Frank Castle who asks ”wheres my cock?” as he’s fucking you cause he wants to hear you mewl out an embarrassed ‘my ass’….
stared at this for a solid five minutes in pure awe
"nah don't get shy on me now, sweetheart," murmured against your ear, he leans over you big strong body covering every inch of you and his cock warm and snug inside you. "seen every inch of you. tasted every inch." he chuckles so meanly when you whine and hide your face, "don't hide," he warns, smug n amused, "can't hide the way your little ass is squeezing' me, honey. you feel me in there?" and there's no way you wouldn't, not when he's so fuckin' big and you're still so new to it, to having him fill you up back there all the way to the brim. you nod, whimpering n biting at his forearm drooling all over him. his hips pull back then back in drawing a mewl out of you. "where, baby? tell me."
"i-inside me," you're so quiet and embarrassed it's fucking precious, but he did always love corrupting his sweet girl.
"you know that's not what i want."
you whimper again biting harder into his arm when he slides all the way in again. his balls tickle bump against your clit oh so sweetly and you feel the heat of embarrassment and desire burn all the way from your toes to the top of your head. "my ass," you cry, bucking up against him, "my ass, daddy. feel so good, so full."
just chewing on a rock thinking about simon, drunken and hiccuping, doing that thing where he caresses your cheeks with his knuckles, his touch so gentle and careful, and you thought that it’s just a mindless motion until you catch him whispering something under his breath.
you poke his arm. “si?”
he puffs, grumbling again, and pulls you to his lap. you let him manhandle you, not minding his insistent hands as they squeeze and tug at you, until you’re both finally comfortably tangled together.
he says it again, the whispered benevolence, and you blink, thinking you’ve heard him wrong, but simon repeats it with a breathless cadence—your name passes through the gaps of his teeth, rich like wine. then, he puffs out, “my life,” so reverent like he did not just lay waste to you.
oh.
.
(thinking about simon who’s never honest with himself until now; simon who told you that he’ll always choose the mission over you, but look at him now. look at how he folds himself before you. look at how he calls you his purpose. his life.)
sweet popey who can’t last no matter how hard he tries when you both start being intimate
a lil smutty blurb because I LOVE ME SOME POPEEEE, also premature ejac pope is so canon to me 😭
The first time he feasted on your cunt he creamed his pants well before you even reached your peak. So spurred on by the way you were fucking his face and pushing him harder into your cunt. Moaning and babbling away. His name falling from your mouth in a way he hadn’t heard before, so breathy and laced with want… genuine want “a-andyyy mmakin' me feel so good” him? making someone feel good?
It's the way he starts whimpering and breathing heavily between his laps through your folds that has you pushing your head up to check on him “a-andy what’s wrong honey? m-i hurting you?” you're panting out as you start to retract your claws from his scalp and he grabs your wrist, tight and pushes it back through his hair.
When you grip and pull his hair he looks up at you briefly, his eyes blown black “feel so good” he mumbles and you see the way he ruts his hips into the mattress. So hard that you see his ass clenching under his jeans. But you smile, your sweet baby, making himself feel good because he's making you feel good.
The closer he got to his own release the more frenzied his tongue got. You hadn’t even realised it the first time, so lost in your own euphoria when he literally came in his pants from eating you out. It was after he had sent you over the edge, you pulled him back up to you. Licking yourself off his lips as you tried to unbutton his jeans.
He pulled your hand away and couldn’t even look you in the eye, sweet sweet popey, so embarrassed. “andy? what happened are you okay?” You coo at him
"i-i couldn’t stop it m’sorry” he whines, his eyebrows knitting together as you stroke your thumb over his cheekbone and you look between you bodies and see the messy wet patch at his crotch and the puzzle starts to piece together.
“ohhhhhh andy, it’s okay honey” you kiss his little frown and then the crease between his brows “we can try again" your voice soft, warm and reassuring and he melts into it, into your touch, into you. He burrows his face into your neck and engulfs you in his arms "oh-ohk, i'll do better next time-promise"
After-hours inventory management takes an unexpected turn when you decide the boss has been working too hard. Diluc Ragnvindr is about to discover that some of his new hire's talents weren't exactly listed on their resume.
warnings : smut, blowjob, hints of dubcon, negligent display of power (employee-boss dynamic) he gets somewhat rough, deep throating, brat mention, kaeya mention, subtle slut shaming in the narrative, mean possessive luc :3
notes : luc might be ooc, this is my very first post (I’m open for constructive criticism). So sorry if my writing is cringe, thanks for reading 🥹
Two years.
