la luna del cacciatore

“Oh my,” You gasp “-look at all this treasure! I guess I chose the right cave to explore. Just me, an adventurer all by myself.”

You cringe at your voice, hearing yourself repeated in the echoes across the cave walls. You were never the best actor, delivery a little too stiff and predictable. It doesn’t help that your improv is schlock, reciting the cheesiest lines from dirty books you’ve read in the past.

But the churring sounds around the corner suggest your lines, corny as they may be, are effective.

“I sure hope there's no big, strong monster protecting this treasure.” You call out, eyeing the nearby hiding hole. “It’d be such a shame, considering I’m all by myself,” You languidly bend over, pretending to look at the “treasure chest” in front of you, “-so defenseless.” Wiggling your hips, you turn toward the ‘chest’, popping open the top and pretending to coo at the fake bounty inside.

A satisfied smirk curls the sides of your lips when a familiar tentacle wraps around your ankle. Still playing as the oblivious adventurer, you ignore the creeping sensation that crawls up your pant leg, massaging your calf. You just wiggle your hips some more, pride and something else stirring in your gut when your partner churrs.

“Hmm, what's this?” You whine as another tentacle wraps around the opposite ankle, both quickly pushing up the bottom of your pants. “Oh no! A monster!” Your gasp is breathy and dramatic, paired with you throwing your hand to your forehead in woe. A thicker tentacle wraps around your waist, thoroughly ‘trapping’ you. “Let me go, foul beast!”

You fake slap the tentacle now pulling you towards your partner. Their chuckle reverberates against your skin.

Soon you're pulled into a rolling mass of tentacles, who don’t hesitate to fondle your body. Several crawl up your shirt, petting the skin and even flicking your nipples. Others easily undo the buttons of your trousers, quickly sneaking under the hem once your fly is down. You let out another breathy gasp, half real and half dramatic.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing?” With all the indignation of a primadonna, you wiggle and thrash in your partner's hold. In reality the act only stimulates you more, lets the tentacles wrap around your limbs and hold them in place. You lick your lips, watching several tentacles pull down your pants and underwear, releasing your cock.

“I’m gonna have fun with you, traveler.”

A shiver rolls down your spine, the normally stuttered and shy voice of your partner especially deep and lusty.

Damn, they are a good actor.

“Ah!” You gasp, really gasp, as a tentacle wraps around your shaft. It squeezes tight as it slowly moves up the head, the tip playing with your slit. Already hard in their grasp, your head begins weeping precum, which the tentacle gleefully smears all over it.

You almost break character when the tentacle slithers off your cock, a whiny “Why?” on your lips. But then the tentacle slides up to your partner's mouth. They lean their faux, shining purple face down and suck on their own appendage, eyes rolling back. After letting go with a ‘pop’, they lean down next to your ear.

“Delicious.” They purr, their entire form rumbling against you.

It takes all you can not to melt in their tentacles right then and there, still trying to put up a ‘fight’.

But your partner doesn’t give you the chance to break, a quick tentacle wrapping around your cock once more as another begins circling your hole. You gasp again, this time quickly silenced by another wayward tentacle, shoved down your throat.

“Your noises are so pretty.” Your partner chuffs. “But I want to explore all of these holes.”

Tears bubble at the corner of your eyes, feeling your throat gag from the new intrusion. But you tap three times on the tentacle, the signal you are good to go forward. It may have been sudden, but the penetration is far from unwelcome.

You can see your partner smirk from the corner of your eye. The tip circling your asshole oozes lube, leaving faintly buzzing trails in its wake. The tentacle around your cock begins oozing as well, some dripping down to your balls as it jerks at a steady pace. That familiar grape flavor touches your tongue, helping suppress the gag reflex and ease your mind a bit.

Your hole stretches slowly open, the lubed tentacle so gentle despite your partner’s dirty talk.

“I can’t wait to see you, all fucked open on me. Dripping with me.” A tentacle lovingly strokes your cheek. “Wait a treat you’ve given me, adventurer.” The easing tentacle hits your prostate, your lower half overwhelmed with sensations from both sides. “A brand new toy to play with.”

Your cock twitches in their grip as they begin to jerk you off faster, another tentacle from underneath coming to fondle your balls. You’re slowly emptied out as they withdraw the tentacle in your ass, before shoving it inside with an emphasized “Hmmp!” Your moans are muffled, stuffed from the appendage still in your mouth, which stays still. Something you’re thankful for, as you’re not sure you have the brain power to fellate them properly.

Your legs spasm and shake, held up in mid air by two tentacles. You can see your toes curling, feel the electric shocks as they fuck you open. The tentacle stroking you keeps you on edge, going fast for some seconds and lingering on your head for others, playing with your sensitive spot underneath. Your balls tighten in their grasp, eyes rolling back into your head as your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

“Are you gonna cum?” Your partner pants, that more familiar desperation coming back to their voice. “Cum from my tentacles? All strung up, like a proper cum-slut?” They lick theit faux-tongue up the side of your face, tasting salty tears. “You came here for treasure, yet here you are— Some monster’s bitch.”

The snarl in their voice is enough to send you over the edge. Nearly numb from overstimulation, your cock jerks and semen shoots into ready tentacles. They lap at it like thirsty tongues, letting the cum drizzle over several as they fondle your cock.

The cavern floor is cool on your face, slowly lowering onto your stomach as tentacles leave your more sensitive parts. The ooze on your skin sinks in like a relaxant, your partner making sure to keep you comfortable.

“D-did you like that?” They pant in your ear.

You give them a lazy thumbs up.

His only saving grace is you, another agent who he works with on his rare duo missions. You’re just about the only other single person in the entirety of the DSO—that’s what it feels like. Sometimes, you two will sit at events and roll your eyes at people showing off their partners. Then an awkward silence after of a silent agreement ‘cause you both know you’re just envious.

“Do you think we can call in sick?” Leon sighs as you both sit in your hotel room before you have to leave for an event. This ceremony thingy-bullshit is a bigger, more nationwide one that your boss sent you both to. One room, but two beds, at least. Cheapskates knew you didn’t have significant others and didn’t bother with privacy.

“I mean, prolly… but we lowkey might get flamed,” you reply. He leans against the doorway of the bathroom as he watches you do your makeup. The pretty, long dress you have on is a far cry from the tactical gear he usually pairs you with. Both looks are hot as hell, he definitely can’t deny that. He’ll just tuck that secret in his pocket for now.

“Well, hurry up. Maybe we can show up and leave as quick as possible,” he says as he checks his watch and pretends as if he didn’t just try to check you out. Not that it would be the first time.

Extremely unfortunately, you make it to the event, dreading every click of your heels against the marbled floors as you step inside. This one’s clearly expensive and fancy—that’s worse. The bar quickly becomes Leon’s victim. He lets you know he’ll get you a drink while you find them a spot at a table with an easy escape.

Well, he didn’t really expect to come back and find some guy hitting on you. He’s more curious than annoyed, but it’s there. This guy has the audacity to hit on a girl like you?

“Really? They flew you all the way out here, huh? So you’re pretty special,” this idiot smirks, thinking his blinding white teeth are gonna win you over. Leon can tell you’re irritated.

“Sure, you could say that,” you reply with pursed lips and your best disinterested voice. Your gaze shifts briefly to Leon standing behind him who looks amused. You’re only taking note of your drink that he’s holding.

“Well, special lady, would you maybe like to go to dinner with me somewhere more… private?” He lowers his tone leaning in a little, thinking he’s smooth as hell.

“Uh… no, y’know my schedule’s kinda full…” you shake your head, using that very obvious rejection tone. If he hasn’t taken the hint already, he has to take it now, right?

“Okay, no date. Maybe just uh… a night together?”

Nope. You were stupid to think a man would ever take a hint.

His tone makes it obvious what he’s asking, he wants his head under your dress. He says it like he knows you’ll say yes.

“Oh, I’m celibate, actually,” you smile tersely. He gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you.

“Really? A pretty girl like you isn’t interested in sex?” He raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer as if that’s gonna fix your supposed virginity. “I find that hard to believe, sweetheart.”

“Ah, too bad. Really sucks when not every living female wants to fuck you, huh?” You can’t help but mock, returning the raised brow. “Afraid it’s just gonna be you and your fist tonight.”

He scoffs, trying not to look as offended as he clearly feels. He finally seems to take the hint. “God, some special lady you are,” he grumbles, pushing off the chair he was leaning on and giving you a look before disappearing.

“Celibate? Really?” Leon chuckles when he finally gets to talk to you again, holding out a glass of wine for you. He knows first hand that you're just about the opposite of celibate. You’ve been out drinking together multiple times… one thing leads to another.

“Just a white lie, cant hurt,” you shrug with equal amusement. You finally sit down at your carefully scouted table right next to the exit for a quick, uninterrupted escape.

The rest of the night is as boring as you expected, but a couple more glasses of wine gets you through it. The millisecond you receive your awards—some bullshit that you don’t even think needs to be awarded—you and Leon are out of there. You’ve never been more happy to see your hotel room.

Taking your time undressing and relaxing for a while, eventually you turn in for sleep. You’re even wearing your cute silky set, all curled up under the sheets. And clutching them tightly. It’s literally freezing.

“Mmh, Leon…” you mumble, trying desperately to warm yourself up. You look over your shoulder at his bare back turned to you on the other side of the room. When did he take his shirt off? “Are you awake?”

