Divorced Dad!Captain Syverson who experiences a real time brain short-circuit when he sees how well you get along with his kids during your first meeting with them…
Warning(s): Breeding kink, size kink, old man!Sy, age gap, manhandling, groping, fluff, boob play, unprotected p-in-v, I added plot to it TT. MDNI.
. . .
After the messy divorce that followed his turbulent marriage, Sy was not looking forward to any relations with the opposite sex, if possible. With his former profession a constant hurdle to his life as part of a unionized pair and marital bliss, what had started as a promising relationship had turned out to be one of those unfortunate marriages where children were sought as a last resort to perhaps save the remnants of the already rotten love between man and wife. Though being someone from a background that held family in the highest esteem and always having been fond of the idea of his own lot, Sy loved his children more than life itself and there was not a thing in the world he would trade for them. And that was the reason why he had preferred to opt for an early retirement so custody would not be an issue between him and his ex-wife who was more than eager to shed off everything affiliated with the name Syverson like an illness.
You, on the other hand, though not much experienced with the opposite sex were not too warm to the idea of children. Being a student in her last year of higher education and only so old as you were, your attitude hardly deserved to be subjected to scrutiny. That, and the fact that you hadn't really had many young ones around you while growing up as an only child, calling you a foreigner to the scene would not qualify as an exaggeration and hence it can be said that it is more indifference than contempt on your part.
So naturally, when it happened, it was strictly unplanned. And very fateful. With a rather traumatized Sy in a sort of an emotional limbo who had more than enough reason to keep to himself, and a stressed with soon approaching future endeavors as well as disillusioned with the opposite sex you, the night you had bumped into each other outside the bar restrooms where Sy had been dragged to cheer up by his friends and you to loosen up by yours, the rather fast yet steady rate at which the two of you had woven into each other had been unexpected to say the least.
But now, as Sy fires up the grill in his backyard to begin the little BBQ he has planned for today when you meet his children for the first time, the prided and much experienced grill expert nearly burns his hand because he is so busy inwardly fawning over how quickly his rugrats have warmed up to you. And you, Sy will swear on anything that you are just the most perfect woman— person alive. Everything is just right with you. Even on days when the world seems to press down on him, your mere presence is there to help his spirits back up and elate as well as support him in every sense.
Though he had been honest about his condition since the beginning, after his initial reluctance to get with you as you were so much younger and inexperienced compared to him, children weren't peculiarly a topic that came up between the two of you except occasions where Sy wanted to share a little victory or rant with you. So as you keep his toddler on one hip with a protective arm around her, your perfect body -Sy's words- clad in a bonny bright coloured sundress, and hold the hand of his 5 year old who excitedly shows you around the mini patio of the modern farmhouse, memories of his own mother scarce if any, your making conversation with the boy and giggling along to his lisp droning flutters Sy's heart in a way that he thought he had outgrown.
It also excites him with a kind of boyish heat that the former military Captain had thought he had shed off with his adolescent youth.
And so he just has to have you by yielding to a similar impatience and desperation, the musical sound of your giggles faintly fluttering its melodies upon his flush and thumping ears as he gets to it.
“God, Sy!” The huff in your words fires him up even more and he cannot hold back any longer. “You’re such a brute!” His coarse and scarred paws heavily pull at your dress with a crazed desperation to help you find the restroom, as he had told one of the farm hands that he had left the children under. “Oof!” The whine you let out before instinctively craning your head to try and ease the way his thick beard tickles the tender skin of the curve of your neck makes him growl into your carotid pulse that he worships with his hot lips, the pressure of your pressing your face into his as well as the soft pants you let out, your chest bumping into his with each heave of your lungs, only lithifies his bulging erection even more.
“Gon' fatten up your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum, baby” Sy's breaths scorch your clammy skin with their burning weight. His hands grope and expose you everywhere they can reach, and they can do so everywhere because of how much smaller hence ragdoll-like you are compared to him. “Wouldja like that, angel?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he boosts your thighs up his tall legs and around his waist, the fat and leaking tip of his cock grazing against your holes from how he is kissing you everywhere he can reach. “Me stuffing that cute tummy full of siblings for Tim and Bethy, huh?” You know he would never actually do something as serious so callously without a prior discussion so you breathlessly nod, pushing your oral muscles to gulp down the thick bile in your throat and tip your head against the wall to prepare yourself to withstand his intrusion of your pussy that thanks to his girth always feels like not only your first time with him but your very deflowering in general.
“Yes” your mouth falls open as he reaches below the hold with which he has your whole body propped up. “Yes, please~” his balmy tip finds its destination in the tiny, drenched and quivering closed up band that leads to your reproductive cavern. “Please fimme with your babies, Sy~” when the stretch makes your tiny hole burn around his girth, your mouth lets loose all the obscene words of vulgar desire.
“Yeah, baby?” Sy's fingers flex over your ass and caress their way up your side before coming down and repeating the action, his thumb stealing strokes of your nipples as he does. “Wanna make me a Daddy, yeah?” A hiss leaves your mouth and your back arches at the feeling of your walls sheathing him deep within themselves. His breathtaking urgency nearly puts a dent in your innards. “Want me to make you all round and heavy here?” Your pussy clenches around the hilt of his cock when he suddenly gropes your naval into a greedy handful.
“Yes, please, Sy!” Your whole form bounces up in the air when the man gives you a thrust so powerful that has you mewling and digging your nails in his shoulders. “Wanna make you a Daddy so bad, Sy!” His dick has always had a hypnotic effect on you, for the minute it's in the vicinity of any of your holes, you become a brain dead parrot for him.
“Atta girl~” he cooes, tossing your body further up with a strong stab of his hips so he can clamp his teeth down on one of your boobs.
MASTERLIST
. . .
I am MAD for this man. Like I am not even hot on kids. WHAT—
hot mean characters all have degradation and humiliation kinks, and no one can change my mind.
sure, they'll be nicer to you than they are to everyone else. but they'll be menaces in bed and just absolutely bully you while they fuck you. slut. whore. needy. bitch. these are just some of the things they call you while they pound your pussy with their cocks. they'll make it seem like they'd rather you're an obedient bunny. but they secretly love it when you're a brat because it gives them the excuse to bend you over their lap to bruise your ass or fuck you until you're dumb.
they're not selfish lovers. in fact, they'll make you cum over and over until you're shaking and crying and unable to babble anything other than their name. they'll tease you constantly, making comments about how easy they bring you to orgasm or how you're such a needy slut for cumming so much.
still, it's not just you who gets all the fun. they'll easily manhandle you, tossing you around like a ragdoll and stretching you until you're in the position they want you to be in while they fuck you mercilessly. they'll mock you when you cry, laughing at how emotional you get while being fucked by them. they'll kiss, grab, bite, smack, pinch at every inch of you that they want to, making sure to leave marks to remind you who you belong to.
they'll leave you a sobbing mess by the end of it, your body shaking from the painful pleasure they put you through while a mixture of your juices and their cum drip from your used holes.