Two years of you behind the bar. Two years of your mouth running at full speed. Two years of watching you charm his patrons and delight his brother and casually treat the Angel’s Share like it was your personal kingdom.
Two years of this.
Diluc leaned back in his office chair, one calloused hand tangled in your hair, the other resting loosely on the armchair. The door was locked. It was always locked now during the late hours after close.
The staff knew not to knock. The patrons knew not to linger. The whole city probably knew at this point because Mondstadt was a nest of vipers when it came to gossip, and you were not exactly subtle about the marks you occasionally forgot to cover.
Not that he cared. Let them talk.
His hips rolled up in a lazy rhythm, not quite thrusting, just... present. Letting you set the pace. For now.
You’re good at this. Of course you are. You are good at everything: inventory, customer service, defusing fights, making Kaeya actually shut up for once in his miserable life.
And this.
Especially this.
Your mouth was warm and wet and exactly where it belonged, and right now you were looking up at him with those dark eyes, that familiar glint of mischief swirling in them even with your lips stretched taut around him.
Fucking brat.
"You're being quiet," he observed, his voice rough. "That's new."
You pulled back just enough to speak, your breath hot against him. "Maybe I'm finally learning when to shut up."
He laughed. Actually laughed, a low sound that rumbled through his chest. "No, you're not."
"No," you agreed, and your smile was pure poison. "I'm really not. You know what Kaeya said? He said-"
Diluc's hips snapped up.
Hard.
You choked, a wet, surprised sound, your eyes widening as he hit the back of your throat without warning. Your fingers dug into his thighs, not pushing away, just holding on.
He kept you there. Counted three heartbeats.
Four.
Then he relaxed, letting you breathe, letting you gasp and swallow and glare up at him with tears pricking the corners of your eyes.
"You were saying?" he asked mildly.
You coughed, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and grinned. It was a wrecked expression, half defiance and half want, and it made something dark curl in his stomach.
"I was saying," you continued with your hoarse voice, “that Kaeya thinks you've gone soft.
That l've domesticated you. Tamed the infamous Darknight Hero."
Diluc's grip tightened in your hair.
"Domesticated."
"That's what he said." You licked your lips, slow and deliberate. "I told him he was wrong. That you're just as much of a bastard as you've always been. You just have better outlets now."
Another thrust. Harder. You gagged again, and this time he held you there longer, watching the way your throat worked around him, the way your eyes fluttered half-closed. When he finally let up, you were breathing hard, your composure cracking just slightly.
"Better outlets," he repeated. "Is that what you are?"
"Mmhmm." You nuzzled against him, cheek rubbing against his thigh like a satisfied cat. “Your favourite outlet. Your stress relief. Your-“
He didn't let you finish.
This time he set a rhythm, rough and relentless, not giving you room to talk, not giving you room to breathe. Each thrust pushed you closer to the edge of what you could take, and each time you gagged, each time you choked, that dark satisfaction spread through his chest like warm wine.
You loved this. He knew you loved this. The brattiness, the mouthing off: it was all leading here, to this moment, to him reminding you exactly who was in charge.
Your hands had stopped gripping his thighs.
They were just... there. Resting.
He watched himself disappear into your mouth, watched the tears streak down your cheeks, watched the way your body trembled with the effort of taking him. Beautiful. Ruined. His.
"Look at me," he commanded.
Those dark eyes, glassy and desperate, fixed on his face as he fucked your throat with single-minded focus.
"You want to talk about Kaeya?" He hissed, his voice was ragged, barely controlled. "You want to talk about being domesticated?"
You couldn't answer. Could only make sounds: wet, broken sounds that sent heat racing down his spine.
He slowed. Just enough. Let you breathe, let you recover, let you think you had a moment to collect yourself.
"I'll tell you what domesticated looks like," he said, thumb tracing your plump cheekbone. "It looks like you on your knees. Every time you run that mouth. Every time you push too far. This is what you get. This is what you wanted."
You nodded. Or tried to. It was hard to nod with his hand fisted in your hair.
"Then take it."
He snapped his hips forward again, harder than before, and held. Held you there, pressed against him, feeling your throat contract around him in desperate, reflexive swallows. The sounds you made -gagging, choking, whimpering—were the most beautiful sounds he'd heard all day.
When he finally let you up, you collapsed against his thigh: gasping, drooling, completely wrecked.
And smiling.
"Fuck," you whispered hoarsely. "Okay. Okay.
Maybe you're not domesticated."
Diluc stroked your hair, gentle now, the contrast almost obscene. "Maybe not."
You turned your head, pressed a kiss to his knee.
