Ever thought about a sub who begs/asks for sex first, saying he really wants it or needs it all night long and all that?
And after getting what he demanded, he’s so smug and happy, enjoying every touch to the fullest. Though after some time, with each passing round, their grin starts to fade— suddenly he’s a fucked out wreck who has climaxed so often that a simple brush of your fingers against his heated skin was painful.
Yet you still haven’t stopped… still wringing out pleasure from his dry body. Now he’s begging for you to stop, to give him a small break!! Saying that he’s too tired to go on even more rounds. Crying and pleading so desperately now, even though he was the one who brought this upon himself…
What to do~ you weren’t anywhere near satisfied, but his whines were just too cute, “p-please… hiicc no ♡ no more r-rounds ah-ngHhn..!!~ c-can’t cum anymore.. ah-hnghHn ♡♥︎♡ m’so-sorry…!! Hurts… ah, please, I need a b-break…♥︎♡”
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Your hands are pressing his to the mattress so possessively...
It's sinful how loud he moans when you stop him from grabbing onto you, pinning his scrambling and twitching hands to the soft sheets of the bed he was being fucked so mercilessly on.
"Pl- Pleasheee!~" he cries out for you and calls your name soon after. His voice is broken, desperate and a clear representation of his debauched self.
The many hours he had spent under your body, receiving the mind breaking pleasure that you had to offer him had already turned his pretty little head to mush.
Oh, but he should've known better, right? Known better than to flirt with that whore at the bar. But he just couldn't get enough of your jealously filled roughness. It was truly divine, pushing his body well past its limits.
"Hic- 'm SORRY!!~♡ Re-really am- HNGH~" his voice is breaking, it's pitch is so high and whiny as he pleads for a break, for you to slow down. But he knows he doesn't really want that, he wants to be fucked brainless, turned into a stupid little slut, your stupid little slut.
Your thrusts continued their harsh pace, bullying your darling's hole just right. You kept hitting the poor thing's bruised and throbbing prostate, driving him to orgasm for the nth time that night. But.. did you give him permission? No, you didn't.
"Wuh-wait! No 'm sorry- pleashe forgive m-me! AHN!-" his little babbling apology is cut short by yet another hard thrust and another mean bite to his already tender neck. He's biting his lip as you squeeze his pretty hands tighter and pin his body down with an even firmer grip.
No matter how much the pretty thing pleads for you to stop he never uses his safe-word, only screaming out your name like its going to make you forgive him. Well.. you already have forgiven him, but were you going to pass up the opportunity to have your baby crying and begging? No, you weren't. So he's just going to have to take it for a while longer.. ♡
KAEYA, CHILDE, dottore, kaveh, boothill, DOUMA, sunday, DAZAI, NIKOLAI, zhongli, HAWKS, wriothesley, alhaitham, dabi, dan heng, jing yuan, AVENTURINE, dr. ratio, your favs...
mafia boss! bottom! sub! Male! character x top! Male! Dom! Sadistic! Mafia enforcer! Reader
“S-stop! Y-you fuc-ahhh-ing bastard!” He sobbed out, biting down on his bottom lip leaving it split and bleeding, when you roughly thrust into his ruined hole. The head of your cock ramming into his abused prostate.
Low muttered volatile curses in foreign language left his lips. The sharp pain mixed with pleasure forced out watery cum that spat out of his cock, spattering on his stomach and face. His body rocking involuntarily with the movements of your thrusts.
“Y-you took enough! S-stop!!” He choked out, fat tears unknowingly rolling down his cheek mixing with his cum. Its salty taste clung to his lips falling onto his tongue.
“Have I?” You slow just enough to make it look like your actually considering it. Glazed over eyes meet yours, a broken sob leaving his swollen lips.
“Y-yes! P-please stop…mercy!” He begged, despite the humiliation that burned in his veins. His hands fisted against the sheets, fingernails digging into the silk sheets.
“Well, that’s for me to decide.” You give a sharp grin and continue. Shoving your thick cock in again, hitching his hips higher to press in deeper. A sharp whine like noise leaving his lips.
“No no no! Do-don’t or..or!” He sobbed louder, wailing his words broken with hitched breaths as he desperately tried to suck in air. One last sharp thrust that pressed in deeper, deeper that he could have thought was possible.
“Or I’ll cum!” He let out a broken sob, face twisted in pleasure, arching into the touch, crying as he finished. Cum splattered in an arch against your both chest, untouched squirting like a bitch in heat.
The great mafia leader reduced to a begging slut.