The rain in London didn’t fall so much as it drifted, a miserable grey mist that clung to your eyelashes and ruined the expensive blowout you’d treated yourself to after finishing the final proofs for the upcoming book thriller.
Your feet were screaming. Those pointed-toe stilettos had seemed like a power move at nine in the morning, but now, at seven in the evening, they felt like medieval torture devices. You shifted the heavy leather tote on your shoulder, the weight of a dozen manuscripts and a half-eaten salad pressing into your collarbone.
As an editor at a small, boutique publishing house, your life was usually measured in word counts, dangling modifiers, and the polite neuroses of eccentric authors. You were smart, you were kind to a fault, and you had a sense of humor that usually acted as a shield against the drudgery of the corporate grind. You were also, by all accounts, beautiful, cause confidence baby, though in this moment, with your hair frizzing and your feet throbbing, you felt more like a drowned rat.
You were only two blocks from your flat, just about to take the sharp turn into the narrow cobblestone alley that served as a shortcut, when the world decided to break its own rules.
It happened in a blur of wet fabric and heavy footfalls. A man, wiry and wild-eyed, bolted around the corner, nearly knocking you off your feet. He smelled of old sweat and panic. Before you could even offer a choice piece of your mind, his hands were on you. He spun you around, his fingers digging into the fabric of your trench coat with a bruising grip.
Then came the cold, unmistakable press of metal against your temple.
“Don't move! Don't you fucking move!” the man screamed into your ear, his voice cracking with desperation.
You froze, the breath hitching in your throat. Your editor’s brain, usually so quick to find the right word, suddenly went blank. All you could focus on was the rhythmic thumping of footsteps approaching from the shadows of the alley.
Out of the mist emerged a mountain.
That was the only way to describe him. He was massive, his broad shoulders filling the width of the narrow passage. He wore a dark, perfectly tailored suit that looked entirely too expensive for a man engaged in a foot chase. His hair was neat, despite the rain, but it was his face that commanded the space. He had a thick, dark chevron moustache that gave him an air of rigid, old-world authority. His eyes were like chips of flint, cold, analytical, and entirely devoid of empathy.
“Let her go.” the man said. His voice was a deep, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in your very marrow. It wasn't a plea, it was a cold statement of fact.
“Stay back! I'll blow her head off, I swear to God!” your captor shrieked, pressing the gun harder against your skin.
You felt a spark of indignant heat flare through your terror. You weren't a character in one of your thrillers, you were a real person with a pile of laundry waiting and a very expensive pair of shoes that were currently being scuffed.
“Look, honey…” you said, your voice trembling but sharp, “you’re shaking so hard you’re going to give me a migraine before you even pull the trigger. Why don’t you put the gun down and talk to the… to the mysterious moustache man over there? He looks like he’s actually in charge of whatever mess you’ve made.”
The massive man in the suit, shifted his weight. His gaze flicked to you for a fraction of a second. It was a glare so intense it felt like a physical blow. He clearly didn't appreciate your commentary.
“Shut up!” August snapped, his eyes returning to the gunman.
“Don't tell me to shut up!” you shot back, the adrenaline finally overriding your common sense. “I'm the one with a barrel in my ear! And you! You’re getting your grimy fingerprints all over my coat. Just let me go so you two can have your little testosterone-fueled standoff in peace!”
The gunman was losing it. He looked between you and the wall of a man standing ten feet away. The pressure in the alley was mounting, the air thick with the smell of wet pavement and impending violence.
“I can't... I'm not going back!” the gunman yelled. He was overwhelmed, his mind snapping under the weight of August’s predatory stare.
In a fit of panicked, jagged movement, the man reached into his pocket with his free hand. He pulled out a pair of heavy-duty, blackened steel handcuffs, something that looked far more advanced than anything a standard beat cop would carry.
“Get over here!” the gunman barked at August. “Drop the weapon and get over here or she dies!”
August didn't drop his gun. He didn't even blink. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his presence so imposing it felt like he was sucking the oxygen out of the alley.
“You're not going to shoot her…” August said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Because the second you do, I will pull your spine out through your throat.”
The gunman lost his mind. He let out a strangled cry, pointed his gun toward the sky, and fired a deafening shot that echoed off the brick walls. You flinched, your hands flying up to cover your ears. In the chaos of the noise and the smoke, the man lunged.
He didn't shoot you. Instead, he grabbed your left wrist with a strength born of pure hysteria. With a sickening clack-hiss, one side of the cuffs snapped shut around your wrist.
Before you could scream, August was on him. It was like watching a freight train hit a car. August didn't move like a normal man, he moved with a brutal, economic violence. He slammed into the gunman, his fist connecting with the man's jaw in a sound like a breaking branch.
But as the gunman fell back, he managed one last act of spiteful desperation. He grabbed August’s right hand and, with a final, frantic shove, snapped the other end of the cuffs onto August’s wrist.
The gunman scrambled away, disappearing into the darkness of the main street, leaving his gun behind in the puddle. August started to give chase, his body coiling to spring, but he was jerked back with a violent snap.
You were yanked off your feet, stumbling into his side. It was like hitting a brick wall made of muscle and expensive wool.
“Ow! Dammit!” you yelled, clutching your arm.
August stopped. He looked down at his right wrist, then followed the dark, high-tech chain to your left wrist. He tried to pull away, testing the strength of the bond. The chain between the cuffs began to hum softly, extending from its housing in the cuff itself. It grew longer about three to four feet of reinforced, shimmering wire but as soon as August stopped pulling, it retracted slightly, keeping the tension firm.
He reached into his pockets, his movements stiff and furious. He searched the ground where the gunman had been. Nothing.
“He doesn't have the key!” August growled, the words sounding like they were being ground between stones.
“The key? Use your own! Aren't you a cop? A spy? A giant, angry lumberjack in a suit?” You were panting, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Get this thing off me!”
August turned his full attention to you. Up close, he was even more terrifying. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the fine lines of irritation around his eyes. “These aren't standard issue. They're magnetic-lock prototypes. There is no keyhole, Y/n.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “How do you know my name?”
He reached into the open flap of your tote bag, which was still dangling from your shoulder, and pulled out your ID badge from the publishing house. He glanced at it and shoved it back in. “I know everything I need to know. And right now, what I know is that you’re an anchor I don't fucking need.”
“An anchor?” You let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. “You're the one who let the guy cuff us! You're the professional! I was just trying to go home and eat some mediocre pasta!”
“Shut your mouth and move!” he commanded, giving the chain a sharp tug. It didn't hurt, thanks to the extension mechanism, but the sheer force of his movement forced you to follow.