After hearing a quiet grunt, you continue. “Are you cold? I’m freezing.”

“No. ‘S hot as hell,” he grumbles. He waits for you to say something else, and just as he’s about to offer you all his sheets, he hears shuffling from your bed. A moment later, he feels the mattress dip behind him and turns over to see you kneeling on the bed and inviting yourself in.

“Y’don’t mind if we cuddle?” You murmur, slipping under the covers. He swallows as he sees your cute pajamas with the lace and he can already tell this isn’t gonna end with just cuddling. He wordlessly opens his arms up for you, wrapping them around you when you make yourself the little spoon.

He makes sure the sheets are pulled up over your shoulders, rubbing your arms and thighs underneath to try to warm you up. “Still cold?”

Well, not really. You're very hot now, actually, but you nod your head, mumbling yes.

“Want me to warm you up another way?” Leon offers, his voice quiet and rough in that way that sends a shiver down your spine. He rubs his nose against your neck, fingers brushing up under your shirt. How are you supposed to resist?

“Yeah,” you nod against the pillow, squirming slightly as he rubs your side—ticklish little thing. You help shift your legs as he pushes your shorts and panties down.

“There you go. I got you,” he murmurs, sliding his hand back up the inside of your thigh. He kisses the side of your neck as his fingers part your soft curls to get to your pussy. You can feel him smirk against your skin when he feels how wet you are.

“Doesn’t feel very cold to me,” his warm digits spread your slick around, finding your clit with ease and gently circling it with his middle finger. You whine quietly, hands grabbing his forearm that’s around your waist.

You’re snug but not tight around his fingers, easily dipping them in your wet cunt and spreading you open. He shifts, almost draping himself over you to “keep you warm” as he fingers your needy little pussy and gets you nice and ready for him.

“Oh, Leon, right there,” you whisper into the pillow as he makes sure the heel of his hand is rubbing against your clit as he adds a third finger. Your hips lightly rock against his palm, your brows pulled into that soft crease that makes you look fucking adorable.

“Look at you, going around telling people you’re abstinent and yet you’re crawling into my arms,” Leon teases gently, curling his fingers in a slow, languid way that makes your spine straighten and your breath catch.

Just as you’re mumbling about getting close and about to cum, he takes his hand away with a kiss to your shoulder beside the strap of your top. You whine, but he turns you around in his arms with one of those dumb smirks.

“C’mon, girly, you’re on top tonight. Show me how celibate you claim you are, hm?” He taunts, bringing you with him as he rolls into his back, big hands on your soft hips.

“Ugh, how did I let you talk me into this? Didn’t we say we’d stop after last time?” You complain as you settle your hands on his bare chest, your naked hips lazily grinding against the tent in his pajama pants.

“We both know we can’t stop. ‘Sides, I barely talked to you, just tried to warm you up,” he grunts as you start dry humping him, rough hands sliding down your scarred thighs. Rubs his thumbs over the small, raised lines before giving you a light slap on the ass.

“Get going, princess. You’re slow,” he says with fake impatience, staring up at you with that cheesy smirk. You roll your eyes but start to pull down his sweats and boxers anyway.

Your hips shift restlessly with need as you grip his hard cock, giving it a couple light strokes before positioning yourself above him. With your eyes on your movements, you hold him still as you slowly sink down on him with a low, gravelly moan.

“Mmh—fuck, there you go. Hug me so nice,” he sighs with a grunt of your name as he watches you. You sit there on his cock, looking up at him expectantly. This is usually the part where he takes over again and holds you hips while he thrusts up into you.

He simply returns the look. Asshole. What happened to chivalry?

You sigh dramatically, your knees on either side of his waist as you find leverage with your hands behind you on his hard, strong thighs. You don’t usually do this part.

You suck in a breath, lifting yourself up a bit, and then back down with a soft moan. Up and down, up and down, grinding softly against him and keeping eye contact.

But it’s just not the same! Even as you keep up a nice rhythm, your soft moans getting louder and your grip getting tighter, he’s not deep enough. Not hitting the spots he usually gets.

“Leon, c’mon… it’s better when you do it,” you sigh as your hands come back to the front, tracing his abs as you do your damn best riding his cock. He simply stares, amused as his hands rub up and down your thighs.

“…Leon,” you say more firmly this time, hoping you can chastise him into fucking you. It doesn’t work, and you’re getting impatient. You groan dramatically, circling your hips as you lock your eyes on his. “Leon, just fuck me already! Fuck me hard!”

He can’t help but laugh. It gets him going to see you all frustrated, as much as he hates it when you’re anything but happy. Anyway, who’s he to deny you? His hands slides up to your hips, pausing to grope your ass before firmly planting themselves above your thighs.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before lifting you up and then pulling you back down to meet his thrust. A moan slips from both of you this time as your fingers dig into his bare chest.

“Mmh, fuck yeah Leon,” you groan, leaning back so you can see his face a bit better. Not for long, ‘cause then he pounds into you hard enough to pull out a high-pitched whine and make you throw your head back with pleasure,

“God, fuckin’ love that, don’t you? You can’t even ride me properly. Always need my help,” he grunts as his hips jump to meet yours every single time. He always scolds you in that sickly sweet voice that has your pussy dripping.

“Oh—mph! Right there—yeah, nail my shit, just like that,” you say breathlessly, your head dropping to his chest as one of your hands snakes beneath you to find your clit. A half moan-half growl slips from your lips as your back arches deliciously, teetering right on the edge.

“Jesus, cumming already? Needed it bad, did you?” He murmurs as he trails gentle, contradicting kisses compared to his rough thrusts against your shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. Cum on my cock.”

It’s hard to hear his words over the squeaking of the bed and your own moans. Almost forgot you were in a hotel—no, you definitely did forget. That’s not what’s crossing your mind right now, though. You’re too busy crossing the finish line. Moaning his name, your fingers still on your clit as i grinds up into you to help you ride it out.

“That’s it, girly. Good girl,” Leon mumbles in your ears, rolling your hips against his pelvis. Once he’s decided you've had enough rest, he gently manhandles you onto your back, quickly pushing your legs up and squishing your knees against your tits as he gets right back to work.

His hands grip the backs of your thighs, his fingertips denting into the plush skin as he pounds into your pussy. His voice leaves him in harsh grunts and satisfied groans, his gaze fixed on his cock coming in and out of your soft cunt.

“Y-Y’know… how much it pissed me off… when that guy was flirting with you?” Leon grunts through gritted teeth, almost like he was trying to keep it back.

“Fuck… yeah?” You question through your sex haze. You guys don’t really talk about other people, or your feelings. Especially not towards each other. So to have him essentially admit that he’s jealous.

“Yeah, princess. Couldn’t believe he thought he had a chance with… you,” his words come out a little slurred—he always talks too much when he gets close. You whine softly, the jealousy woven in his voice making your insides quiver.

His hands grip tighter on your thighs, not enough to bruise but definitely no less than firm. He leans over you a bit, putting a little more of his weight on top of you as he fucks you harder. He barely manages to remember he didn’t use a condom, whining pathetically as he uses all the forces of his self restraint to pull out.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” he whispers under his breath, one big hand pushing your thighs together as he strokes himself with the other. You make sure you’ve got a front row seat to see his brows furrowed and your name falling helplessly from his lips.

Leon moans your name, his head falling back as he finally pours his hot, sticky cum all over the backs of your thighs. Rope after rope lands on the soft flesh, making him moan a little more as he squeezes as much as he can out of the tip. You look so pretty like that, he’d take a picture if he knew you wouldn’t kill him.

“Oh god… so perfect, sweetie. Did so well,” he mumbles lazily stroking himself a little longer before letting go. He smears a bit of jizz across your skin before bringing his thumb up to your mouth, letting you lick it off.

It takes a moment to recover with his thighs feeling like they’re on fire, but eventually he pats your hip and gets up. He finds a small towel in the bathroom and runs it under warm water to come clean you up. Once you have everything you need, he puts your panties back on and double checks that you're nice and cozy as his little spoon after a very abstinent night.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The light wakes you up in the morning, streaming in through the thin curtains. You grumble, waking up and shaking Leon’s shoulder awake soon after. He kisses you and says thanks for last night, before the two of you return to your “normal friendly mission partners” routine.

Just as Leon closes the door behind you, about to head out to go home, you glance over at the sound of the persom in the next room over leaving as well.

The last thing you expected was to lock eyes with the man who tried to hit on you at the event, looking tired as hell, as if he didn’t get any sleep.

“…you didn’t sound very celibate to me.”

a/n: hi hope u enjoyed!! any notes always super duper appreciated 🙌

His thrusts were methodical and slow, and they drew heavy pants from you each time he pulled out and entered you again. His rhythm did not falter, even as he spoke to you.

"Do you think I would have you here if I did not care for you?"

He gave a harder thrust at the end of his sentence, resulting in a gasp from you.

"Answer me." He pulled out and gave another quick, hard push back in.

"N-no!" Your face flushed with red, already much more heated than he was, his fans not quite at capacity.

Ramattra removed his hand from your face and pulled your legs up to wrap around his waist. He began a more rapid and rough pace, and gave a slight growl at the sound of your pleasured cries.

"Do you think I would have a human in my bed, if I did not find them worthy of my attention?"

You shook your head this time, hardly able to conjure words between your gasps. A tear rolled down your cheek and your next breath was shaky.