Pain mixed with pleasure in a delicious combination that sent him spiraling when you didn’t stop. The long drag of your cock taking against his abused walls, pressing against his sweet spot with relentless pressure.
“Ah ah! St-stop! Pl’ease!!” The words barely registered to him. All he could feel was the intense pleasure that kept washing over him in waves consuming him, pulling him under a hazy of pleasure and overstimulation.
Your hands on his body and lips agaisnt his skin sent warm sparks of pleasure, drowned out by each thrust.
He couldn’t keep going. He was too old for this. To be used recklessly, forced to come multiple times and toyed with.
But he couldn’t help the pleasure that came with it. His cock laid soft agaisnt his stomach, even with his stamina depleted, the dizzying pleasure and pain, that forced his cock to harden to half mast.
Your hot thick cock stretching out his hole like a fuck toy. Legs forced up held in a bruising grip. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh punctuated with the lewd slick of lube making the glide of your cock easier, driving him crazy.
He doesn’t even remember when he passed out. All he remembers is being manhandled into a different position. Thighs raised up and hip canted out, and the sting of your teeth that forced a keening whine out his throat.
And then your hand a tight firm grip wrapped around the base of his cock. The callous of your palm from years of handling weapons tugging against the over sensitive skin, the veins throbbing warm against your palm.
His eyes squeezed shut like he could hide form the humiliation. Moans forced out his throat, from the dual sensation of being used and jerked off.
“F-fuckkk! St’p!” He begged hands wrapped around your shoulder to hold on. Nails dug into your skin. It felt so good. Too good, your hand jerking his cock at a slow pace. brutal pace of your hips thrusting against his.
There was no relief, not a thought in his head. Only you, your cock molding his hole to fit it, marks that burned on his skin with shame and the way you kept him in place.
He couldn’t cum. He couldn’t keep up to you. You just took and took and all he could do was beg and give.
“Who do you like better now, boss?” You purred low and gravely into his ear pounding into his ass.
He could barely think about your question, fucked to incoherency. He winched and let out a whine when your hand pressed tighter around his cock at his non-response.
“Answer me, boss.” Your mouth teased his earlobe. Teeth scraping against it and the sensitive spot behind it. “Who do you like better? That bloodhound of yours? Or me?”
Ah. Is that why you were punishing him?
In the back of his mind, where he still had a bit of his sanity, he knew who you were talking about.
A new recruit who’d risen up the ranks fast. Bloodthirsty, ruthless and loyal, the perfect person to hold close and use.
Were you mad that people had been gossiping about him being better than you? That he had a new favorite?
He meant nothing to him. You were his everything. He was obsessed with you. Why else would he let you do this to him? Manhandle and use him like a cheap whore?
He reached up with a shaky hand to touch your cheek. You tilted your head and kissed his palm, obedient on the surface but your eyes on him were feral and dark.
“Y-y’u,” he slurred. He could barely function. His tongue heavy and eyes half lidded but the insistent heat in his stomach and your dumb thick cock refused to let him drift off. “Mmn… no’n… but y’u..”
Your lips curled into a smile that had more sharp teeth than anything. Your pace sped back up as heat builds up more nearing your climax. “That’s right. Only I can make you feel like this.”
As you thrusted in deeper and spilled into his ruined hole. He was beyond gone.
He couldn’t think anymore. Cock weakly twitching when he ejaculated again, watery cum forced out the angry tip. Barely a few drops, his cock was flushed a heated red and soft against his navel. His vision flickering to black again.
What more could he want with you here?
You were all he needed, and he was everything you needed. If making you jealous and possessive was what it took to make you admit it, he’d play dirty without a shred of guilt.
big bro fuckin’ baby bro’s tight cunt w his fingers for the first time, making the stupid virgin squirt all over his hand. (baby bro didn’t know he could do tht, so he gets drunk on the feeling). ♡
“make me do it again– please, it feels so good—feels like m’ pissing myself,” he sobs, legs shaking, cunt squeezing around his big bro’s thick fingers inside of him. he’s dizzy n hot all over, addicted to the new sensation.
big bro moans at his successful corruption, licking his lips as he begins thrusting his fingers in n out of his baby bro again, curling em so he can hit the trigger spot.
“good boy, baby, fuckin’ cum for me– gotta get you ready for the real thing,” he whispers, “my cock will feel so much better in yr cunt, promise.”
baby bro’s head is swimming. he can barely think straight. soon enough, he’s squirting hard again, screaming as he squeezes tightly around his big bro’s digits.
“First in your college again?” Your dad gave your stepbrother a pat on his back. A proud smile spread across his face as he carefully looked over the report card in his hands.