“Where are we going? We need to find a locksmith! Or a welder! Or a priest!”
August didn't slow down. He began walking toward the mouth of the alley, his stride long and relentless. You had to practically jog to keep up, your heels clicking unevenly on the wet stones.
“We're going to my extraction point.” he said, not looking back. “And if you say one more word about my moustache or a locksmith, I’m going to make you regret having a tongue.”
“Oh, we are well past the point of me being intimidated, Moustache Man!” you snapped, though your voice lacked its usual bite. You were exhausted, cold, and tethered to a man who looked like he could kill a person with a stern look. “You've got a gun, a very expensive suit, and zero people skills. I’ve spent ten years editing the egos of narcissistic novelists. You don’t scare me.”
August stopped so abruptly you ran into his back again. He turned, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. He grabbed the chain between you, winding it around his hand until you were pulled flush against his chest. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of rain, gun oil, and something distinctly masculine and sharp.
“Listen to me, darling…” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous, his face inches from yours. “I am in the middle of a high-level retrieval. The man who just ran off has information that could burn half of Europe. I don’t have time for your 'smart' commentary, and I certainly don't have time to be 'kind.' You are going to keep your head down, you are going to walk where I tell you to walk, and you are going to stay out of my way. If you don't, I will carry you like a sack of flour. Am I clear?”
You stared up at him, your breath hitching. He was brutal, he was arrogant, and he was undeniably the most imposing man you had ever encountered. But you weren't going to let him see you crumble.
“Crystal,” you whispered back, your eyes defiant. “But if I lose a shoe because you’re walking too fast, you’re buying me a new pair. And they’re Louboutins.”
August stared at you for a long beat, his jaw tightening. For a second, you thought he might actually crack a smile, or break your neck. Instead, he just let out a sharp exhaling grunt of annoyance and turned back toward the street.
“Fine.” he muttered. “Keep moving.”
“Listen you didn't ask me if I want to come with you!”
“ We are past that and now not word!”
As you stepped out into the neon-lit street, tethered to a man who was a different species of human altogether, you realized your quiet life of manuscripts and coffee was officially over. You were chained to a storm, and there was no way out but through.
The rain continued to fall, the silver chain between your wrists shimmering under the streetlights, a constant, unbreakable reminder that your worlds had not just collided, they were now inextricably fused.
Title: Full Attention
Pairing: Dark!August Walker x Female Reader
Warnings: Explicit Content, Minors DNI, 18+, Power Play, Degradation, Restraint, Overstimulation, dub con, spit (…in a mood)
Words: 277 words
A/N: Entry for January Jumble Scribbles @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: Jan 6th “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Your wrists burned where he’d pinned them above your head, one of his large hands wrapped around both, holding you down like it was nothing.
Your back arched. Legs spread. His hips slammed into yours with a force that had the bedframe groaning and your breath catching in your throat.
“Don’t look away,” August warned, voice low and rough.
You turned your head, panting…eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built.
He didn’t like that.
His hand shifted from your wrists to your jaw, forcing your face back to his. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
You gasped as he shoved deeper, the blunt weight of him punching another cry from your lips. You didn’t dare close your eyes again.
“That’s better,” he growled. “Eyes on me while I use you.”
Your skin was slick, your thighs trembling, every nerve stretched tight and tingling. He filled you, possessed you, the agents pace relentless, your body already long past any edge of control.
“Thought you were a tough little thing,” he mocked, his breath hot against your cheek. “Where’s all that mouth now, huh?”
You whimpered, lips parting..but no words came. Just broken sounds and his name caught between moans.
He spat down on your chest, watching it drip between your breasts as he drove into you harder.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you like being used.”
“I like it,” you breathed, voice wrecked
“Yeah, you do,” he snarled. “So fucking pretty when you’re broken for me.”
His hand slid back to your throat, pinning you more.
You kept your eyes on him, even as they filled with tears.
Synopsis: CIA agent August Walker has spent years surviving bloodshed, betrayal, and the ghosts of missions gone wrong. But when his superior forces him into therapy after a particularly brutal operation, he finds himself locked in a different kind of battle—one with her, the sharp, unshakable therapist determined to break through his defenses. She knows getting too close to him is a mistake, but when she stumbles into a deadly conspiracy, letting him in might be her only chance at survival.
Pairing: August Walker x Fem!Reader
Genre: 18+, dark romance, action, thriller
Warnings: 18+, explicit smut, violence, minors DNI
A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me
My Masterlist
When the elevator dings and the doors open, he holds out an arm to let you enter first. As you step inside, you catch the eye of your coworker, who is making an obscene gesture with her hands. You can’t exactly blame her. You did just get into an elevator with the damn CEO of Walker Logistics LLC.
That’s right. You and August Walker are in an elevator on the way to his private office to speak more discreetly.
A million different things went through your mind when he first asked you to step away to his office, and it showed on your face when you first stuttered through an excuse to stay at the party.
“Tell you what, why don’t we just continue our conversation about your ideas over better booze than what they have down here? I’ll behave as long as you do,” he offers, his sonorous baritone washing over you like a warm bath.
It was more than easy to agree with him; he just had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room.
As the elevator lifts, August leans against the left wall while you stand in the center. You try to maintain the silence that is only interrupted as the floor indicator dings every few seconds. The anxiety of feeling like you have to perform is strong, and you want to come up with something that he will find interesting.
But all you can come up with is, “You know, you can’t say happiness without saying penis.”
August’s head whips to you so fast, you think his neck may have broken. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Sometimes, when I’m nervous, I spout useless trivia. It’s the worst superpower,” you admit, hoping he would let it go.
“Sex is ten times more effective than Valium. So, maybe we shouldn’t be so coy,” he hums, pushing off of the wall and coming to stand next to you when the elevator stops.
When the doors open, you are greeted with quite a sight. The entirety of the top floor is closed off by walls, except for his secretary’s desk, which sits just outside double doors.
You are so surprised by the fact that you are in the CEO’s space that you just gawk at everything while staying in the elevator. It’s only when August stops the doors from closing on you that you close your mouth and follow him to the doors to his office.
Once they open, you’re greeted with a modern office space with two conference rooms around the left and right corners. His L-shaped desk sits in the center of the room, and the polished ebony wood stain reflects the lights of the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the back wall. A leather sofa and armchair set that seems rather inviting fills the carpeted area in front of the mini-bar. You spy the bookshelves that line the right and left walls and wonder to yourself if he’s even read half of them.
Walking around the desk, your feet carry you to the right bookcase. You read the titles of book after book about business and the economy. How fucking boring!
From his spot at the mini-bar, August gets your attention. “So, what would the lady like to drink while she snoops?”
“I’m not snooping. Just looking,” you advise, your fingers swiping the various spines as you walk toward him. “And I would love some bourbon if you have it. No ice.”