Ramattra slowed but didn't stop. His head tilted above you, he gently wiped the tear from your face before pulling it up to touch his forehead to yours.

"Do you think I would have you by my side, day in and day out, if I did not love you?"

Your hands came up to grab the sides of his faceplate, and more tears fell as you began to truly cry. One of his hands went behind your head and wrapped itself in your hair before pulling your head back to reveal your neck. He dipped his faceplate there, giving you the vibrations of an omnic kiss - meanwhile his thrusts again increased in speed and intention.

Lifeweaver:

Oh this is a certified lover boy right here. Best believe he wants a position where he can see your face, where most of your body is exposed to his gaze.

That’s why missionary is always his go to, he’s able to thrust into you while keeping a hand on your cheek to ensure your pretty eyes are on him. So he can gaze down at you lovingly and watch your facial expression as you react to every movement.

It also gives him the ability to pinch and play with your nipples, smiling at the sounds that escape your throat as he lavishes you in praise.

But his absolute favourite thing to do in this position is fold you over yourself, knees pressed to your chin so he can slam into you in a mating press, letting you feel him all the way in your guts.

Because he’s so big, he dwarfs you and ensures all you can think about is him, all you can focus on is his cock thrusting in and out of you rapidly. Loves to kiss you in that position, mumbling against your hips how good you take him, how much he wants to fill you up with his cum for being so so good for him. But before he does that you’ll have to cum first.

Apart from that, any position where he has you in front of a mirror is perfect for him. He’ll set you on his lap so he can play and toy with your body, telling you intricate praises and compliments. If you’re a self conscious person, he’ll make you repeat them back to him while keeping your eyes on the mirror as he brings you over the edge again and again.

Alternatively, he might not even fuck you at all, perfectly content with you sitting on his face as he gives you the pleasure he knows you deserve.

Cole Cassidy:

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

He loves it if you ride him, the sight of you moving up and down on his lap. The sight of every angle of your body being on show for him to watch. The sight of his cock disappearing into your hole with every bounce.

Doesn’t care if it makes him look lazy, he’ll just lay back into the pillows, one hand stroking your hip while the other puffs the cigar in his mouth, occasionally offering it to you.

Now if you really want him to go feral, take his cowboy hat off and put it on yourself. You’ll feel him throb inside you as she growls, teasing you about it as he starts to thrust up inside you.

Now he’s an ass man, so when he isn’t gripping your ass while you ride him, he’s gripping and slapping your ass while he takes you from behind, another favourite of his.

Just loves to see it ripple with every thrust, and how you squeak or moan when he spanks you. Depending on the day he’s had, he’ll pump into you in methodical strokes while teasing you, or he’ll fuck into you hard and fast, chasing his pleasure.

Don’t be surprised if he’s puffing his cigar in that position too, the scent filling your nostrils before you even realised he’d lit it, too preoccupied by how deep he reaches as he forces your back to arch.

Ramattra:

Yeah he also likes doggy style, for more…dominating reasons.

Will love to push your head into the mattress, pounding into you while he mocks you for being so pathetic, so desperate to be filled that you’d let a dangerous omnic fuck you and toy with you just so you could find release.

He’d pull your hair, making your back arch for him as he railed you. Just loves to see how pliable your body is when he has you like this, and the noises that fall from your throat. Will also spank you to elicit similar noises, and best believe you’ll have a handprint on your ass to prove it.

And he could even pick you up in that position, moving you into a full nelson as your body jolts with each punishing thrust upwards.

Alternatively, he likes fucking you against the wall. Displays his sheer strength as he can just manhandle you to a position of his liking, you legs dangling pathetically as he has his way with you.

Although he loves fucking you while you’re facing him in that position, your legs wrapped around his waist as he holds you steady against the wall with his hands on your hips and ass. He won’t want to admit it, but it makes his internal fans whirl louder when he sees you face in ecstasy as you gaze up at him longingly.

However if you’ve been a brat, then you clearly don’t deserve the cock he graciously had fitted just to please you, so he’ll love to watch you hump his leg instead as he sits proud in his chair, legs spread. If you please him enough he might let you sit on his lap and hump his thigh instead. And if you please him just right, if your begs and grovelling are to his satisfaction, he may even let you sink down on him and ride him till he short circuits.

Lucio:

My sweet baby, he’s such a romantic!!! His favourite would definitely be missionary, you guys are just so close like that.

He’ll be holding your hand like a lifeline, gentle and measured strokes inside you as he rests his forehead against yours. Would love to feel all your little gasps against his lips, feeling your chests so close, his thumb soothingly running over the back of your hand. He’s always got you <3

However every man has needs, and Lucio is no different. So if you ask to ride him, he definitely isn’t gonna say no. It’ll be the positon he’s the most vocal in for sure, whines and grunts tumbling out his lips as you use his dick to get off.

He’ll be grabbing everywhere and anywhere, needing to feel useful as you make his eyes roll back with pleasure. Grabbing handfuls of your ass or hips or chest or thighs. Anywhere.

If you hold his hands in this position his hips will twitch, breath shaky as he pleads with you to let him fuck up into you. The whines will just tumble from his mouth, the grip on your hands tight, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Alternatively, if you’re wearing shorts…please let him hit it from the back. His favourite if you’re having a quickie before his show, pushing into you fast as you bend over his dressing table and present yourself for him. Or even against the door if you’re brave enough, both of you struggling to be quiet as his manager knocks on the wood and tells your boyfriend he’s due on stage in 5 minutes.

Genji:

Another man who loves you riding him. After becoming mostly cybernetic, he’s hyper aware of his own strength, as well as the way he looks now. You being on top allows him to peace of mind that he isn’t gonna accidentally hurt you, or crush you.

But also my god he loves watching the show. The way your hips move and circle to get the most pleasure, your hand gripping at his metal chest to steady yourself, the look on your face as the sensations build and build inside of you. He’ll instinctively go to hold your hips, perhaps accidentally holding that bit too tight so it leaves bruises.

But that position is perfect for praising him, telling him how good he feels, how beautiful you think he is. That’ll really make him whimper, audible over the soft plap of your thighs against him. Instinctively he’ll buck up at the praise, driving his cock deep inside you as he whines in embarrassment and pleasure at your complimentary words.

Hold his hands too, regardless of position he’d like for you to hold on to his hand or arms, makes him feel like you trust him, that you look to him for a source of comfort and security. He might even place something cozy and fuzzy on so you have a gentle fabric to hold.

Reinhardt:

Missionary, a classic position for a classic man. Loves how small you look under him, how his big arms practically dwarf your head as he braces himself above you. Sure he’s no spring chicken anymore, but he can still fuck you the way a pretty thing like you deserve.

And if you teasingly imply he can’t fuck you for too long, or suggest you can get on top instead? Well, that’s pretty much the only time his gentlemanly facade will crack, as he drives into you at a pace most young men wouldn’t dream of; his big cock filling you up so completely that your eyes will be rolling.

But most times he’s the epitome of a gentle giant, gently kissing you as he rocks slowly in and out of your smaller body, his beard gently tickling your neck and shoulder as he leaves small love bites on your skin.

But listen, if you’re with him you’re gonna most likely have a thing for his size and strength. So he will definitely pick you up while you guys are fucking if that’s what his sweetheart wants. With a firm grip on your hips he’ll encourage you to wrap your thighs around him so he can fuck you against the wall, your head against his scarred chest.

Chapter One, Underworld

How fitting was it that this was your end?

Years of successfully thwarting his plans, being one step ahead, all for what? The comfort of delay? It was all made worthless as of this moment. You laid defeated in front of your enemy—

Ramattra.

“I grow tired of your distractions.”

“Fuck you.”

“Kind as always.”

All you saw before everything went black was the butt of his void accelerator.

…

Dizziness, a painful headache, and an extreme thirst was what you woke to. A long night out? No… you distinctly remember being out on a mission. How much time has passed since you were knocked out?

“Good, you’re awake.”

Ah. You remember now.

You finally open your eyes to a quant chamber, a bed, table, and chair of nondescript nature. A place nearly lacking all color—

A prison cell.

You turn to your left to see the leader of Null Sector sitting on the floor in front of your cell, seemingly meditating awaiting your consciousness to return.

What an asshole.

“At least your methods haven’t changed much, have they Ramattra?”

“Be rude at your own volition, as I am not the one currently in a cage.”

He wasn’t wrong, which was what you hated about this situation.

You had gotten overly confident out on the battlefield, didn't properly coordinate with your team, and now where are you? Some random Null Sector ship who knows where. Antarctica? Over the Atlantic? An unknown omnium?

“Where are we?”

“You do not get to make demands, the utter gall of you…”

It was worth a shot, you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least fight for any information.

“Fine. What do you want then? Plans? Knowledge? To knock me down a peg?”

His posture changed, his head tilting downwards.

He was glaring at you.

“You have been a pain in my side for years and now finally…”

“Yeah. You’ve finally got a single victory under your belt.”

He laughed at you in your birdcage. It was deep, sarcastic, and utterly pathetic. Of course it takes your humiliation for you to finally see some semblance of joy out of him.

“Failure is only terrifying to those who don’t see multiple paths to victory.”

Isn’t that what a loser would say?

“I guess that explains how you continue with this mess.”

Now it was your turn to laugh at him.

“Once again, may I remind you that you’re at my mercy. Continuously insulting me will lead only to your ruin.”