“That’s my boy.” Your father chuckled softly. “What do you want as a reward?”
Your stepbrother gave him that angelic smile of his. He was the picture perfect son. First rank in college, captain of the basketball team, and the campus heartthrob.
With his perfect features, toned body, charm and a balance of sports talent and academic brilliance, he was admired or envied by all. But it was undeniable how talented he was.
“Spring break is coming soon,” he said, his voice humble and polite. “I was thinking a short vacation at the beach would be a relaxing break.”
“Of course!” Your dad chuckled, clearly pleased, his chest puffed with pride. “You can take the beach house. And the boats too. Go out and have some fun.”
Your stepbrother flashed that charming smile, dimples deep and teeth pearly white. “Thanks, Dad!”
Compared to the enthusiasm your dad showed him, the reaction he gave you was much milder. His smile faded as he picked up your report card. A faint look of disappointment crossed his face when he saw your average grades.
He gave a sigh. In his mind, compared to your extraordinary older brother, you were a lost cause. It was obvious to see who would succeed the businesses he owned.
You honestly couldn’t care less what the old man thought.
Your stepbrother put on that sweet smile again and slung his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer against his chest. The scent of his expensive cologne surrounded you, subtle and refined with a faint hint of sandalwood. He stood more than a head taller than you, his frame solid from hours at the gym and on the court.
His firm chest pressed against your cheek as he leaned down to ruffle your hair. “Don’t be so harsh on [Name], Dad. I know they tried their best.”
The words were wrapped in sympathy and sugar, but the sting underneath was obvious. A gentle reminder of where you stood.
“I would be more than happy to let my little sibling join me for a relaxing spring break,” your stepbrother said in a friendly, welcoming tone. His hand slid from your hair to rest lightly at your waist. His eyes gleamed, something sharp flickering behind the warmth.
At the brotherly affection, your father nodded pleased. All he saw was an older brother caring for his younger sibling. Naturally, he wanted his children to care for one another, to stand side by side and support each other in the future.
You nearly scoffed, biting on your tongue to hold back a retort.
If only he knew what your dearest big brother truly wanted.
..
“God, you’re such a slut.” you drawled, your voice thick with boredom. You let out a slow sigh, keeping the disinterest clear in your expression even as warmth pooled in your stomach. “You really had to take up my entire spring break to be fucked?
Above you, your step brother sank back down on your cock. Each movement riding your cock accompanied by a moan and the lewd noise of squelching, lube dripping out his stretched hole like a woman's pussy.
“Ah! Ahh~ s’rry. M’ gonna m’k-! Ah fuckkkk that’s it!” He sobbed as he grinded down on your cock, giving up his sloppy riding to grind your thick cock into his prostrate. Mouth open obscenely spilling wanton moans and babbling.
His legs spread open, well muscular thighs used for running and sports now supporting him to keep him squatting on your cock. His heavy pecs were still covered in a lacy red bra pressing them together giving the illusion of cleavage.
Around his hips were a matching pair of panties, pushed to the side to ride your cock but still kept his well hung dick trapped in lace. The head of his massive cock, an angry red brushing against his faint happy trail on his muscular torso.
“Make it up to me?” You watched with disinterest, despite the way your cock twitched inside his silky warmth. “How?”
The question barely registered to him. Too far gone, his eyes hazy, a hand playing with his bra clad pec rubbing the inverted dusky nipples though the lace.
You let out an annoyed sigh and raise your hand and slap him. The hit snapped his head to the side, pink blossoming on his cheeks.
His eyes widened, momentarily stilling. A hand cradling his hit cheek. Before a moan slipped out his lips and he smiled at you. Eyes filled with lust and adoration.
“How are you going to make it up to me?” you asked again, letting your voice drag lazily edged with faint impatience.
“Anything you want!” He said earnestly grinding on your cock. His tight hole clenched tighter, slowly moving his hips up and down the shaft. A pleased smile tugged his lips, at the moan that unwillingly slipped from your lips.
“Fuck me, use me. I’ll give you anything you want! Anything!” His voice bordered on obsession. The pace he was moving at picked up again, his stamina excellent thanks to all the sports he did. His bra clad pecs bounce in rhythm. Your cock disappearing in and out inside his pink hole.
It was a hilarious contrast. Your picture perfect stepbrother was a masochistic slut for you. Despite all his accomplishments and achievements, he’d turn to you and beg to be fucked like a whore.
Your hands trailed up his thigh to his v line, the place he had your initials name craved now a healed silvery wound. His breath hitched at the touch, a whimper leaving his swollen lips, looking at you like a touch staved puppy.