“I think I’ll join you,” he remarks, retrieving two lowball glasses and a decanter of the amber liquid. Pouring about two fingers into one glass and then the other. He takes both glasses and places them on the glass coffee table that sits between the sofa and the two comfy chairs. He picks up his drink and turns to you. “What shall we toast to?”
The anxiety running through you is replaced by lust as you join him on the couch, close enough to feel his body heat. Pheromones must be wafting in the air because he smells like sex on legs. You bend forward to pick up your bourbon, and the top of your dress reveals some cleavage. Out of the corner of your eye, you see August tilt his head as he sneaks a peek.
“To not being coy,” you insist, offering your raised glass.
August clinks his glass with yours and says, “To not being coy.”
You both take a sip and when you put your drink down after a sizable gulp, August mirrors you and sits back against the couch. You turn, and he is watching you with hungry eyes. Now or never, you think to yourself.
Leaning in, you kiss the smirk right off his face. His soft, pink lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. Deepening the kiss, you allow him entry and massage his tongue with yours as you move to his lap. His hands caress your thighs before sliding up your leg to land on your hips. You know what he is after, so you start to rock your hips and are awarded with a deep rumble of a groan from August.
With his hands grabbing onto your ass, you grow bold and swivel your hips once, then twice. As August bucks up into you, you whimper, and he breaks the kiss. Maintaining eye contact, he reaches up your dress and stops when his fingertips touch your panties.
“May I take these off?” he asks, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip as he looks up at you.
“Fuck, yes,” you yelp, your desire becoming too much to handle.
With your permission, he pulls them down your legs as far as they will go with you kneeling in his lap. Positioning you to lay back on the couch, he removes them completely, then dives in between your legs with his hands wrapped around your thighs to hold you close.
He kisses your inner thighs before focusing on your wet pussy. To say he must have been starving for you is an understatement. The way he licks from your hole to your swollen nub was just this side of overwhelming. Swirling his tongue around your pearl, he waits until you begin to buck your hips to take your clit into his mouth.
Your hands go to his hair, clutching his chestnut locks as he sucks your soul out of your body. You’re near tears when he slowly inserts a finger between your folds. You barely hold yourself together as he strokes your inner walls, paying attention to the inner bundle of nerves that drives you wild.
Inserting another finger, he picks up his speed while massaging your G-spot. Listening to your body, he knows that you are on the very edge. One wrong move, and he could ruin it completely.
But, lucky for you, he knows what he is doing.
He lets your clit slip past his lips, changing his tactic. Flicking his tongue up and down on your bud while adding a third finger to stretch you out, he puts on a master class at foreplay. Within moments, the hold you have on your faculties is all but forgotten as you are brought to orgasm. Your walls clench around his fingers, and he continues to play with your sweet spot. The noise of your sopping hole echoes in the office.
“That’s it; let it go. Such a good girl for me. So fucking delicious, too,” he praises, talking you through it. “You sound so fucking sexy right now.”
When you come down from your high, August is right there to kiss away the tear that escapes your eye as he caresses you. Your entire body is afire with sensations. His hands on you feel feather-soft. Looking up into his face, you can’t help but bring him down to kiss him. The kiss starts slow, but as it continues, tongues and teeth make an appearance. He nibbles and sucks on your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from deep in your throat.
He breaks the kiss again to kiss and nip at your jaw and neck. You wrap a leg around his waist, shoving your hand between you to stroke him through his slacks. The groan from him at the contact radiates through you. You can tell he has a monster under those clothes, and you want it.
Echoing his politeness from earlier, you speak up, “May I?”
“Please,” he gushes, sitting on his heels to give you better access.
You unzip and unbutton him, reaching inside to take him out. You thank him silently for prepping you with three fingers, because damn. The uncut snake in his pants is heavy in your hands. While you want nothing more than to have it inside you, you would also love to gag on it. August’s hand under your chin lifts your face until your eyes meet.
“As much as I would love your pretty lips around me, I need to be inside you,” he implores, his thumb ghosting over your lips. “I promise you can choke on it later.”
You gasp as he removes your hand from his dick and pushes you slightly to lay back down. He throws your legs over his shoulders, lining himself up with your core, before pushing in slowly. He takes his time, letting you get used to being so filled and allowing him to adapt to your tight heat.
Folding you into yourself, he retracts his hips and thrusts forward. You groan in unison. Pulling out until just the tip remains inside you, he slams back in, kissing your cervix with his cockhead. He picks up the speed, and you can hear how fucking wet you are. The sloshy slaps of flesh on flesh are enough to have you close to orgasm already.
The entire room smells like sex, and it is intoxicating. Your gasps and whines as he fucks you only spur him on to help you chase after your climax. Parting your legs, he grips your thighs, fucking into you harder and faster. The look of determination on his face has you reaching down to play with your sensitive clit.
He swats your hand away in favor of using his fingers to make you cum around him. It happens quicker than you planned, a testament to his expertise. He fucks you through your release, your overworked pussy leaving cream all over his cock. He slows down to a more intimate pace as you come back to yourself.
You tangle a hand in his messy curls and pull him down to kiss you. With your hand on his hip, you urge him to move again. He kisses you deeper as his hips pick up the pace fucking you. You swallow every grunt and grumble from his thrusts. When his lips part from yours, you see the want in his eyes. You know he’s close by the way his hips stutter and his dick twitches.
Tightening your legs around his waist, you push your heel into his ass, and he gets the hint.
“You want my cum? Ugh, fuck, I’m so close. Shit! Argh, fuck,” he gasps, his cock spasming as he spills inside you. He collapses on top of you with his face in your neck, and you rub his back while he comes down.
Once his softening length slips from you, he grunts and picks himself up to sit back on his heels. He watches as his cum leaks out of you and licks his lips. He gets up and tucks himself away before motioning for you to stay right where you are. He grabs a towel from the mini-bar, coming back to clean up his mess from between your legs. He tosses the towel on the coffee table and picks up his drink to take a sip.
“I wasn’t lying earlier, you know,” he discloses, moving to sit down when you pull yourself into a seated position.
“Huh?” you ask, wracking your brain to find out what he’s talking about.
“I still want to hear your ideas on how to expand our market reach. I mean, you don’t even work in our marketing department, and your ideas have my attention,” he praises, his voice sincere in tone.
“I do have a few ideas on how the company can grow,” you beam, happy to be noticed. “But I think I’d like to discuss that first thing on Monday. Right now, I’d rather enjoy this bourbon and spend time not talking about work. If you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind at all,” he affirms, sipping his drink before smiling at you. “I am actually looking forward to Monday for a change. But before then, would you let me take you to dinner? I promise there will be no work talk.”
You look into your glass, swirling the amber liquid while you think about it for all of three seconds. “I’ll let you take me to dinner on one condition,” you advise, a smirk playing on your lips.