You scoffed at him, only he could have the audacity to keep you alive and be pearl-clutching at your loathing.

“Fine. What do you want?”

He faced his body towards you before leaning closer to the barrier between the two, metaphorically dangling keys in your face.

“I want to know how you managed to get in my way so perfectly.”

His tone was pointed. It was hard getting that information, you had to pull all sorts of miscellaneous favors from many in Overwatch… you couldn’t just throw those informants away.

“Now you have the gall, Ramattra. You know I’d never tell you that, right?”

Displeased with your answer, he straightens his posture and looks away. Presumably towards the exit of this cell block.

“I will get it out of you one way or another, no matter what it takes. I will try to be diplomatic, but test me again—“

“I’m aware of my situation. Give me some time to think about your lovely offer.”

You spat back at him before he could finish his sentence. Whatever he’d say would just end up pissing you off even more anyways, you might as well save yourself the sanity.

He quietly left the cellblock without any further acknowledgment, seems like you successfully pissed him off.

Once he had left your sight, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. The facade of confidence leaving you immediately. You knew exactly what you were dealing with,

A wonderful tactician with world class technology right at his fingertips. A skilled engineer who has managed to create millions of units for his army using an omnium deep underground. A general with both cunning and charm. A man who can disappear without any trace.

Fear finally started to bear its ugly teeth.

You are so fucked.

Chapter Two, Corruption

It had been some nights since you last spoke to Ramattra, and you were more fired up than you had been since your original abduction. Your cell had become a reminder of your most egregious failure, an ego too big for you.

You started to loathe yourself more than him…

Your reasonable mind returned, but the pit in your stomach only grew the longer you waited in your cellblock. Your hatred fueled you to continue after him— it was the only thing keeping you sane, grounded in reality.

But no matter how hard you tried getting rid of your doubt, you just couldn’t seem to shake it. Every hour ticking by alone made your head spin with every possible situation you could find yourself in.

It was nauseating and equally exhausting. Yet within the hour, you had successfully fallen into a deep sleep.

Overwatch would look for you, right? Instead of just presuming you dead to not deal with the bureaucratic paperwork…

Only time would tell.

…

“You’re active.”

Your imaginations roar finally stilled against the articulated voice of your captor, Ramattra.

“Has anyone ever told you that your timing is horrendous?"

You had tried to sound dignified, but right as the words left your tongue you realized just how you sounded:

Weak, vulnerable, pliable.

“Greetings to you as well.”

“Fuck you.”

You finally faced the barrier, seeing Ramattra at the same spot he was two days before. He seemed more determined already, his stance was confident and his voice was firm.

“Overwatch has abandoned you, and you’re aware of this; aren’t you?”

Yes, the reason that you started to spiral in the first place. Now your captor is belittling you using the most insulting piece of information you beg to not be true.

“Of course I am, how couldn’t I be? What do you think I’ve been constantly thinking about for the last couple of days?”

Desperation, a silent plea for him to stop. Your voice cracked lightly as your facade crumbled around you,

“Knowing you, I know how much you wish for revenge."

He’s just trying to get under your skin.

“Don’t start acting like you know anything about me.”

“But I do, you’re the only one to have any successes against me. I have to know my greatest threat.”

Fuck him for acting like he respects anything whatsoever.

“Stop stroking my ego like you care. I know I’m just a means to an end to you and Overwatch.”

“Unlike Overwatch I’m giving you options.”

For once, you didn’t have a comeback. Your shell fully cracked under his logic, and it seemed like Ramattra understood this.

“I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses.”

You couldn’t even bear to look at him, knowing that if you do you’d end up either violently angry or depressed. He is the reminder of your biggest failure to date.

“You want me to help you, right?”

“I’d be ignorant to not recognize your strengths, and daft to throw you away.”

He should’ve thrown you away so you wouldn’t have to sit with the blinding fury of your own imagination.

“So you’ll weaponize my hatred? Just like how you did with yourself?”

You knew you had hit a soft spot as he slowly straightened his posture, his faceplate not meeting your eyes.

“I did not let my hatred consume me. With a steady hand to guide you— I will make you formidable. I can give you power you never had with Overwatch.”

“Manipulation. Glad you’re still feeling like yourself.”

“You fight me because I am right.”

“I fight you because you’re awful.”

“If I was truly as evil as you make me out to be, you would’ve been dead once I defeated you.”

Your anger grew by each impending jab, each accusation growing louder and louder.

“You’re not benevolent for sparing me just to use me as a pawn for a later scheme of yours— you’ve obviously got ulterior motives.”

Ramattra was silent, his void accelerator dispersing from his grip before he stood as close to the barrier dividing the two of you before he spoke;

“What if I just wish to have you?”

The words stopped dead in your throat. Mouth still agape, you try to reason with yourself that you obviously just hallucinated from the amount of stress captivity has had you in.

“Bullshit. You’re just fucking with my head, right?”

That was until he continued,

“I respect you as an opponent, an equal.”

Only above a whisper, only meant for you,

“Of course it’d end up in obsession.”

There was no way…

“Of course it’d bother me that one human would be able to stop my years of planning.”

Now this is different. You’d never imagine that after all of this time,

“Even worse was when I saw you for the first time—“

Years and years of working against him,

“I couldn’t help but be attracted to you.”

That it’d end up in attraction.

“Ironic, isn’t it? I wish for the freedom of my people— to free the shackles humanity has made for us, only to become magnetized by a human.”

He stepped towards you, finally invading your personal space. He smelled like incense and smoke, he looked beautiful.

“I don’t believe I could be rid of you even if I wanted to be.”

This obviously dumbfounded you. It was hard to believe that Ramattra had any type of affection towards you at all at first until you started to truly think about previous interactions with him.

“This can’t be real.”

“I will show you exactly how real this is.”

Chapter Three, Anathema

This was so different from the last time you stood against him— he was holding back. But now, he had laid himself bare before you.

Suddenly everything he has done made sense. Every interaction previously, every small bit of kindness, every time he didn’t kill you.

You couldn’t deny his beauty, examining his body, from the cables crowning his head like thorns to the tails of his scarf embellished with gold. His faceplate was chiseled with slight dents of where you’d previously hit him in battle. The purple accents of his chassis make him feel like royalty.

“I can only plead that you accept my calling.”

He reached a hand out to you, a deal; a proposal.

Whether it was the hatred of your newfound enemies, your own loathing to yourself, or the confession from Ramattra, you took his hand.

A pact with a devil. An infernal contract.

Either the worst mistake of your life or the best.

Fallen right into the palms of temptation. Indebted to the one who spared you,

“You’re beautiful.”

He looks so different now.

Both terrifyingly powerful but merciful. He has forgiven you of your sins if you only stay with him.

You had finally bitten into the apple, and the serpent sat in front of you— his charismatic words coiled around your mind as he began corrupting you, his tender claims of partnership becoming your metaphorical apple and descent into original sin.

“You will not regret this.”

His voice was saccharine sweet and you thought of promises not yet made— of protection, love, devotion, lust.

His grip on your hand switched to a palm on your shoulder as he guided you like a Shepard guided his herd: with confidence and knowing. Your back met the wall of your enclosure his other hand reached to touch your face like you were made of glass.

To him, you were delicate— beautiful,

Yet to be cleansed of your corruption. Needing to be baptized.

He forced you to meet his optics, and from being so close you could feel the warmth from his fans on your chest,

It was intoxicating.

He had become Tantalus— he had stolen ambrosia from the Gods and been cursed with an incurable hunger and thirst, a gluttony for you that would outlast the heat death of the universe.

He held himself back before you, trying to maintain some of his dignity before falling into his avarice.

“I have waited— I have yearned for you,”

He moved his hands across your body to try to find any purchase, his greedy touch made you gasp. You did similar in response, feeling the alloy of his chest like he had been a statue,

Always out of reach… but now you could finally experience him.

Anything that gave him a reaction he’d repeat, his hands groped at your clothing slow and steady as he fully caged you in,

You had been Prometheus, and given him the fire of passion, lust, obsession.

He pressed himself against you, slowly losing even more of his composure. He groped at your thighs, your chest, shoulders. Nothing felt like enough— the task Sisyphusian in nature. You could feel him become more and more desperate for any kind of relief within your flesh,

The feeling was alien and intoxicating. He didn’t want it to cease.

Your quiet gasps became louder with each ministry, it nearly made him overheat. He had never felt the coolant run through his system so quickly unless he was in battle.

You found his head cradled in your neck,

“Debaucherous.”

Your knees grew weaker by the second, his metallic fingers warmed by your own body tugged at your pants.

You obliged his whims.

After kicking your pants off, he quickly guided you to the floor. He straddled your hips and placed his hands on either side of your head.

The cables around his head created a halo around him, and the heat from his chassis made him look even more ethereal.

“Ramattra,”

You spoke his name like a prayer and traced your hands along his faceplate like you were counting a rosary— impatient for salvation but eager to pledge your creed.

You had finally pledged yourself to him, an oath unbreakable within the eternity of this moment.

“You are mine, and mine alone.”

He spoke it quietly, a siren song to your ears. It was gentle, loving, and ever so complicating.

It was possessive and commanding.

“Please, continue—“

Your ever so sweet plea was answered by Ramattra as he flipped you on your stomach and lifted your hips up before curling on top of you— his chassis flush with your back. One of his arms held your wrists above your head while another one snaked between your thighs.