You tightened your grip around his waist. And your thrusted up sharply into the wet heat.
“F-fuck! [Name]! Y-yesss-ahhh fuck me!” He moaned shamelessly. The pain of your hold and the feeling of your cock plowing into him mixing into heat.
He let you manhandle him anyway you wanted. Reverse your positions and hook his leg over your shoulder. All his flexibility was just a way for you to use him as you wanted.
Content to be used like whore. Your whore. He’d remind you over and over. Only yours.
When he came, it was untouched all over his abs and the red lace bra. A creamy coat that dripped down his tanned skin. You groaned, biting his neck as you filled him with warmth. His legs wrapped around you as if to keep it in him.
“Such a good brother,” your voice purred against his neck, hickey blossoming on his tanned skin alongside the bite mark, as you lazily fuck your come back into him. “I could fuck you everyday.”
He nodded rapidly like he was scared you wouldn’t see it. “Yes yes yes! Yours!” He tilted his jaw up, a watery sheen in his eyes as he begged with his eyes for a kiss.
You sighed, this time for real, your hands trailed over his toned thighs and rubbing where your name stained his skin.
You were well aware he was manipulating you. Under that picture-perfect charming prince he showed to everyone else was something darker. And he knew you saw it too.
That was probably what fueled his obsession at first. But it rapidly spiraled into something more. It started with small gifts, then more expensive things, weekend getaways, to long vacations wherever you wanted.
You learned soon your brother was willing to do anything you wanted. Give you anything you wanted. With his scores, sports and personality he could have anything he wanted but all he wanted was you.
You were the only person who saw him. Past all the perfection to the messy human parts and accepted them like it was nothing.
His obsession with you ran far deeper than just sex, that had been proved a long time again when he craved your name into his body and presented it to you like a sick claim.
You should have been horrified. But a part of you, the sadistic side hidden away perked up at the devotion. The utter obsession in his eyes, and the way he looked only incited your desire to conquer even further.
Your lips brush against his, nipping against the plump swell of them and biting down. Sucking the blood out from the wound as he squirmed under you needily with a low moan. Cock already perking up for another round.
“Another round?” You offered lazily. Rocking your hips into his heat.
“Yes!” His eyes widened excitedly and nodded. Spread out under you, ready for the taking you’d never seen anything more perfect.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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status: edited + not proofread (if it doesn't make sense uhhhh)
synopsis: having some fun in the basement.
word count: 2.8k
cw: dead dove: do not eat. porn with no plot, GN reader, AMAB char, dom!reader, sadistic reader, yandere reader, sub! char, non-consensual kidnapping, non-consensual bondage (tape bound), mind break, overstimulation, body betrayal, orgasm denial, handjob (char receiving), choking, forced submission.
note: just a reminder that the media you consume is your own responsibility! ♥︎
he doesn’t know how he got there. it’s all a blur, indistinct and fleeting. but you’re on top of him, leering at him.
sweat beads at his brow, dribbling down his temples and sliding along his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt and darkening the thin, already-filthy fabric. he thrashes beneath you, panic driving his body into desperate, animalistic spasms, but the layers of tape binding his limbs hold him mercilessly fast. His wrists are chafed, red and swollen, while his ankles burn from the relentless friction as he struggles. His legs kick out in wild, uncoordinated bursts, heels hammering the threadbare mattress with a dull, rhythmic thud that echoes sharply off the bare concrete walls of the basement. The old mattress sags beneath the combined weight of your bodies and the ferocity of his resistance, springs creaking and groaning in protest. he knows it is a useless effort, but instinct won’t let him stop, anything to get away. even if the restraints dig deeper, leaving his skin hot and raw, the friction burning against delicate flesh.
alas, each time he bucks, you press him down harder, pinning him by the shoulders or hips, letting him know resistance is pointless.
you drag your fingertips slowly along his jawline, savoring the subtle tremble that ripples through him as he flinches at your touch. his skin is clammy and tight, jaw clenched, eyes darting away from yours. anticipation coils in your gut—you’ve been waiting for this, for the moment his fear becomes palpable beneath your hands.
there’s nothing soft here, no comfort, no domesticity, just the cruelty of your grip and the knowledge that he’s not going anywhere.
you press your thumb hard beneath his chin, forcing his head up and making him hold still. you watch, fascinated, as panic drains the color from his face—his lashes trembling, breath catching in his throat, chest rising and falling in short, shallow bursts.
he tries to pull away, but you tighten your grip on his chin, fingers digging in with shattering force, forcing him to stare at you. you want him to look.