“And what would that be?” he asks, his arm going to the back of the couch.
“You let me choke on it before tonight is over,” you flirt, holding in a giggle.
The way his eyes darken is a thing of beauty. He lowers his drink from his lips and says, “Fuck, where did that coy little thing go? I’m not complaining, by the way. I’ll make sure you get a taste; don’t you worry.”
You suddenly feel very warm, and you can’t believe this man is real. You wonder how his words can make you want nothing more than to kiss him until you can’t breathe. You put down your glass after downing the last bit in one go. Liquid courage, don’t fail me now, you think to yourself.
August puts down his glass and leans back. You crawl into his lap again, a knee on either side of his hips. Entwining a hand in his hair, you lean forward and capture his lips again. This time, the kiss is slow and sensual. Your tongue dances with his until your lips touch again. Nipping at his bottom lip elicits a whimper from him that is music to your ears.
His hands move to your ass, gripping the globes as if his life depended on it. When one hand leaves, you only miss it for a second before it lands back on your cheek with a slap. You moan into his mouth, and you can feel the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.
He’s got you right where he wants you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
A/N: This story was super fun to write. I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!
Relationship: August Walker x princess!female reader
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (non-con, bondage, manhandling, cum marking), mean August, size difference, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!
A/N: I love a bad boy so much and I’m not even a little bit sorry about it. If I’m going to hell, so be it.
August grinned as he walked through the horde’s camp, holding the head of his conquered foe high and roaring before tossing it to one of his clansmen and instructing them to boil it so he could add the skull to his collection. His blood was still up from the battle, and there was only one thing on his mind. He took a mug of grog from someone before throwing aside the flap to his tent and striding inside.
“Little princess!” August threw his head back and howled with laughter when you flailed against your bindings as soon as you saw him, taking a swig of grog before setting the tankard down and starting to remove his leathers. “Did you miss me, little one?”
“Fuck you!” You spat at him when he reached out to demeaningly pat your cheek.
“That’s rude language from such a pretty princess,” This time he slapped you, licking his tusks lasciviously when you gasped and shuddered. “I’m assuming this means you’re still rejecting my proposal.”
“Of course I’m rejecting it!” You thrashed even more, determined to get free from your bindings even though you had no luck in your attempts during the past few weeks of your captivity. “I’ll never be the mate of a filthy, murdering orc bastard!”
“Tsk, how disappointing,” the way you were writhing and squirming against your bindings was making him hard, as it always did, and it only got better when you screamed furiously as he began to undo his breeches. “It’s not as though you have many options, princess. I just killed another one of those suitors of yours who thought he could rescue you. His skull is going to look rather fine hanging around my neck with those of the other failures.”
That made your already fraught emotions sink even lower, but you were determined not to let him see you cry. There were now four different prince’s and their armies who had tried to take you back from the horde after they had pillaged your family’s kingdom. Every single one of them was dead, along with their armies, and you didn’t know how many more would make the attempt now that so many had been killed. A sense of dread started to settle over you at that thought, but you refused to be defeated. So you just continued to struggle against the ropes that bound you, glaring at him and ignoring the way your eyes stung with unshed tears.
“I fucking hate you,” you kept your eyes fixed on his face while he pulled out his massive cock and started to stroke it over your restrained body. “You’re disgusting and I’ll never be yours.”
“Your stubbornness only makes the fact that you’ll eventually break all the more delicious,” August snorted when you jerked away from him as he gave your head a condescending pat, slapping you instead as his fist kept moving over his cock. “You have no other choice, princess. I’m going to have you no matter what, it will go easier for you if you submit willingly.”
You just snarled at him, tired of telling him to fuck himself and deciding to just try to ignore him instead. It was difficult, though, especially when he gripped your face and forced you to watch as he stroked his cock over your squirming body. The worst thing was that you were getting wet as you kept struggling, and he could tell, a wicked grin spreading across his face when his precum started to drip on your already soiled gown.
August just grunted with annoyance when you pouted and closed your eyes, rolling his own before taking his hand off your face so he could yank at the ropes binding you until they were flung over one of the tent beams so you were suspended in midair.
“Stop, what are you doing?!” You shrieked when he shredded your gown so it fell off you in tatters and left you naked as you dangled in front of him. “You bastard! Put me down!”
“Always fucking complaining. You’re lucky I don’t decide to shut you up by skullfucking you, princess,” he chuckled when that made you finally fall silent as your eyes lit up with terror. “Don’t look so scared, like you don’t enjoy everything I do to you. Remember how messy you got when I broke you in?”
“Shut up… stop it!” You thrashed wildly when he shot his thick cum all over your stomach and thighs, screaming when he grabbed one of your legs and propped it on his shoulder so you were spread wide open for him. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
He ignored you, smearing his fingers through the thick mess he’d left all over before reaching between your legs so he could rub his seed all over your swollen pussy. His first smack caught you completely off guard, making you wail when his hand cracked against your quivering folds so hard you almost blacked out. But then he leaned down and kissed you and you were brought back to consciousness against your will, gagging at the taste of grog on his tongue while his hand started slapping your cunt over and over again.
His treatment was brutal, it always was, but still your body responded to him. You cried and choked on his tongue as his fingers struck your pussy at a brutal pace, hating that each time he smacked your sensitive flesh you gushed juices all over his hand and trembled from barely controlling your climax. You held out longer than you would have thought you’d be able to, but after twenty minutes there was nothing you could do. August grinned and spat into your mouth when you sobbed as you squirted everywhere, rubbing your raw and sore folds viciously while you spasmed through your climax. As soon as you were done he released his hold on the ropes and let you drop to the floor, laying on his bed of furs and picking up his tankard of grog again as he watched you whimper and squirm.
“When are you gonna admit how much you enjoy this shit, princess?” August nudged you with his foot to turn you over and chuckled when you whined. “If you can handle this you should be able to actually survive carrying my baby. Of course you will be much more comfortable if you’re not bound and restricted during your pregnancy. So why don’t you take the night to think about how much better your life will be if you actually accept a role as my mate instead of just a brood mare.”
You sobbed when he rose to his feet and pulled his breeches back on, leaving you alone in his tent to consider just how miserable you wanted your future to be.
Summary: When you nearly compromise The Organization on a job because of your impulsiveness, your boss August Walker decides it's time for a demotion; since you clearly still have much training ahead of you.
Disclaimer: I sadly do not own August Walker or any of the other Henry Cavill characters mentioned. This is a mature and morally gray story so browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact.
Warning(s): D/s dynamics, m!dom, f!sub, the relationship is probably morally gray, slapping, throat fucking, power imbalance, pet names, hair pulling, deep throating, gun play, smut with plot (I am sorry I just couldn't stop), humiliation, degradation, camera play.