He must’ve not forgotten about your transgressions.

The pose itself was salacious enough, he was making a show of dominating you. But, there wasn’t enough time for a negative reaction before he started to tease you.

Soft moans fluttered from your mouth and fueled his newly found enthusiasm. He was a quick learner and very keen on getting to know any nook and cranny of your body that made you tremble. Quickly you had become greedy for more of his touch.

He had brought his fingers to your mouth for you to suck on, the metallic pads pressing against your lips softly for an opening. He whispered a quick please into your ear and you happily obliged. He pressed down softly on your tongue with his index and pointer finger while you gently swirled and sucked on the two digits which earned you a small chuckle from Ramattra.

“For someone with such a loud mouth, it’s awfully welcoming for me.”

Degradation coming from him now added to the warmth growing in your stomach, the added feeling of his fingers against your tongue in combination with the lewd pose made you moan against them.

Ramattra removed his fingers out of your mouth with a quick pop before sliding them under your underwear for the first time.

It was overwhelming with the amount of foreplay.

Your mind was fuzzy with lust and your eyes blown out and glazed over. Your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and your body heat had reached what you believed its limits to be.

“You look so angelic below me,”

This moment would definitely be saved in his databank for further analysis once this tryst was over. His thermal camera could see exactly how your body reacted and where.

He reacted perfectly and slid a finger inside of you.

Your body tensed at the intrusion, but it didn’t hurt. Quite the opposite actually, it felt amazing. His finger was quite thick too.

Every moment up until now has felt like an eternity— slow and orchestrated seduction to work you open for him. The noise you made in response was vulgar and guttural.

Whatever inhibition held him back was completely gone. It may have been morbid curiosity or the perverse desire to hear more of the sounds you made during sex.

“Perfect.”

He groaned at the feeling of your body sucking him in. He’d never experienced such want from anything before, especially with such eager responses. Curiosity got the better of him as he inserted his index finger inside.

If you had been able to string sentences together before, you were barely able to now.

The air was forced out of your lungs with a whine while he slowly fucked you open. The sounds of sex filled his ears along with sighs, moans, and his own fans heavily purring against your back.

You chanted his name like stopping would make his fingers cease, your impending orgasm building like the Tower of Babel.

Your arms strained against his hands before he finally let your wrists free from his bruising gasp. One of your hands quickly found its way to the cables draped over your shoulder while your other held onto the ground for dear life.

Tugging onto the cable gave you a low groan— and slightly faster thrusting on his end. In response to your newly found grip, he wrapped his free hand around your neck while his elbow braced against the ground. A gentle squeeze from him made your knees nearly flatten to the floor.

Clearly, he felt the reaction from inside of you.

He kept the same pace but added more pressure, coaxing even more reactions from you.

“Don’t… not until I tell you to.”

You barely nodded into the floor, your legs had started to twitch involuntarily— the pressure in your abdomen building up more and more. Tears threatened to fall and your throat felt dry from constant moaning. You barely held on by a thread before Ramattra squeezed your neck.

“Now.”

Everything led up to this point and it didn’t disappoint. Your orgasm hit like a freight train. Your leg cramped, your back arched into his chest and you saw stars. He slowly fucked you through your high before finally removing his fingers from you.

He sat back and watched his handiwork in real time.

You were exhausted, fingerfucked within an inch of your life by someone whom you once considered to be your greatest enemy.

“Fuck you, Ramattra.”

His monster dick is the best thing that ever happened to your pussy. You’ve never experienced something like it. You aren’t sure you have words to describe it, even. He loves to wrap his wings around you while he fucks you, his whole body wrapped around yours in the warmest of embraces. He fucks you all night long. His dick buried so deep inside of you, his shaft rubbing against his G-spot at every little movement, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine until your thighs can’t stop shaking, and he chuckles in your ear, your utter debauchery is peak comedy to him.

And every once in a while, you enjoy a little rendezvous in the garden. Or anywhere semi-public where the threat of being caught is enough to drive him a little bit wilder, and to get you a little bit wetter. Your heartbeats matched in the cadence of sex while you gasp for breath at every thrust of his hips. To the point that you lose track of time. So much so that you are completely lost in pleasure when the sun starts to rise. Well, to be fair, you were so wrapped into each other that you forgot there was something that would put an end to the garden debauchery.

The second the sun breaks the horizon, your gargoyle boyfriend blinks a total of two times, his mouth open in the middle of an orgasm before he lets out a choked breath and his body freezes over yours. His dick is buried so deep inside you can feel it against your pleasure points. You try to move, but he’s… struck. The sun is up and your gargoyle boyfriend is right inside of you. In the middle of the garden. And he’s going to be frozen there for the next seven to eight hours (luckily for you, it’s still winter).

At first, you are just resting there, but then you roll your hips a little bit and gasp. You can feel him so deep inside, and the ridges on his dick still feel so good… You wonder if you could cum by just moving your hips slightly. A few moments later you discover that the answer to that question is yes. Not only you can come, but it feels incredibly good to be squeezing around his hard as stone (pun intended again) dick.

Your friendship with the owl started well enough when you moved to the city two years ago. He was happy for the new face and welcomed you to Meriad with open wings and several suggestions about which books you should read when he heard about your preferences. He was respectful and kind. Then, your job began to be too demanding, and you started getting late with bringing back the books you borrowed. He was patient and understanding at first, but his demeanor changed for the worse every time you were late. Before you knew it, the male you thought was a new friend looked at you like you were his biggest enemy.

It was too late, though.

You were madly and deeply in love with him by the time, he started hating you.

That's why it hurts so much when you are late with his precious books. You hate to disappoint him. You want him to be kind and nice to you again, even though his anger and sternness always do things to you, no matter how much you try to deny it.

Wanting to get away from him as fast as possible, you quickly disappear behind the bookshelves. They tower over you easily, hiding you from his dark gaze and the burning of his attention on the back of your head.

You need long minutes to calm yourself down and start to focus on the books around you. 

The familiar scent of the old building and papers fills your nostrils as you wander through the long rows. Your fingers caress over the spine of the books as you read the titles.

The orange glow of the setting sun filters into the library through the tinted windows. They illuminate the tall walls and glint on the chandeliers hanging off the painted ceiling.

The library is quiet and calm. You can hear someone moving around from time to time, but you don't pay attention to them. You focus on the books, picking one or two up every now and again to get to know more before deciding to keep it or put it back. By the time you are done, your arms hurt under their weight.

"Great," you grunt under your breath, pushing down your anxiety because of the fact that you have to face the angry owl again.

Well, if you are lucky, his co-worker…

But no.

Mr. Harkins already stares at you with a scowl on his feather-covered face when you appear from behind the shelves. The golden of his eyes seems vivid and liquid in contrast with the whites and browns of his feathers. The yellowish color of his hands at the end of his wings matches with the shade of his beak. His black claws are short and blunt.

"No," he breaks the silence as you drop your collection on his table with a quiet thud.

Your brows lift in surprise. "What?"

"If you borrow so many books, you will be late again."

"I won't," you tell him, feeling like a child under his stern, scolding gaze.

"Don't lie to me, Miss Flores."

"The policy says one can't borrow more than ten books," you tell him. You shouldn't be brave enough to talk back, but him not letting you take as many books with you as you want almost feels humiliating. "It's only eight," you add, pointing at the pile between you and the angry bird.

"One last time," he grunts.

The few minutes while he takes care of the books and you put them away are silent, tense, and awkward. Shame and guilt burn your cheeks because of your argument. You are sure he has to force himself not to ban you from the library, and you are not sure what stops him.

"Thank you, Mr. Harkins," you break the silence, adjusting the straps of your bag on your shoulder as you make your way to the exit. "Have a good night."

"Miss Flores," he calls after you. "If you are late again, you will be punished."

Hearing his warning, your lips open with shock, but no words come out as the door closes behind you.

-

After you called the library for an extra two weeks and Mr. Harkins's co-worker was the one who answered the phone, you thought you were safe. Two weeks should be enough for a book that is barely longer than two hundred pages. In other circumstances, it would have been enough if not for your job. The hospital changed your shifts at the last minute, and after working long hours at night, you were too tired to read at daylight.

You should have returned the books two weeks ago.

Two weeks.

Mr. Harkins will ban you from the library; you are sure of it. You have two weeks to accept the fact that you will have to go to the other side of the city if you want to read without leaving a fortune in the bookshops.

But facing the owlman? Yeah, your stomach turns with anxiety when you think about it.

You sit at the table in your small kitchen. The books are in front of you in a pile as you stare at them accusingly as if your being in trouble is their fault.

What if you don't take them back? What is the worst that can happen? Maybe you have to pay some fine. And you can never go even near the library again, afraid you will meet Mr. Harkins. But with your luck, you will meet him somewhere else. And he will tear your head off in the middle of the street in front of everyone.

"Shit," you groan, holding your head in both of your hands as you lean onto the table with your elbows. You want to say more, but the ringing of your phone doesn't let you. The familiar sound fills the small flat.

"Yes?" You answer without looking at the screen. It's probably the hospital, anyway.

"Miss Flores?" You can feel your blood freezing in your veins at the sullen voice. "The books, Miss Flores."

"Yes," you gasp. "I will return them today."

"After the library is closed."

You frown. "What? Why?"

"Am I clear, Miss Flores?"

You gulp, fidgeting. "Yes, Mr. Harkins."

