenched abdomen. Her was driving her mad, her moans gruttual, desperate for a sweet release. Her pretty hands dug chunks of his white shirt, scratching, clawing, popping off a button as she shot her head up. Her clit was throbbing, eyes swelling with blissful tears.
Her orgasm, right at the door.
When she looked up at her admirers face, she saw nothing but an explicit red cheeks, bright blue eyes worshipping out to the stars, mouth hung, lips smeared with dark, black rouge. So far gone, so desperately horny, she rendered him this way.
She could barely announce herself before his combative spell --that was his frenzied face-- overtook her, forcing her into a plundering orgasm. She spat out, grunting, her waves washing down her walls, "Edgar-!! I'm-- mmaagh!"
He didn't stop, moaning out loud with her, unison bliss despite still building to his own orgasm. He moaned with her, desperate to experience the bliss he was giving her, the vexing Patricia dorval. How her hazel eyes brimmed up behind feminine, dainty lashes, how her mouth dropped open, the hazy off it all ghosted through his body, and touched his very core.
Edgar slammed her taut ass down onto his dick, bursting his fat load against her cervix, gripping her ass until his knuckles turned white. His skinny legs jolted, his frantic, animalistic teeth clamping down on his bottom lip, wasting blood as it trickled out.
He came hard, like thunder before a lightning strike, spraying her walls white, six ball-aching shots that her sultry body readily sucked up.
When he came to, he tossed his hands back on the bed beneath him, panting wildly, his crazed finally satisfied as his cock slipped out, half aroused. The high was fading, skinny body feeling tender under her curvaceous, delectable weight.
Patricia shifted once he slipped out, experiencing a second bliss as his shots oozed out with him, dragging slow and steady out her sensitive, hot, pink walls. Her jaw fell slack, eyes rolling back from the heavens to stare hungrily at the small painter.
"Woren already, Valden," she asked either a deadly, sexy snare, rising up, back to a tall straddle.
He shivered in afright, "No way-- Don't tell me," he huffed, propping himself up on his elbows to meet her gaze. Like a panther staring down at jack rabbit. Such a little rabbit could only be but a snack for a pretigous feline.
He melted all over again, taken aback by such allure. To him, how could she not be done in by now? Her sexiness knew no bounds, how it wrapped vice about his body. His dick twitched, still not quite ready for another round.
For her, how could she not be ready for more? He broke a flame within her, his primal need, his talk of painting her insides, so alluring, so culpativinf. He satisfied her and made her hungry all over again.
"This time, we'll do it right," Patricia mewls, begining to peel off her disgraceful wet gown, sliding it off over head, baring her melaninated, glowing body to him. Her dark skin, beautiful, shining like an oynx stone, her curvaceous, round body, her dark, round nipples. She was plush everywhere. No more did he rely on imagination.
Such a gorgeous hue of brown, a lovely shade in the dark, candle lit room. Such colors he never thought to paint before. Why not? He should. Hell. He will start now.
Patricia Dorval, his body bucked in response, balls surged, a strong biological attraction to her. She laughed, the sound warm and graceful. Like a swam bending across the waters.
Edgar dragged a sorry hand up her body, cupping her breast, giving it a steady squeeze. She was bell-shaped, taut, and perky. Firm and hot to the touch. The whiplash of seeing his own, unworthy pale hand against her lovely brown glow, his pink cock readied in seconds.
She slipped off his body. He cried out again, a whine as if she had physically hurt him. He's so needy-- can't she stop teasing him like this? He whips off the bed, sitting upright and closing distance.
Patricia is taken aback, barely able to laugh away her delight when her lips are stolen. As stern, skinny arms wrap around her body, palms on her shoulders, tapping away a poetic rhythm. She shuts her eyes, capturing the way he sucks and slurps at her tongue, making up for the failed kisses he gave her earlier.
She enjoys it, even as he gets rowdy again, too inspired for his own good. She pushes his shoulder, hazel eyes piercing straight through his soul, "We can't spend too much time here, painter... Undress." She says it cooly, sliding out of his grasp like a faint memory and crawling to lay back on the middle of the bed. She parts her legs wide open, revealing her sloppy, messy, wet cunt, her hymen out wide, displaying it's prior love-making. Hints of his white, sticky cum remain.