Note: Oh, my God! It's finally here, first Auggie fic go boom~
MASTERLIST
✟
"You're out, do not call again." You sighed into the phone and momentarily shut your eyes in frustration as you kept an eye out through the window of the dingy motel that you crouched next to, trying to stay one with the darkness of the room.
"Boss…" It had taken you risking your life to buy a new sim card just to get him to pick up your call. "Come on, the whole thing would have gone south–"
"You have been told more times than can be counted to not take matters into your own hands" your form stiffened when you noticed a man from a rival gang casually stroll by the motel as he pretended to be a passerby. Fuck. As your eyes scanned the area you realized that you were slowly getting surrounded. "If anything goes against the plans it is protocol for the team to regroup and–"
"Boss… The Angels…" Had it not been August on the line, you would have masked the panic in your voice with not much effort or hesitation. "T- They're here…" There was a brief silence.
And then;
"That's your problem now, Y/n" your throat tightened when he did not use your gang alias. "I told you" there was shuffling on his side. Sweat broke out on your skin. That meant he was done with the conversation. "You're out."
The line went dead.
Your tongue felt swollen as you glanced at the briefcase you had put everything on the line for.
Just to lose anyways.
Yes, alright. Maybe you had ignored Marshall's order to abort the mission and fought off Shaw because Kent had been incompetent enough to mess up hacking the target car's engine in time. And yes, maybe you had risked exposure by following the vehicle. But the fact of the matter was, no one had died and the asset was recovered all the same. The mask that you wore on missions had ensured the protection of your identity and though anyone from your line of work could tell it was Walker's notorious Wraith, no identifiable features meant no evidence.
But no.
How could things ever end that easily?
Solo being the asshole that he was just had to rat about the entire ordeal to Walker.
Okay sure, maybe you had to shake off cops because one of the men inside the car had noticed you following them. And maybe you had had to wait for the streets to cool off for the rest of the day but that did not mean you had betrayed them by running away with the asset or something!
Even if you had gotten caught -which you never did; hence your alias-, your boss should have known that you would sooner die tortured in a shithole slammer cell than rat.
You bit your tongue as you tossed the phone on the table after breaking the sim card, watching the inevitable unfold before you with vigilant eyes that stung from the moisture accumulating behind them as you readied what little weapons that you had on hand.
The growing tightness in your throat was tugging at the back of your oral muscle and your jaw was aching from the strength it took you not to cave into emotion. But you held your nose high and snorted at the rivals– enemies before rolling your moist eyes at them. You could not help but critique them even then because if they were trying to blend in, they were frankly doing a shit job.
"Of course" you snickered as you got up and went to stash the briefcase in the best spot you could find.
The Diablos had teamed up with The Angels and the irony of that was not lost on you.
So it took the State's top two gangs -that were arch rivals under usual circumstances- to bring The Wraith down, huh?
Being young and impulsive as you were, you had pissed all the wrong people off under August's wing. You had earned it through your knack for casual brutality which was so devastating and sickening in nature that it seemed something innate for you.
But now that the affiliation was gone, it seemed everyone wanted a piece of the once mighty Wraith.
You burst into a cold chuckle again.
All these men just to try to take down one girl, huh?
Crouching behind the bed with your gun aimed at the door after you had successfully hidden the cause of your demise in the most secure spot you could find -not wanting your foes to succeed even now-, you sucked in an icy breath and braced yourself for what was coming. "Here goes" you whispered to yourself as you pushed your airpods in your ears and blasted your music through them probably one last time.
For if these were the last minutes of your life, you wanted to go out guns blazing with your favorite tunes blocking the ugly out.
That, and the emotions that were trying to dominate your mind and crawl down your eyes in your body's attempt to deal with the overwhelming sentiments surging through your body like electricity.
No.
August Walker's Wraith didn't do emotions–
Wait.
Fuck.
You bit your tongue as you cussed at yourself. You did not belong to anyone.
Especially not an asshole who had the audacity to doubt your intentions even after you had submitted to him everything you had had to offer.
Service, body, mind, soul… heart.
Your true drive behind striving to always get the job done was only to please him. It had been for a long time at this point. And so yes, you sometimes resorted to undesirable, disobedient means to achieve the goal but it was all only to make him happy.
Richer.
Contrary to the popular belief which had been spread around The Organization by Solo, you did not do it to move up the hierarchy. At least, not anymore. Sure, ambition had been your initial motivation before everything but nothing in the world mattered except for Master anymore.
… The same Master that had abandoned you when you needed him most.
A humorless snicker escaped you at the thought and you couldn't help but shake your head. At the end, you were just like all those foolish girls that had come before you in different shapes and forms, belonging to different times and contexts; discarded cold and teary eyed at a crossroads for anyone willing in the end.
You had gotten lost in your thoughts, eyes focused on the door but peripherals ignorant to your surroundings; the flashes bouncing off the windows and the smoke of dust and gas permeating the air outside.
You lost track of the minutes and songs that passed in mere fleeting moments to you as you forced yourself to recall basically everything despite the agony that you felt. You deserved the torture. A reflection on your entire life and how futile it had turned out to be in the end was important. It was only fair.
A man had been your undoing, this sentence wasn't enough. But it was all you knew in the moment.
You were so completely focused on denying yourself any tears that you failed to take notice of a member of The Angels slamming into the glass of one of the windows as he was obliterated with some 7mm bullets.
It was only when the door shook by getting kicked that your heart and body jumped alike; pulling you back to the present, your heart strings tugging. Your hand tightened around your weapon. This is it. Clenching your jaw tight, you stabilized your breathing and waited for the enemy to kick the door in. The thought of just how pathetically you were cornered made you snicker as you shook your head.
Only, when the door swung free and you went to press the trigger did your chuckle die in your throat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Your heart weighed down in your chest until it was too much for your chest to hold and it let the organ fall into your stomach.
Your breaths tightened.
The strength from your lungs drained.
Your fingers yanked the melodies away from your ears faster than you could register.
Almost as though your body was suddenly on autopilot.
"B- Boss…?"
The silhouette of a seething August blocked the doorway, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each pant of his breaths as his lungs churned. When his fingers roughly clawed at the switchboard to turn the lights on, his dark, glossy eyes came into your view before the rest of him did.
The man was covered in blood as his pistol that held a metallic hue glinted in one of his hands. If you didn't know any better you would have said it seemed as though brief relief washed over his otherwise furious face when his bulging eyes finally located you in the room. Though his face instantly hardened of any emotion the moment it happened. His jaw clenched tighter as his eyebrows drew apart from each other, the cold blue of his eyes that were livid with chaos somewhat calming down while you gaped at him in shock.
The Boss never came down to the field himself.
You had heard it had been a long time since he had last done it.
… All you had asked was for some backup.
What were you to make of this?
How–
"Kneel" oh.