"Good," he grunts. "I will wait for you."

Okay. What is the worst that Mr. Harkins can do to you? Ban you? You already accepted the idea. Maybe he will make you clean up the library or help with the books. He can't do that, but you wouldn't be brave enough to say no if he asked.

You spend the whole day with rocks in your stomach. You try to calm yourself and be careless about it, but you can't lie to yourself. You are in trouble.

By the time the library closes, you are in front of the building, trying to gather your courage to make yourself enter.

The sun is already setting. The lights reflect on the buildings around you, gliding across the windows. The library's tinted glasses glint under the orange glow. The traffic behind you on the road is still busy and loud. The sound of honks and the rumble of engines echo off the tall walls, vibrating in the autumn breeze. You have to step and move every now and again so you are not in the way of anyone who has better things to do than stand in front of the library. You reach the entrance door like this, with quiet apologies and smiles.

When you finally enter, the library is even more silent than usual, and the desk not far from the entrance is empty.

This is your chance, you think with a sharp inhale. You put the books down, leave, and never come back.

"Miss Flores, you come." Mr. Harkins's voice mixes with the quiet thud of the books as they land on the hard surface of the desk.

Your heart stops beating for long seconds.

"Yes," you squeak out. "As you wanted, Mr. Harkins."

"See? You can be a good girl, Miss Flores if you want to."

You are sure he can hear the change in your breathing when he calls you a good girl. Anxiety and excitement rush over your body, going straight between your legs.

"I will go now," you tell him, still not having enough courage to turn and look at him. "I still have things to do and…"

"Not so fast, Miss Flores," he says, stopping you before you can move even an inch. "I still have to punish you."

At his words, you turn to him. "Mr. Harkins, I-"

"Turn back," he commands, and you can't help but scowl at him. He wears his usual three-piece suit. The brown shades of the fabric match his feathers. His round glasses rest on the base of his beak.

"Turn. Back," he repeats himself. "Before I make your punishment worse."

You do as he says.

"Take off your pants." His next demand makes you freeze and burn at the same time. Your cheeks heat up as you feel his waiting gaze on your back.

"Mr. Harkins-"

"Do I have to tell you everything twice, Miss Flores?"

"No, Mr. Harkins," you reply, unbuttoning your jeans to push them down to your knees.

"All the way," he says. "I want you to spread your legs."

Fuck.

Even though you feel humiliated, your pussy thinks otherwise. You are already wet and aching.

"What if someone sees?" You ask quietly.

"It's just us, little girl," he says. "You don't have to worry."

You nod, keeping your mouth shut. His gaze is heavy on the curve of your bottom even though you still wear your panties. You are curious if he can see the wet patch on the fabric or if you are not that soaked yet.

"Now bend over and spread your legs." He is getting closer.

Pushing away the books from the way, you follow his command once again. You want to know what happens next.

"Good girl," he hums, and your pussy throbs at his praise. Yeah, you want to be his good girl. You imagined the librarian so many times but never quite like this.

"Push out your ass," he says from above you. Your insides twitch at his closeness.

Fuck.

His hand lands on the small of your back. His touch is warm and slow as his hold slips down to your bottom. He grabs the flesh there, squeezing and groping you. His claws still feel sharp even though you know they are blunt.

"I will spank you," the owlman states.

His fingers slip under the waist of your panties, pulling down the fabric until it stretches around your knees. The library's air feels cold on your heated skin.

"How many days ago you should have brought back the books?" Mr. Harkins asks.

"Fourteen days ago," you squeak out. Your cheek is pressed against the wooden surface of the desk. Your hands are next to your head in small fists.

"Uh-uh," he disagrees. "Before that, you asked for two more weeks."

You gasp and almost stand up, but the owlman's other hand stops you from doing that. "That's too much," you tell him.

"It is," he agrees with a sigh. He sounds amused. "Let's stay at fourteen, but you have to count them loudly, and I will add one more every time I don't hear you."

"Yes, sir," you reply.

His chuckle is satisfied as he smooths down on your ass cheeks, warming up the skin for what happens next.

"Good girl," he says. "Now, count."

The first slap comes suddenly and powerfully. Your whole body jerks and jumps at the pain that strikes through your skin.

"One," you cry out.

Another slap. "Two."

Three more. "Three, four, five."

Your bottom burns under his assault. Your flesh jiggles after every loud smack that echoes off the walls.

"You don't know how many times I imagined you like this," he says.

"Six."

"Every time you were late, I wanted to bend you over the desk or my knees and spank that sweet ass of yours until they were red and ripe under my hand."

"Seven."

"At first, when you started coming here, I thought we could be friends, you know? He asks without wanting an answer.

"Eight."

"I thought you were a nice girl who respects the library's and my rules, but no."

"Nine." At this point, your ass is on fire.

"You had to be late every damn time."

"I'm sorry," you cry and gasp. "It wasn't my-"

Smack. Smack.

"Mr. Harkins!"

"You didn't count, bad girl. Add two more."

"No, wait!"

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Ten. Eleven. Twelve."

Your face is wet from your tears, and your pussy pulses with need. Sobs shake your body as you cry. You hate to disappoint him. Guilt and pain eat you while he still keeps you down on the table. Smack. Smack. You count loudly and hoarsely.

"Two more, sweet girl," he says, caressing the redness of your skin. He is more gentle now, giving you a few seconds to take deep breaths and calm yourself down.

"Two more," he repeats, "and we will be done. Your punishment will be over, and you will be forgiven, alright?

"Yes, sir," you nod, still sobbing.

"Good girl."

Smack.

"Fifteen," you count.

"And one last."

"Sixteen," you gasp, relieved.

"Good girl," he praises you, caressing your burning skin. "I know you can be a good girl if you want to. I'm proud of you."

Every praising word and touch lifts something off your chest that lets you breathe again. The tears stop but your pussy still throbs and aches. The pain Mr. Harkins inflicted on you was nowhere near enough to lessen your desire for the owl.

"You want something else, aren't you?" He asks, amused again. "Your pretty cunt is sopping wet."

His hand glides down to your center. The tip of his finger is rough against the slit of your cunt.

"Mr. H-Harkins," you gasp, pushing yourself against him. "Please."

"Uh-uh," he hums, shaking his head even though you can't see him. His wide eyes shine with hunger and satisfaction. You are wet and slick under his touch. The scent of your arousal is thick and heavy in the air.

"I can't reward you after your punishment, can I?" He chuckles, still playing with your wet folds. The tip of his finger finds your clit every now and again but never stays there for long enough to make you feel good.

"Please," you breathe out, pressing your forehead against the desk. It's cold under your heated, slightly sweaty skin.

"How about this," he says, still exploring your pussy as he talks. "I let you choose three books now, and if you bring them back in time, I will give you a reward you want."

"Okay, sir," you answer. You know you can do nothing but agree.

"Good girl," he hums, leaving your pussy to lean down and take off your panties.

"Mr. Harkins?" You gasp sharply.

"I will keep them," he smirks. "Now go and choose three books, Miss Flores."

Your legs shake as you get up from the desk and make a few tentative steps to the shelves. The skin of your inner thighs is wet and uncomfortable.

Stopping in your tracks, you look back at the male over your shoulder. He is leaning against his desk with his wings over his chest. His golden eyes are sharp and satisfied as he looks over your half-naked body.

"Go on, little girl."

You feel humiliated and excited at the same time again as you wander between the shelves. His eyes are on you the whole time. 

You are not sure where this all will lead you with Mr. Harkins, but you know for a fact that you will return the books in time.

he took what you gave and still demanded more. a groan escaped him, like it hurt him physically to pull away. but before you could even miss the warmth of his lips it was already back in full force against your neck, him leaving hot trails of kisses as he moved lower, sucking slightly on ridge of your collarbone, a breathy moan that left your mouth served as a fuel for leon as he brought his free hand to skillfully open the buttons of your silk pajamas, revealing your naked breasts in their glory. the man let out a sigh full of wonderment at your gorgeous body, worshipping every inch on your skin as though his kisses were the prayers.

”so beautiful. so perfect,” he mumbled, the timber of his voice sent shivers all the way down to the end of your spine. his wet mouth found your right nipple, sucking as his other hand twisted your left one in-between his fingers, the stimulation made your stomach jolt at the overwhelming sensation, abdomen unconsciously chasing the pleasure and meeting him halfway. leon’s heavy breath ghosted over your chest, turned on beyond belief, his eyes deep in a haze; lust glossing across his orbs.  