Edgar stammers, dragging off his clothes the best that he can, frustrated, huffing, as his button up knocks his nose before it's slipped off. His build is lean, hes barely taller than her, skinny, pale like moonlight, with a soft belly. He drags off pants, too careless to remember his socks, before he passionately crawls on over, eyes fixated on her body.
She laughs again, the sound is mature, elegant. It feeds him as he kisses her neck, cupping and massaging her tender breasts. The mounds are welcoming to him, she smiles as she peers down at his work, softly resting her forehead against his. He kissed her, gently on the cheek before sinking down, painting circles with his lips over her plump skin.
She's hot to the touch, inviting and wonderfully made. How lovely. He couldn't imagine Patricia hid such a beautiful secret, her loving, kind body. He dives and doesn't stop until he makes it to her throbbing clit, gratefully kissing the pussy that kindly allowed him grace into her. He milks out a long moan as he sucks in her clit, dragging her labia out of his lips.
Juices ran out her, the smell fragrant on his nose. He drives it into her core, a satisfying inquiry made in him, "Ah... So, that quaint taste is shea butter."
Her eyebrows quirk, "What??"
He states, matter-of-factly, "Well, I couldn't tell what that taste on your body was. I didnt know if it was you, or maybe a cream you used." He gestures with his eyes to the mural crafted on her stomach. How the wet spots turned cold in the air, all without his warmth.
She blinks blindly, "Oh my... Painter," she can barely curse out any words, her face hot under her cheeks. "H-How embarrassing," she grunts.
His face lights up with shame. A small squeak-like sound escapes him, before he shamefully buried himself back into her cunt, cheeks hot as he licked away, hoping to distract her. And distract her did. He licked stripes to spit her labia open, curling the tip of his tongue down to taste his own cum mixed with hers oozing her tight hole. He sucked in her pretty labia once more, deagging it out slyly, much as he did before, milking out her crazed.
He finally, finally delivered to her clit, suckinf in her shaft, welcoming it with quick laps before inviting in his finger to pull back her shaft. Her budding, round clit popped from beneath its brown hood, his eyes unable to reckon with the holy sight. Such a bright pink-- the color of love.
He greeted it with a gentle tongue, feeling her body flinch, feeling tight hand grip his light brown, wavy mop. That gentleness faded at the first sound of a moan, "mu-aah," the sound so womanly, so graceful. His balls surged heavy again. He was up and running now.
Edgar sucked and slurped up her clit, abusing it, targeting it, not letting it go away, moving with every jerk she made, following the way her hips waved. His hands clamped each side of her inner thigh, preventing her from claming herself shut from his passion, her moans wild and encouraging, despite her body's subconscious overstimulation.
"Edgarr," she whines, forcefully pulling him out of her warmth by his hair. He hissed quietly, but stared up at her like a misbehaved kitten, face smeared with her juices. His nose, shamefully dripping.
He perks up, "Yes?"
She said his name.
"Put it inside," she pants, "I beg you..." She flashed those sensitive, hazel eyes at him.
His brain went haywire. He melted at her sweetness, parting from her core as she wished. He leaned forward, supplying her with a kiss on the chin as he began to line himself up. "Right - As you require," he whispers, more to himself, trying to calm the giddiness that sprung up in his belly.
His tip reunites with her hymen once more, befriending, as her body readily guides him in. He bottoms out with a huff, leaning his skinny body over her, hands each to each side of her head. He gazed down into her deep eyes, the stare intense, powerful, bleeding. Time froze, affection budding. She ran her hands up his chest, a fond smile dusting her lips.
Oddly, she giggles, much as she did before. He chuckles curiously, grinding slow within her. "What's so funny, Patricia," he asks, eyes hazing over.
She slids an arm over his shoulders. "I truly have cursed you, haven't I..." Her hands caress his face.
He shakes his head, "What are you talking about... Have you not seen yourself..." His thrusts begin, stern, abrupt thrusts forward. She hitches, her legs tangling around his hips. "Ah... I know what it is... I'll prove to you, your beauty. Your grace..."