But Master could.
And he had.
A ghost of a smile played on your lips as you rose and walked over to the middle of the room quicker than you could think, eyes wide and glassy. Your weapon slipped through your fingers the same time as when you collapsed on your knees in front of him; awaiting his next command with all the self-respect and ego you had conjured up in the last few minutes long forgotten.
Nothing else mattered anymore.
For Master was here.
There was no need for you to think anymore.
All that needed to be done now was to sit back and obey without question.
August calmly walked over to you and stopped when he was towering over you, letting out an intentionally exaggerated sigh as he propped the tip of his weapon under your chin. "Liability" he had called you that the day Gus -your mentor and guardian figure in the whole organization- had finally presented you to him; The Boss, after months of trials.
Your bottom lip wobbled with all that was cycloning through your head but you dared not speak.
He had a way of making you feel so small and vulnerable it melted away your resolve every time.
"Impulsive" the back of August's free hand that was covered in splatters of blood struck across your face and your head lolled to the side. "Stubborn" now your other cheek was caught in his fingers and you let your face swing free in the direction of the slap. Master was the only man who could treat you that way and you were nothing to deny him of his wishes.
The barrel of his gun brought your chin back to the center again. "Headstrong" as another strike caused your face to sway in the same humiliating way, the knowledge that were he some other man you would have torn your revenge for treating you like this out of him sent tremors down your abdomen.
You could but you wouldn't.
Because it was August; the sole proprietor of your entire existence.
The tip of his Sig Sauer brought you back in idle position again. "Non-compliant" as you received another harsh strike, you bit back your rising ire for though you submitted to him wholeheartedly, getting pushed around had never been your forte.
But Master can do whatever he wants, you're his for treating however he desires.
He was worthy of being worshiped.
Maybe he was the only man who deserved such service.
And perhaps that was the reason why your hips clenched as hard as they did each time he treated you like you were nothing but part of the dirt under his shoe.
Like right now.
August centered you again and your insides threatened to boil over when you noticed that the broken door was open wide as it swayed with the gentle breeze of the night, the gap helping the guys to a perfect view of the inside of the room.
You.
And Master.
Whilst Syverson and Phillips had the decency -the latter probably only because you were a daughter figure to him- to look away, Solo, Shaw and Kent watched on shamelessly as they stood clutching their rifles, ready to shoot down any potential threat.
"Disobedient" as your head lolled aside again, you felt your cheek sting just a bit harder than the other one due to the way your teeth dug in it, the gazes from outside only making it all the more worse.
Your eyes traveled back to Master's darker, much stern ones. Fuck. You felt hot slick pool in your underwear. "Amateur" a whimper escaped you as the realization that the others could see you so vulnerable and submissive pricked the skin of your ears. "Overconfident" besides, this very personal dynamic you shared with your boss was private and none of your colleagues knew about it. So either August was ignorant of the door or he was so serious about whatever he was about to do to you, he didn't care.
Although, since the man had an extremely vigilant nature, you doubted the former was the case.
Which only left you with the latter conclusion…
This time around, your face was recentered -you were never to do that yourself unless ordered to do so- not with the Sauer but with a harsh grip on your hair. "Seems to me you were not trained well enough to know your place, little girl" he had bent down to put his face in close proximity to yours, pulling you up by the grip he had on your head to meet him halfway.
Your lips fell agape as your knees burned, shaking just a little as you tried to triumph the induced Parkinson's. It was not easy to make the Wraith tremble. But championing impossibilities had always been August Walker's specialty. "Y- Yes, Master…" Cold, shaky breaths left you as you trembled under his glare. Your loins ignited to life and you couldn't help but subconsciously rock your hips against empty air. "P- Please t- teach me, Master…" You risked speaking out of turn, determined to win him back no matter what for you no longer remembered how it was like to function without him.
Without the sense of sanity and balance his commands created for you.
And you were not willing to relearn it.
Ever.
"Hm" August mused with obvious sarcasm. "Or," he let go of your hair and stood back up to his full height, raising the gun before pressing the cold, bloody tip to your forehead, "I could save us all a whole lot of time and just put you out of everyone's misery." His thumb moved to click the safety off, the sound flipping your stomach in the most vile of ways, none of which were concern for your wellbeing.
"Whatever you deem fit, Master" keeping your eyes trained on him, you went on a limb and slowly moved to crane your head backwards and let the barrel crown trail between your eyebrows and down your nose. "Thank you, Master" the silent yet bright rage in his cold blue orbs caused for a shiver to run down your spine.
Suddenly, the certainty that you were now sure to survive the night that had kindled after his arrival was extinguished just like that.
And yet, you parted your lips when the beginning of the barrel reached your mouth, sheathing it in your oral cavity and between your cheeks, the length causing them to hollow as you looked up at him. The metallic taste of the blood spatters that the Sauer was covered in caused your taste buds to sting as it further invaded your balmy cavern and the apex scratched against your throat. You tried not to cough, breathing through the nose as your hips helplessly rocked again with a mind of their own, the discomfort in the back of your mouth bringing tears to your eyes.
You were too far gone for this man.
And there was no rationalizing or denying it.
"Now that's more like the pet I raised" your pussy clenched and you whined softly, wanting nothing more for the still seething man to take you against every surface available in the most depraved of ways. Each one that you were familiar with. "Remembering your place already, aren't you?" His now eased up breathing slowly started to clamber again as he reached for his fly with his free hand, pistoning the weapon in and out of your mouth to demonstrate how his cock was about to defile your mouth. Though you were to never move a single muscle out of turn, you could not help but bob your head along the Sauer in a horizontal fashion while your holes clenched again.
You had come too close today.
It could never happen again… if your boss would even allow there to be another time, that was.
But for now, there were amends that needed making.
"Now then, what do we say?" August nearly slithered as he pulled the Sauer out of your mouth but didn't holster it, instead letting it dangle by one hand whilst the other tangled in your hair to pull you closer to his cock.
"Want you in me, Master…" You resisted the urge to just open your mouth and move up on it.
You had angered him enough for a while.
"Want me?" You cowered at his faux amusement that came out as a growl due to how enraged he was.
"N- No…"
"No?" You gulped to yourself before trying again.
"No–" you shook your head in panic, raking your mind to come up with an appropriate response. "I- I mean… N- Need you, Master…" Yes, that was certainly better. "Please…" Your bottom lip quivered as your words wavered with a pleading wanton in them. "N- Need you."
"And where do you need me?" The lack of contempt in his manner indicated that you were on the right track. Or at least somewhere near it.
"M- Mouth, M- Master…" Your nails dug into your thighs as you tried your best to hold back from touching him.
Disobedient girls didn't deserve to touch their Masters.
"And why do you need me in your mouth?" He let go of your hair to pump his monstrous girth a couple times as he stroked your cheek with the barrel of the Sauer.