"I love you," you mumbled against his skin.
"You're such a bastard. I love you."
Something in his chest shifted. Softened. He ignored it.
"On the desk," he said. "Now."
You laughed, that same bark of laughter from two years ago, and let him pull you to your feet.
The office door stayed locked. The tavern stayed empty. And Diluc Ragnvindr, the terrifying Darknight Hero, the brooding master of the Dawn Winery, spent the next hour doing things that would have made Kaeya choke on his wine.
A/N: This took me two days to write🥹*sigh*. IDK I GOT CARRIED AWAY AND THEN GOT LAZY AT THE END😭😭
Warning: violence and (sort of)out of character? idk, I can't tell. NOT proofread :((
WC: 1.2k words
____
Imagine being part of a cult as kid. Every five years, a child is offered as a sacrifice and of course, you're the sacrifice(typical plot, but whatever).
That was until a bunch of armed hooded men breached the ritual chamber and began ransacking the ceremonial items.
Scaramouche stood just behind them, his ichimegasa covering his eyes, yet you could see the smirk on his face as his men caused chaos among the people, brutally cutting down anyone who tried to leave while dragging others to the ground, binding their wrists in heavy cords.
Then, his eyes landed on little ol' you, sitting on the table surrounded by lit candles with foreign texts decorating your skin.
And yet, despite the horror surrounding you, you still marveled up at him with shining eyes.
All you could see was your savior, your God.
He scoffed and slowly walked closer to you, ignoring the havoc around him. The silk clothe on his ichimegasa moved gracefully behind him like serpents.
He stopped right in front of you, leaning down slightly till his hat covered what was happening behind him. You peered into his electric gaze, your eyes trailing the eyeliner framing his features.
"Well, aren't you just a pity." His voice was filled with disdain and mockery. But it was the only voice that you'd be willing to hear on your last days.
He reached down to smudge the ink from your cheek, clicking his tongue.
Tunnel vision began to set in the longer you stared up at him.
Eventually, he turned around to address his men, and only then did you finally notice the scene in front of you. There was not a single soul in the room, other than them and you. Everyone else was reduced to mere corpses, lying in a crimson pool.
And it filled you with so much joy.
Before you could look around, he began to walk away from you. Your breath hitched and you hastily tried to grab onto the silk of his round hat,
"K-Kami--" A gasp left your lips as you suddenly fell off the table and face planted onto the ground before you could grab onto him.
He turned back at you with an almost apathetic expression, raising an eyebrow. "Kami?" He hummed, looking down at you as you picked yourself up, wiping your face before you gazed back at him.
"I-I want to come with you!" You proposed, your hands clutching onto your dress as you waited for his judgement, pleading with your eyes.
The puppet only snickered, scoffing at the sheer absurdity of a fragile mortal calling him a god. And then, without a word, he signaled his men to bring you along.
---
He didn't raise you, per se. He offered you over to The Knave the moment you arrived at Snezhnaya.
Occassionaly though, The Knave would bring you over at meetings after you'd cry for hours about seeing Kami again. You'd either sit on her lap while you stared intently at The Balladeer, or trail after him whilst your small hands hold onto his silk drapery.
He'd goff as he watches the 3rd Harbinger dote on you, feeding you sweets while humming an eerie melody.
As you grew up, you eventually became a fatui agent under his organization. And so far, you were the most worshipful human he's ever seen. Maybe obsessed is the right word for it.
Everyone seemed to fear mentioning his name around you. The moment they do, you'd appear right behind them with a smile on your face.
You killed for him so easily too. It didn't matter what was standing before you, whether it'd be a man or a woman, a child or an elder. You'd gladly get your hands dirty if it means pleasing your Kami.
You'd perk up and squeal like a fangirl whenever he's around, screaming 'Kami, Kami!' like it's a concert.
He's just standing there with his cloak, staring down at the traitors that you caught.
It was pretty rare to finally meet a traitor that's alive for Scara nowadays. Most—if not all—of the time, they'd drop dead with your dagger buried in their chest.
Every Harbinger was familiar with you, and so, they'd trust you enough to do some important work for them. With your skills and experience, they once offered you to be the 11th harbinger.
You only refused because it would take you away from him.
How amusing. To watch you grow into this lovesick psycho for him. You're such an interesting mortal.
It felt like days ago when you'd given him little hand-made trinkets you made as an 'offering' to your God. Now you offer him decapitated heads.
Scaramouche would be lying if he said he didn't relish in your attention. After all, to be a god, you had to have someone worshipping you.