he doesn’t seem too fond of that. not that it matters.
his eyes are wide, glassy with fear, pupils blown and shining with unshed tears, and you can see the fight leaking out of him with every trembling breath.
his breaths are ragged, nostrils flaring, panic plain on his face as he realizes how utterly trapped he is.
his jaw shudders under your grasp, and his shoulders shake as he tries feebly to thrash away, neck muscles straining, hair sticking to his sweaty skin.
humiliation and fear distort his face, cheeks burning and blotchy. powerless, he flinches under your gaze, grip unyielding. that wasn’t really your intention but you welcome the addition.
you watch him, savoring the desperation in his gaze, the way his chest heaves as he chokes on a sob that never makes it past the gag, his ribs expanding in frantic, shallow breaths.
finally, you lean in, lips brushing his ear, letting your breath ghost against his skin just to watch him shudder, his body arching away and then back toward you as if it can’t decide whether to flee or beg for more.
the cords—tight and unyielding—bite into his flesh, leaving angry marks as he struggles, the skin around his wrists mottled red and swollen from his efforts. you like the way he jerks.
he doesn't have a choice either way.
you wrap your hand around his throat, fingers splaying wide as you squeeze, feeling the frantic thrum of his pulse beneath your palm. his airway narrows beneath your tightening grip, and he chokes on a desperate, wet gasp, eyes widening in panic as he struggles to draw breath. the vibration of his muffled moan is frantic, his body quaking—every muscle tensed and straining. you can feel his heartbeat drumming wildly against your fingers, the heat of his skin growing as his face flushes and his kicks grow weak, his consciousness flickering at the edge from lack of air.
you press your thumb firmly into the soft hollow beneath his jaw, ensuring he feels every ounce of your control—the extent of what you could do if you so wished.
you watch intently as his adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, the subtle jerking of his throat visible beneath the smooth skin as you press harder.
his hands are useless behind his back, fingers flexing, wrists aching from the relentless bonds, nails digging into his own palms. every movement is a reminder of his helplessness, his body trembling beneath you. he couldn't resist properly, claw you off or make any meaningful attempt to fight back against you. it’s all in vain.
you are comforted by that knowledge; you relish his helplessness, a bundle of nerves and shame, tears streaming down his face as panic sets in, as it becomes increasingly difficult to breathe. every ounce of his resistance is crumbling under the slightest pressure.
as soon as he accepted the inevitable defeat, a sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him. he had never imagined that someone could shake him to this extent, especially not you.
tears spill from his eyes—frustration, shame, and a desperate, humiliating need tangled together, each tear a silent admission of defeat.
his skin is slick with sweat, the salty tang heavy in the air, and his shudders only fuel your sadism, your arousal growing with every jerk and whimper.
you grind your hips into him, letting him feel exactly how much you’re enjoying this, his cheeks burning with shame, eyes clamped shut as if he can block out.
you finally loosen your grip, your fingers sliding away from his throat, leaving behind bright red imprints and faint crescents where your nails dug in. his skin is hot and mottled beneath your palm, the pulse beneath his jaw fluttering weakly as you let go. each breath he manages is a nasal ragged, desperate rasp, chest heaving as air floods his starving lungs.
he whimpers as blood rushes back to his head, the sudden rush making him dizzy and sick. his forehead thuds weakly against your shoulder, body wracked with tremors—tiny, involuntary shakes that run from his head to his toes.
pathetic how little it takes to break him, how quick he is to yield under your hands.
you don’t let him recuperate; rather, your hands wander downward. his thighs tremble and spread wide as every muscle tenses beneath your touch. your fingers skim over his cock with a quick tug of his drawers, met with little resistance considering.
he seems to have regained some clarity as he tries to clamp his thighs shut, to deny you access, but you force them apart, your palm pressing the insides of his knees down to keep him open, fingers digging into his flesh until the shapes of your hands are imprinted there.
he squirms, twisting his body and attempting to buck you off once more. each time you tighten your grip, he thrashes harder, trying to twist his hips away, arching his spine in a feeble attempt to break contact. you slap his thigh, leaving a red handprint, and force his legs apart again when he tries to close them.
your breath is hot against his neck, you trail your hand lower, dragging your fingertips over the curve of his ass, then between his legs, cupping his balls and rolling them in your palm.
you press the heel of your hand against the base of his cock, eliciting a strangled, desperate moan.
you alternate between gentle caresses and sharp, biting gestures, the pain and pleasure mingling until his body trembles uncontrollably, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.
it takes all his effort just to breathe, every inhale a shaky, ragged thing that barely fills his lungs. his chest rises and falls in desperate, shallow bursts—his lungs already taxed from the choking, each breath scraping at his raw throat and burning in his chest. his wrists burn where the tape bites in, every tiny movement making the ache sharper.
his cock is already hard, flushed dark at the tip, leaking onto his stomach. you let your fingers trail closer, not touching, just letting him feel the heat. his hips jerk, desperate for friction, but you pin him with a palm to his belly—a silent command to stay.