"T- To fuck my face, Master." You answered honestly, completely ignorant of how shocked Kent was at what was unfolding.
Usually you were much more vigilant than this single minded mess you had become, but this was just the effect August had on you.
"Is that right?" A twisted smirk made its way on his face. "And why do you need me to do such a humiliating thing to you, little girl?" You hadn't realized that your heart was thumping until its erratic beating began to put strain on your chest.
"To be reminded of my place, Master." That seemed to finally create at least a semblance of satisfaction and your Master allowed you the tip of his cock at last.
"And where is your place?" He waited patiently even though his body was clearly having a hard time holding back now that your warm lips circled his leaking tip.
"Under you" you spoke through a mouthful of dick. "On my knees" you tried to kiss it to show your devotion but the puckering of your lips caused a loud suckling sound. His features twitched. "At your service, always" something else, a hungry dark, now mixed in with the bright lividness of his cold blue eyes and he grunted before pulling you closer by your hair, trailing the gun all the way down to your chest now.
"That's right" he let go of your hair to slap your cheek before resuming his hold on the strands, grunting at the way his cock felt the vibration of his own palm from when he had struck you. "And you better remember that the next time you want to break protocol" your eyes widened in realization and hope flashed in your eyes.
A chance.
You tried to respond but his cock was too far into your mouth for you to be able to let out a coherent answer. Ao you chose to hum and unintentionally sent waves of pleasure all the way down to his balls. Well, all's well that ends well, right? You began to bob your head up and down with a newfound optimism, peeking up at his humongous form with pure adoration in your eyes.
August cursed under his breath at the sight of you so submissive and comfortable in your humility. The sheer love and devotion in your eyes as your warm cavity clung to his cock, the mass of your lashes fluttering each time your face slid all the way down his length and the way his tip brushed your gag reflex with each movement, the stubble on his crotch tickling your nose as you did, it was all too much for him to handle with civility.
"Use your hands" so he finally allowed you what you had been craving for. You felt your pussy throb when his thick veins twitched against your grainy tongue. "Go ahead, show me what you are good for" his voice was gravelly as the Sauer slipped into the neckline of your shirt and he let you feel the cold metal against your skin.
You gladly complied, moaning at the feeling of the weapon against you, hoisting yourself further upwards on your heels as you reached for his balls with one hand and palmed them generously. Your head rotated each time you moved in on his cock, other hand working fast to pump him each time you pulled back until you were only sucking on his tip.
"Look at you" August hooked one foot against your knee and pushed it apart to create more distance between your legs. "Maybe you should retire as solely my toy for the rest of your days, huh?" Leaving the weapon hanging from your shirt and tucked tightly in your bra, the older man clicked the safety on before clasping his fist around your throat. "You're much better at it than the job, anyway" the corners of your shoulders jutted upwards when his cock finally breached your swallow tract and tears fell from your eyes at last in thick drops at last.
Glancing up at August with your bloodshot eyes, you darted your tongue out to trace as much the circumference of his ballsack as you possibly could. He cursed heavily. "Just like that… good girl" the back of your throat was warm and even more inviting, enveloping him in such a way that an imprint of his cock appeared on your delicate skin, the ridges grazing against August's palm that pressed against it.
Your head was now dizzy due to the lack of air but you did not care as you unplugged your mouth just enough to wheeze in as much air as you possibly could, releasing a fat wad of hot spit down the intimidating length of his cock that you pumped messily with your hand. There was a dull ache in your scalp because of the taut grip that he had on your hair. Your lungs burned. Your ears were on the verge of melting along your brain. Your jaw ticked due to his size. Your throat stretched each time he violated its inner cavity. Your pussy throbbed for attention and your abdomen pulsated painfully.
But none of it mattered.
So long as you got to satisfy your Master, everything was bearable.
"Fucking hell" August groused as he stilled your head in one place to reach as low as he could possibly go down the back of your oral cavity, pistoning short-paced thrusts up and down the space to fuck his orgasm out. Your trembling hands gripped his knees as you felt a strain in your jaw due to how his sack was widening it, obediently licking and sucking at his balls to the best of your ability.
Somewhere amidst the thrusting and swallowing, your windpipe catched a drop and you coughed, further intensifying the man's pleasure as the turbulence caused a mix of your spit and his cum to spray out of your nose before it trailed down to your lips.
August fished his phone out of his jacket and quickly snapped a shot of your state.
Hair disheveled, mouth full of cock, red eyes full of tears that stained your flush cheeks, thick strings of drool and his seed dripping down your chin.
"Make yourself look pretty for me" he nodded at you with a brief glance to his cock and where it connected with you.
The camera was still trained at you when you obediently pulled him out with a gag and cough while pumping the rest of his cum out and onto your face. The flash of the lenses nearly blinded you as you looked up in the video that he was recording now, your tongue and swollen lips glistening as you painted yourself pearlescent.
"Now, what do we say?" August panted once you were done.
"Thank you so much f- for giving me a chance a- and fucking my face, Master" your voice was hoarse and a near whisper as you forced it out through your worked out mouth, licking your lips to collect as much of him as possible.
"That's fucking right" he ended the video by squeezing your cheeks in his grip until your cum covered features scrunched in the most humiliating way before he landed a last slap to your cheek.
August fixed himself up professionally like he didn't just fuck your throat into oblivion and you submissively waited on your knees, awaiting his next command. After he was satisfied with his appearance, the man wiped his hands on your jacket before he took his gun out from between your boobs and holstered it.
"Up" raising one of his hands above his head, he snapped his fingers and allowed you the privilege of leaning on one of his arms as you scrambled up to your feet.
A very stunned Shaw was by his side within the next second, his ears a deep, almost embarrassed red. "Retrieve the asset" the younger male awkwardly looked at your obscene state as you wordlessly nodded in the direction of the briefcase stash. "Now," August's fingers snaked around your hair again as he glanced down at you, "let's get my estranged Wraith home" your head lolled in his direction as he began to walk towards one of the many sleek black SUVs parked outside.
"You have been demoted" he informed you once you had both settled in the backseat of one of the vehicles. August thrusted his phone in your hand. It displayed the picture that he had taken just a few minutes ago. "We will begin right from the start; the basement" your heart dropped. Oh, fuck. You had only been down there once and it was not a place where August was pleasant in any sense. And your sadistic lover was never much agreeable in the affectionate sense anyways. You definitely still had a lot to atone for. "Keep looking at this picture. I don't want your eyes off it for a second" the menace in his tone made you gulp as the humiliating picture burnt its way into your eyesockets.
A few seconds passed before you felt August's hands slip around your ass but you dared not look up to express your wonder. "Now… about that weeping little pussy of yours…" Honestly, it was hard not to notice. The stain you had made for yourself was too dark and wide for anyone to miss.