“l-leon,” your needy whine snapped him out of a trance, letting you go and he could say with confidence doing so was harder than him having to pull out a knife out of his arm that one time. he licked once more out of greed before planting soft kisses down to your stomach, his hand couldn’t quite get it off your tit just yet, his thumb brushed over your stiff as a rock nipple like an anchor, a reminder that you desired him just as much as he did you in that moment. 

he moved lower, lower, until his chin felt the fabric of your waistband, hooking a finger on it but he stopped himself, tilting his head as he faced you. “can i baby? ‘ve had a long day,” he asked gruffly, the gravel on his voice practically made your pussy tingled in excitement.  there was nothing explicit in his words yet your mind filled the blanks pretty fast, your brain answered first by nodding rapidly before your mouth could catch up. something in the way he pleaded had made you so eager for his touch, the man had just declared that pleasing you would help him relieve some stress, like you’re the one doing him a favor instead. what else were you supposed to say besides hell yes?

leon flashed you a smile that could make a grown man or woman weak on their knees before giving your lower stomach another kiss in gratitude; like someone who had been denied water in the middle of desert for a long time had finally found a lake to quench his thirst. a smirk that from your experience, was filled with a promise that had something to do with your ability to walk properly tomorrow.

he pulled down your shorts, you lifted your legs in response like it’s second nature, making it easier for him to take off your pants. he threw the fabric to the ground without care, his eyes loyal and unmoving like he’s stuck in a trance towards what the cloth was hiding this whole time. at his stare you attempted to close your legs but the grip of his hand on your inner thigh prevented you so, leon knelt in front of the bed as he put your legs on your shoulders, supporting your lower half; dangling if it weren’t for his sturdy body.  

there it was in its most beautiful state, your soaking cunt right in front of his face. leon used the back of his hand to wipe the corner of his mouth, he could’ve sworn he thought he was drooling. “fuck. is this all for me?” he whispered, you could hear the proud smile in his question, knowing damn well what the answer was. you stared at the ceiling hoping it will help you to form some kind of a proper counter, yet you couldn’t find it in you to think of anything aside from this subliminal want for the male to do something.

you squealed at the touch of his rough hand brushing over your fold, the movement was slow, excruciatingly careful as he took his time like he’s admiring a piece of art. for a man who looked like he was ready to destroy any obstacle to get to this point, leon was unusually patient and looked very much in control. 

or so you thought, until both of his arms sneaked themselves around your thighs locking your legs in place and you knew right there and then. there will be nothing stopping him from enjoying the feast he’s about to devour. and he made sure of that. 

your body shook in anticipation as leon leaned in, running his tongue across your lips very slowly. each sweep getting deeper, sending mental notes to his senses so they would remember this taste forever. carving it thoroughly like a man who refused to take this moment for granted. your hips bucked at the sensation, chasing it in urgencyfor more, for it to be deeper.

”m-more please,” you pleaded, heaving. having no damn idea how you could be so out of breath even though leon was the only one doing all the moving, yet with every touch of his tongue, every tease, you found it hard to keep yourself in check. 

“patience baby, i’m going to take my time with you alright? waited all damn day for this,” he replied with ease, fooling no one when his boxer looked like it was about to burst by his bulging erection. yet he stayed true to his words, because above his own pleasure what got him off the most was seeing your face in bliss, expression changing in every careful touch he did; enjoying how sensitive you became under his hand. 

leon eyed your swollen clit that’s already begging to be licked, sucked, anything. and who was he to deny you that? his mouth then moved to the delicate spot, flicking it gently with his tongue as your body jerked like it’s burned alive, finally being granted the pleasure you’ve been waiting for. even when you flailed, leon easily sucked your bud with a scary accuration as he held your lower body steady; the sounds he made as his lips kept licking and swirling were like it came straight out of porn. 

you let out a shameless moan and leon thrived under it, basking under the sexy noise you made like he’s an athlete who trained his whole life for this. and he would, if given the chance. him and your pussy everyday? give him a gun if he’d ever deny that. but that’s a wishful thought, a fake—albeit enticing situation he’d found himself daydreaming about, unlike right now, where your very real sopping wet cunt was right in front of him, all for him to please. 

“you taste so fucking good.” leon hummed contently, his tongue encircling your clit like a madman who couldn’t get enough, feeling like he was about to cum in his pants every time he felt your center pulsate, twitching because he knew it did that only for him, by his touch only. you grinded your hips on his tongue, chasing for more friction. by then leon had started to lose himself, his control, like a man who was finally at the end of his wits, he began to eat you out genuinely.

his wild movement raw with lust, borderline unhinged as he leaned in deeper to caress and suck your slit like his life depended on it. you were sent into a state of frenzy at the ambush of his tongue, the grip on your thighs preventing you from pulling away as he worked on your already swelled clit, you felt your orgasm coming, stomach coiled. your hands that were grabbing the sheets were now on his dirty blonde hair, holding the soft strands tight like it’s your lifeline, the only thing keeping you still on ground. the tug on his hair as you led him deeper was what sent leon into overdrive, clinging to it like it’s an addiction as he got rougher.

“i-i’m cumming!” you screamed loudly, you were sure the neighbor could hear it so you knew for a fact that leon heard it as well yet his mouth stayed relentless. even as you writhed, overstimulated by the overwhelming waves of thrill he didn’t stop pleasuring you, even as you came undone his tongue was merciless, he was right there with you as you rode out your climax, never stopping even for a second. there were only flashes of light in the blackness as you eyes rolled, your spine tight with heat as you finished.

insatiable, that’s what he was. your hips stuttered, unfurling as he lapped up your release until the very last drop like it’s the best tasting meal he had all week. even with your cum smeared all around his lips, his skin glistening from the lights reflection the man still looked like he wanted more. 

and more he took.

”w-wait leon, ‘m too sensitive,” you whimpered, asking for mercy he wasn’t going to give, mercy you weren’t sure you were going to accept either. after all, leon knew more than anyone that you had just as much unsatiated appetite as he was when it comes to this. you panted, your hands were still on his hair, squeezing it to prevent him from starting again, neither pushing him away. 

“i know you have one more in there baby, do it for me?” he asked gently, though his gesture was anything but. mouth already on your quivering cunt and you let him, you always do. grinding his tongue against your swollen clitoris once more without giving you a break. you gasped, closing your legs out of reflex and without his hands holding your legs back anymore as they were on your knees, your thighs were practically smothering the man yet he didn’t seem to mind it even a bit. with him continuing to move without a care as he held your legs tighter around him, the man looked like he was exactly where he wanted to be. 

when the fresh wave of intense pleasure started to hit you once more, you began to moan louder. the increased sensitivity on your clit had pushed you into taking more than you could, eager in giving the man everything he needed, since he gave you the same. intangible string of pleads escaped your lips as leon pressed on, knowing exactly how much you loved it when your limit was being tested. and even with the repetitive motion you didn’t find the man’s movement any less rigorous than before, it was actually the opposite. the thought of bringing you into the edge for the second time in just a short span of period made leon an ambitious man. no, it made him a beast.

“i-i can’t. ‘m close,” your core clenched and unclenched its muscles at the marvel of the man’s lips. who seemed like it had memorized every curve, every spot that would drive you wild. and he had full intent in doing so as his touch rapidly becoming more staggering,  every flick pushing you under a rush that eventually became too much for you to hold. something that felt like a hot chain coiled itself within your stomach, tighter and tighter, begging for the sweet release of climax.

“come on my tongue, let me taste you again.” and like some kind of a mantra, you did just that, a yell of ecstasy cut through the room as your hips faltered erratically all under the soft of his touch, making sure you knew you were safe with him to feel it all, to let go. leon groaned like he ejaculated himself, the feeling of you coming undone was something he’ll never get used to, something that he wanted to all the time if he could. 

you panted like someone had personally taken the oxygen from the room, inhaling air like you lack the source. coming down from the high you had noticed once again leon had lapped you all clean sateless man than he is. and when he showed no sign of getting up and changing his position, you started to worry. 

“um, leon?” you called carefully.

“yeah?” he replied in ease, like a man without worry. 

“aren’t you done?” 

he gazed at you, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead which somehow added more to his sex appeal. he still had half of his face buried in your pussy, like someone really had to physically pull him back to get him away from it. 

“one more, please baby? i know you have it in you.”

“i-i don’t know if i can, leon,”

“you can. please sweetheart. for me?”

and you knew you could, especially if it’s with leon. so you nodded, having no idea what you just agreed to.

he made you cum twice more after that.

"You are so pretty like this," you coo. Your words are followed by his groan as he closes his eyes for a long second while turning his head away from you. You know if he would lie before you in his human form, you could see him blushing.

"Poor baby," you continue, leaving the end of the bed to approach him with slow, confident steps. Your fingers rake over the thick fur at the top of his head. Rome preens under your caress, incapable of hiding his reaction to your closeness.

"It's okay," you hum, enjoying the situation maybe a bit too much. But how could you not? After the wolf-shifter jumped on you because of his rut, you have every reason to take advantage of him like that, tied down and exposed.

"We will have so much fun!"

Climbing up on the bed beside him, you settle down on your knees, letting your gaze wander up and down on his body the whole time. You feel like a little kid in the candy store. There is this hunk of a wolf in front of you, and you don't even know where to start with him.

"You know I could tear them apart if I wanted to," he breaks the silence for the first time in a while. He tugs on the ropes, and the bed creaks under the sudden force.

You smirk at him again, letting your hand rest on the middle of his chest. Your fingers play with his fur, seeking out the warmth of his skin underneath it. "I know," you reply. "But what would be the fun in that?"

He knows you are right. He didn't agree to do this for nothing. He was intrigued by the idea of you taking control and having your way with his body. And again, after what he had done, he owns you this.

"My pretty puppy," you whisper under your breath as your hand slips down from his chest to his crotch. Your nails graze over the tight muscles of his stomach, and you tease the sensitive skin around the base of his cock without touching his length even for a moment. It juts out, erected, and already leaking.

"I barely touched you," you grin, flicking the tip of his cock gently.

The shifter grows, and the bed creaks again. "Y/N!"

"Shh," you shake your head. "You promised."