“don’t move,” you murmur, your breath brushing his ear. he whimpers, the sound muffled by the tape, and turns his face away. but you catch his jaw, thumb pressing into his cheek until he looks at you. then you tilt his head down, forcing his gaze to drop—his eyes dragged downwards to the sight of his own cock, flushed and leaking, your hand poised just above it. his eyes are huge, glassy, a storm of shame and need.
slowly you wrap your hand around him, thumb rubbing over the slick head. he sobs, hips stuttering, his whole body vibrating with tension. you can feel his pulse beating elsewhere—under your fingers, thready and wild.
you pause, squeezing just below the head, and watch as his thighs shake, the muscles in his stomach clenching. you don’t let him cum. not yet.
his eyes squeeze shut, tears tracking down his cheeks. you lean in, kissing them away, tasting salt and fear. “breathe,” you whisper, soft but unyielding. “you’re not done yet.”
he surrenders with a shudder, body limp except for the needy rut of his hips. you start again, slow and relentless, dragging him closer and closer to the edge. when you finally let him go, he breaks apart in your hand, sobbing out relief, shame, and something like gratitude.
every inch of him is alive with sensation, nerves raw and exposed, his body betraying him even as his eyes beg for release or reprieve.
for mercy he knows won't come.
you grip him firmer, feeling the twitch of every vein and the way his body tries to thrust, to fuck your fist without shame. when you squeeze his balls, you feel him tense, the ache so much it borders on pain, and you let your fingers roll them, tugging until he sobs into the gag. you press your thumb at the base, just behind his balls, and feel the answering spasm in his cock. your hand is slick with spit and precum, making each slide far louder than it ought to be.
the obscene, wet sound of your hand working him fills the air, every stroke louder, more vulgar, as your fist pumps his cock relentlessly and you squeeze just below the head to coax out another desperate spurt of precum that runs down over your knuckles and his trembling shaft. if that wasn’t indicative of his want then you don’t know what was.
you let your fingers trail beneath, to his perineum, pressing and circling, making him gasp and writhe, torn between humiliation and the animal urge to thrust helplessly into your grip.
the lines between pleasure and punishment blur as you work him over, his moans stifled by duct tape, his body trembling with sensation, thighs spread, cock aching and leaking onto his stomach.
you drive him past the brink, forcing him to the edge again and again, never letting him fall, never letting him rest.
tears stream down his cheeks, mixing with drool at the corners of his mouth, the duct tape gag pressing his lips flat and silencing every pitiful sound into a hum that only makes you smile. he’s cute like this.
his pleas are just lively background noise—music for your cruelty, every muffled cry and broken whimper.
every so often, you drag the tip of your tongue across his nipple, or bite down hard enough to make him jerk, rewarding each shudder with a firmer stroke between his thighs.
the basement walls echo with his muffled cries, the darkness swallowing every sound but leaving the tension thrumming between you.
the air is heavy—thick with sweat, salt, and the raw scent of fear and arousal.
he’s a trembling wreck beneath your hands, slick with sweat, every muscle locking and trembling as you deny him any escape.
your fist is merciless around his cock—stroking, squeezing, twisting—each motion designed to wring out a new level of desperation.
his cock is flushed, leaking, the head swollen and angry red, sensitivity wound so tight that every brush of your thumb makes him jerk and sob.
you toy with him, flicking the tip, dragging your nails down the shaft, alternating between feather-light strokes and cruel, punishing squeezes that leave him gasping.
it’s not enough.
you spit into your palm and stroke him harder, slicking his length until the sound is obscene—each wet slide making him shudder and writhe, thighs tensing beneath your grip.
you press the pad of your thumb into the slit, smearing precum down his shaft, then wrap your hand below the head and pump him with relentless, vulgar force.
his cock jerks, twitching helplessly, and you slap the tip with open palms, watching him thrash and sob, drool spilling from his gagged mouth.
his balls are drawn tight, aching, and you squeeze them in your palm, rolling them and tugging until his legs kick and his whole body arches in terror and pleasure.
you lean forward, biting down on his inner thigh, leaving a trail of teeth marks and spit, then mouth at the base of his cock, breathing hot against his skin.