However, when the newly promoted 11th harbinger, Childe, came into the picture, he'd find the younger one requesting you more and more to his missions. When you come back, of course, you'd go back to worshipping him and him only.
Even so, Scaramouche was growing agitated by each request.
When you received the 4th request from the 11th harbinger this month, Scaramouche had permanently banned the other harbingers from requesting you.
And you were absolutely over the moon to see him so possessive over you. Ever since then, you never took orders from anyone but him. And he made sure you only worshipped him.
Once, he had tasked you to escort some recruits for him from the harbor back to the camp. Little did he know, you'd come back with none.
"Alright, everyone! Let's start our journey to the top!" You beamed so brightly, it could melt the snow in Snezhnaya. You ran up at the top of the hill and turned back to encourage them.
"Come on, go go! We can do this, comrades!"
You watched as some groaned while others pushed forward, taking note on who's going to have to be left behind to freeze to their death.
Two boys in particular caught your attention, left behind at the very back. They leaned against each other, speaking in a low whisper as they dragged the sled carrying their bags. Your smile widened just a fraction before you turned and began to walk onward.
"You better catch up before the cold gets you." You grinned and ran off while the recruits called desperately for you.
Climbing up a tree, you waited and watched silently as they plodded along, dragging the heavy sled carrying their bags through the deep snow, completely oblivious as they muttered complaints and curses to each other.
What a liability. They're not close to being good enough for your Lord's presence. They'll only throw dirt at his name. And you can't allow that. You won't.
Your fingers itched as they held the red dagger.
Just then, the two men walked past, still whispering secrets to each other. Thank Dottore for lending you the hearing aid that could amplify even the quietest murmurs.
"Boss told us to be wary of his assistant. We'll have to keep an eye for her once we get there."
"Are we even sure we'll meet either of them? We don't even know if they keep some resources at the camp we're heading to..." the smaller guy breathed out, tightening his grip on the sled's frozen towline. He looked up, watching the others ahead of them with furrowed brows.
"Who knows. Maybe we'll be lucky to meet one of them today. Lest we just burn the whole camp and force them out of their hiding spot." The other smirked, pushing further ahead to leave the smaller one behind, to which he protested and tried to catch up.
Before another word could be spoken, the male heard the soft crunch of the snow behind him. He halted and quickly spun around.
Weird. They had made sure they're the last one behind.
Shrugging it off as an animal, he turned back around to catch up with his partner. His eyes widened as he saw his partner crouched on the ground, clutching his neck as he slowly choked on his own blood.
"Kaelen!" He shouted as he rushed over and held his body, slowly succumbing to a painful death. He took out a small knife, twisting his head frantically in every direction. The blade trembled in his grip.
"W-Who's there?! Show yourself!" His voice cracked with fear, adrenaline, and rage. Delicious. A dash in between the trees made him turn sharply, almost dropping his knife.
He kept one arm wrapped around his partner's now limp body, blood soaking the snow under his feet.
"Whatcha looking at, comrade?" A sweet, honey-coated voice spoke behind him. The same voice that was cheering them on just moments ago.
The man whipped his head around, terror coloring his face as he looked up at your crimson tainted smiling face.
"Y...You...how did you g-get here?..Y-Y-You were supposed to be--"
"Ahead of you? I am."
You began to circle around him, hands folded behind your back. The man kept his gaze and knife pointed at you, his fear getting the best of him.
"I was only getting worried, after all, I have to make sure my new comrades get in the camp safely." Your smile reached your eyes in an almost eerie way. "It would be quite inconvenient to have you dying on your first day, right?"
You watched as his breathing grew heavier and his grip tightened before he let out a cry and lunged at you.
---
Scaramouche sat in his study, signing some papers. The soft crackle of the fire filled the silence as he read through some documents from Dottore.
An offer for collaboration. With that psycho?
A sigh left his lips as he placed down the documents, pinching the bridge of his nose. It's been a week since he left you to take care of the new recruits. Which was weird. The trip from the harbor to the camp would only take a day and a half.
Perhaps you'd run into some sort of trouble.
Just then, a soft knock echoed from his door. He grunted out a low "come in" before the door opened, revealing you carrying a cup of tea in your hands.
He raised an eyebrow as he watched you place the cup on his table.
"I'm guessing the...trip didn't go well." He muttered.
You hummed and looked at him, tilting your head as a soft giggle left your lips. "Really? What gave that away?"
Scaramouche leaned his head against his hand as he rested his elbow against the table, eyeing the dried bloodstains on your clothes.
"Just a hunch."
---
There were no new recruits delivered that day. Only a trail of blood in the snow.