The male groans again because he knows you are right, and he can do nothing about it. When he relaxes back on the bed, you continue your exploration. Your fingertip runs down at the underside of his cock, brushing over his heavy balls between his thick thighs and back up on his upper body until you reach his chin. You turn his head so he faces you. His almond-shaped eyes are focused and intense as he looks back at you. His ears twitch at the top of his head, waiting for your next move.

"Hey," you grin, leaning closer until your nose touches his snout.

"Hey," Rome grunts with flaring nostrils. Your scent fills his senses with a hint of your building arousal.

The kiss you share with the wolf-shifter is awkward and clumsy. It's all sharp teeth and tongue, but it's not less enjoyable as you let yourself lean closer, bracing yourself on his chest with an open palm. You can feel the strong and steady beat of his heart through the thick plates of his muscles.

"Y/N." Your name comes out breathlessly. His tongue licks over his canines as if trying to savor your taste.

You hum. "I'm here." You restart your caressing from his chest down to his erection. You can feel his abdomen clenching under your fingertips as you brush your fingers through his fur. It's warm and soft, and your palm tingles with the urge to curl your fingers and grab onto him.

You take your time, petting him and playing with the thick strands covering his whole body. By the time you reach his cock, it twitches with a damp, dark pink tip. You flick it again, not even caring about the shifter's unamused grunt as you lift your finger to your mouth, tasting him. His heavy gaze burns, and you make sure to lick him off of your finger thoroughly.

Your name leaves his lips once again with more desperation and impatience. His hips buck upwards, his cock bobs in the air, and you take the not-so-subtle hint with a grin on your face.

"So impatient," you huff, amused.

Readjusting yourself between his legs, your hands land on his thighs. Your nails glide over his taut, twitching muscles, sending a shiver through his whole body.

"Don't-" Rome starts to say something, but his words die on his tongue when you bend over to press a soft, teasing kiss on the swollen tip of his erection. A shuddering breath leaves his chest that ends in a sharp exhale when you poke out your tongue and lick the sensitive underside of his glans, making him jerk with the sudden sensation. His hands curl into fists as he pulls on his bonds keeping him on the bed. The tug is hard enough to make the frame of the bed rattle, but he has still enough control over himself not to tear the ropes apart.

You continue lapping at the head of his cock, savoring the musky, earthy taste of his pre-cum. Holding him steadily at the base, you lick a warm, wet path over his shaft before taking him all the way into your mouth. You alternately suck and stroke him while the shifter growls and snarls into the otherwise quiet bedroom. His cock is a pleasant weight on your tongue as you hollow your cheeks to suck him deeper. Your hand twists around his hard girth while giving the tip quick, darting licks and sloppy kisses. You let yourself drool on his erection, smearing your own saliva all over his length.

You peer up at him through your lashes, watching him staring at the bobbing motion of your head as your lips stretch hungrily around him. His gaze is sharp and already half-delirious, and his long tongue hangs out of his large mouth as he pants and wheezes. His hips buck up every now and again, hitting the back of your throat with a low, dangerous snarl when the vibration of your choking on his cock surges through his spine.

The sight of him so exposed and vulnerable under you makes your pussy clench with need even though you didn't even touch yourself yet. Your flimsy underwear is soaked, sticking to your slit as your hips rock back and forth every few minutes, trying to get some friction but failing every time.

"If you would let me..." He starts with a knowing, smug smile, but you shake your head even before he can finish the sentence.

"You," you point at him. "You stay there until I decide otherwise."

The swollen head of his cock glistens with your saliva and his pre-cum when you let him go to get out of bed for a second. The wolf growls, annoyed, but says nothing.

You get rid of your clothes quickly, letting the small fabrics fall on the ground before climbing back up above him with an excited, burning coil in your lower stomach. You can feel your own wetness every time your thighs rub together as you move.

Rome watches the scene breathlessly. His lungs burn, and his muscles are already sore from being so taut for so long, but these things are the last ones on his mind right now. His eyes wander down from the soft line of your shoulders to the tantalizing curve of your breasts and hard nipples. He salivates at the sight, wanting to sit up and feel them under his tongue and take them into his mouth until you have to push his large head away because they become too sensitive, and tears gather in your eyes every time he nibbles on them. But no, he grunts, pulling on the ropes once again with a tense snarl that makes you grin down at him.

"Poor pup," you mock him. "How does it feel, huh? I do what I want with you, and you can do nothing about it."

Both of you know that it's a lie. He could get rid of his bonds within a second, but he lets you have your fun. And even though he is annoyed by your words, he loves seeing you so confident and happy. And your saliva on his throbbing cock is not a bad feeling either.

Lowering yourself above his erection, you place your hands on his stomach to keep your balance as the head of his cock slides over your slit. The blunt tip teases your folds and rubs your clit. Anticipation ripples through your body as you reach down to grab him between your fingers, stroking him up and down a few times before positioning his dick to your entrance.

You know you should make yourself more ready for him, but despite your words and constant teasing, you know very well that your fun can end any moment if the shifter under you loses his patience.

Holding your breath, you watch him watching you sliding down on his cock inch by inch. The tight ring of your pussy stretches and pulses on his thickness, making you cry out with desperation.

You need several minutes and small, grinding motions to get used to the feeling of him inside you, stuffing you full and rubbing all over your walls while he watches the scene transfixed. He throbs and leaks at the sight of his cock disappearing in your warm, wet channel.

Slowly, you start to rock your hips back and forth. The muscles of your thighs are tense as you keep some of your weight on your legs so you can keep moving. A few times, you accept him as deep as possible, moaning and wheezing. Your walls contract around his cock every time the tip of his length hits the sensitive, spongy spot inside you. Your muscles flutter and grip him tighter.

You ride him as fast as you can, chasing your own orgasm. You can feel it at the corner, approaching but never truly reaching you. Desperate mewls and cries roll out of your mouth as you scowl and nibble on your lower lip. A thin layer of sweat glistens on your heated skin, rolling down your cheeks, cleavage, and the line of your spine. Rome got you so used to his merciless pounding that you can't make yourself cum with such a disappointing speed. It's enough to keep your desire alive but not enough to push you over the edge. You chant his name, complaining and begging while the wolf tries to buck his hips into you despite him still bound to the bed.

Frustration grows inside your heaving chest as you scowl. Damn wolf, you think. Rome got you so used to him having his way with your body that he ruined this for you. Bouncing up and down on his lap is simply not enough anymore.

You can feel the change in the air when Rome has enough of your silly, little playtime. The bed creaks one last time as the ropes snap around his wrists and ankles. They fall to the ground and on the bed without a sound. Before you know it, his large paws are on your hips, holding you bruisingly tight while he braces himself on the mattress. Your breath catches in your throat for a second before Rome punches a loud, crying moan out of your lips with one strong push of his hips. Keeping you in place, the wolf fucks up into you, stuffing you full with his hard, throbbing cock while the only thing you can do is whimper and hold onto his hands.

Now that his knees are up in the air, you can lean back against them with your hands, arching your back while the shifter still bullies your pussy without a second of pause. Your tits bounce with every, almost painful thrust while your pussy clenches and flutters around his rigid erection. Your eyes roll back, and your moan is hoarse and breathless as you say his name when your orgasm rocks through your body, turning your blood into molten lava in your veins. The male snarls at the tightness of your drenched cunt, pulling you down on himself to shoot his hot, thick load into you. You can feel every throb and twitch of his cock as the wolf cums, plastering your walls in his seed while his knot presses inside your mercilessly.

"Fuck!" The word bursts out of your lips breathlessly. The only thing keeping you on top of him is the wolf, holding you tightly while grinding up into your pulsing, gushing cunt.

His knot is still thick inside your fluttering walls when you let yourself lay down on his wide chest, breathless and weak.

"We need stronger ropes," you hum. Your voice is barely louder than a whisper.

Vader's glove digs into your hip, using his knee to keep your legs spread on his lap. His Stoic presence is a reminder of your place; you belong next to him, at all times— and if he says no, then you stay where he wants you to.

"I just thought— thought it would be fun," You pant, throwing your head back.

"I don't have you by my side to think," He muses, speeding up the movements of his fingers, rubbing the leather against that spot that makes you jolt forward, grunting under his breath and pressing you further against his broad, metallic chest.

The loud slick noises make your cheeks heat up. He has you splayed in front of the window, forcing you to watch that stupid Ferris Wheel— torturing you with that banal desire you have, and reminding you that you belong and act under his command.

"Silly little girl," He continues, darting his eyes down, the lower part of his helmet resting on the top of your head. "You have everything you wish for here, and yet you ask for such a mundane thing."

Whimpering, your thighs tremble, feeling the rush of the approaching orgasm building in your lower stomach. Vader seems to notice it too, his thumb reaching to circle your clit, moving his digits in a gentle scissoring motion. The mess you have made over his fingers trickles down your skin, almost dripping onto the floor.

"Are you close, little thing?" He mocks you, the polished edge of his helmet digging into your scalp. "You want to come?"

Nodding, you beg. Beg for it like the desperate little thing you are. You know he enjoys it— and you do too, there's no denying. Closing your eyes, you forget about the damn amusement park, letting yourself feel the pleasurable release. Vader holds you tighter as you teeter over the edge, your entire body shivering and hips rolling, your voice wavering with delight...

Then he stops.

With a frustrated whine, your hand curls around his thick wrist, biting your lip as the orgasm you craved begins to fade slowly. The deep, low chuckle that escapes his chest fills you with a frustrating heat, but you don't dare to question him.