when you pause, it’s only to let it sink in, to watch the broken plea in his eyes, to hear the way he whimpers and thrashes, begging for the agony to stop or for the release you refuse to grant.
he felt desperate. the moment you resume again, the persistent stimulation he had tried to shake off became apparent. as if his moans were a signal, the sensations awakening his body intensified, crawling through every corner. especially the wet sounds in his ears, which seemed to make his whole head damp, amplified all his sensations.
he can’t hold still—hips bucking, thighs quivering, calves seizing with cramps from being forced open for so long. he doesn't know how long he’s like that.
somewhere along the line, his consciousness felt like it was being sucked somewhere else, and he started to stare blankly at the ceiling, panting heavily.
it doesn't deter you.
he’s a mess of bruises and red marks, wrists chafed and swollen, thighs mottled with your handprints and fresh evidence of his struggles.
his mind cracks a little more each time you bring him to the edge and pull him back, the fight bleeding out of him, submission written in every shudder and sob. stop, stop, stop.
drool and tears mingle on his chin and throat, his mouth open behind the tape, breath coming in ragged, desperate pants.
he knew that crying would only provoke you, that you’d enjoy it rather, but his tears wouldn't stop easily. it was too much effort.
he looks utterly ruined, a plaything reduced to nothing but need and shame.
you watch him unravel, his body wracked with shudders, his soul splintering with every denial, every cruel promise that he’ll break for you and only you.
you savor the shame in his eyes, the way he can’t hide how much he hates loving this.
his cock twitches, leaking helplessly, his body betraying him with every humiliating spasm.
his thighs quake, calves cramped from being held apart, toes curling and flexing helplessly.
each time you pause right before he tips over, his chest heaves with silent screams, sweat slicking his skin, eyes wild and unfocused. he wished you’d just be done with it—stop this torment.
you whisper in his ear, mocking his weakness, reminding him he’s yours to break, you tell him he’s nothing but a toy for your pleasure, your words poisonous and sharp in his ear, and you mean it—he’s here for your entertainment, broken for your use.
your words sink in past the fog of overstimulation until all he can do is nod and tremble, the last threads of resistance snapping one by one. if it’ll make you stop he’ll agree.
as if.
who knows how long you work him like that. surely, you’re not keeping track, and he’s definitely not.
each time you bring him to the edge, you hold him there—his mind blanking, vision blurring, as the pleasure becomes an ache so sharp in his gut it’s indistinguishable from pain.
when you finally let him come, it’s not relief—it hurts.
an intense sensation erupting from deep within his gut, and he screamed, his legs convulsing. against his will, his orgasm tears through him, leaving him limp to fall back into your arms, body shaking uncontrollably as aftershocks wrack his nerves raw.
I love how you write for Azul! Wondering what he'd be like with reader squeezing his belly while they fuck him👀
tysm nonnie!! <33
ghehrkfjehje im literally so feral for pushing down on their stomach while ur fucking them so u can feel yourself moving inside and they can feel you even deeper hrrgshfnnnnhnnhyn *dies of horny*
dom!gn!reader, sub!azul ashengrotto, belly bulge
“H-haagh ffuck,” Azul swore as you hiked his legs higher up on your shoulders, going so deep inside of him that his head tilted back and he lost himself to the feeling, letting his eyelids flutter to reveal rolled-back eyes.
He let himself lie there limp like a doll as you continued to push into him, but you slowly stopped, pulling out until it was just the tip, and he whined, tightening his legs around you to try and make you keep going.
But your attention was diverted onto something else. You breached again without warning, fixing your gaze hungrily on his abdomen, and he flushed. “Whha- is something wrong?” Azul’s words were breathless as you continued the agonizingly slow pace of drawing out and fucking back in without warning.
“No, nothing’s wrong, in fact it’s perfect~” You crooned, bringing one of his hands to settle under yours on his tummy. He felt you push, hard, right as you thrusted back in, and his eyes went wide, breath leaving him all at once.
“Do you feel that, baby?” He did. He could feel the way you literally rearranged his fucking insides and pushed the outline of his stomach. Azul nodded, desperately, despite being normally refined and composed. Feeling how large you were compared to him had been the last straw, he lost any shred of decency for the sake of getting to be used by you.
You grinned, eyes flashing, and moved both your hands to his waist, pressing your thumbs onto his stomach, hard. Azul wailed as you started to fuck him using his abdomen to pull him back onto your cock, keeping a firm grip around his stomach like you were forcing him to tighten up to be a better sleeve. It drove him insane.
You forced him to move his hands down to feel every time you distended his stomach, and he whimpered every time he felt the bump rise under his hands. It felt surreal and strange to feel you fucking him from both the inside and out.
The combination of your relentless thrusts and pressure on his stomach made him cum without warning, his limbs seizing and vision going blaring white, before he slowly came back to reality to realize you were still fucking him.
He whined and squirmed around from sensitivity, nerves under his skin ablaze wherever you touched, which really wasn’t ideal considering you still had your fingers squeezing his tummy.
You cooed at him soothingly but didn’t bother to remove your hands. After he came, he had gotten even more loose and relaxed, and you had to keep your hands there to make sure that he was tight enough to be a good little sleeve for as long as it took.
TY ANONN <3 I’m going to assume you meant dom!reader here but please send in another ask if that’s not what you meant !!
dom!gn!reader, sub!riddle rosehearts, rough sex
“H-ah!! Please, please, ohmygod—” Riddle cut himself off with a barely-muffled scream as you fucked him into the mattress. “Do you want me to stop, baby? Is it too much?”
“N-nno—fuck, it’s so deep, s’good, harder please—” “You sure?” You were already gripping his hips so hard that it was going to leave bruises. Every time you slammed back into him, his ass bounced on the bed. “Yesyesyes please, I need it, want it harder, gnnh—” He wailed as you sped up, fucking into him so hard and fast that the sound of your skin slapping was the only thing heard above Riddle’s desperate sobs.
You grabbed onto his red hair and pulled, forcing him into your lap and making him take you even deeper. His eyes rolled back as his eyelids fluttered and his head fell back onto your shoulder, only able to make little fucked-out noises every time you pushed back in. He was so overwhelmed with how deep and fast you were going he couldn’t even make any other sound.
Riddle’s neck and chest were covered in bite marks and bruises.
He only went more stupid when you grabbed his throat as leverage for fucking him. His neck looked so much prettier with your hand wrapped around it, fingertips cruelly pressing into the bitemarks. Riddle tightened around you, hands going up to claw at his throat. And oh dear, that just wouldn’t do. He needs to learn to follow the rules.
He was clearly about to lose it completely, but that was too bad: you still had quite the long night ahead of you.
Oh my GODS I just read your riddle post and wowow! I’m not the original anon who requested but I was wondering if you’d do something similar for maybe Azul or Vil, whoever your heart calls for xx I think having Azul fuck himself with his tentacles or Vil crying his Make-up off would be hot and you write so well id love to see what you think!
HELP I HAVE SO MANY ASKS IN RN THAT I NEED TO ANSWER BUT BOTH OF THESE WERE SO HOT i was fr trying to come up with a way to get azul wrecked w tentacles but i didn’t even think of his own im- 🤚 ALSO VIL AUUFJFHMGJEFK$;&/&;& no thoughts just pretty princess pretty boy my love,,,,
tysm I’m so glad you like my writing!! :D
dom!gn!reader, sub!azul ashengrotto, tentacles
Making Azul Fuck Himself With His Tentacles
“Azuul~ I have an idea,” You cooed, mouthing at his neck and adding a little sharp teeth while your hands teasingly trailed down his chest. He would always fall for anything you asked if you pushed the right buttons.
He groaned from underneath you, pushing his neck farther into your space. “What, hah, what is it?” You uncapped the vial from your pocket you had purchased for this exact reason and poured it into your mouth before leaning down and letting it fall into his. You shoved your tongue into his mouth and let it explore the back of his throat to make sure it got into his system.
Eventually pulling back, you wiped your palm with the back of your hand and stepped off the bed, watching him with glinting eyes. “It’s a surprise~,” your tone made him shiver, “but I know you’ll love it, darling.”
“Wha—agh!” He cut himself off with a sharp gasp as long, sleek obsidian tentacles sprouted from his shoulders and pelvic area. Azul gasped and tried to hide his face, ashamed of his exposed half-human half-mer form, but you gently pried his hands off and gave him an adoring look. “None of that, baby, I want to see all of you.”
He whimpered, still embarrassed, but he didn’t have long to be thinking about it— the tentacles had begun to be curious. You stepped away once more, taking a seat across from the bed and watching the show with glinting eyes. The vial you had given him was full of a potion to momentarily take away some of his human form.
“W-where are you going?” He whined, trying to clamber after you. “Ah, ah, ah, darling. Tonight’s all about you. You have all those tentacles there—I’d like to see you do something with them, hm?”
Azul blushed but leaned back and slowly spread his legs. He shuddered as a tentacle moved to start stretching him out, the tip teasingly circling the rim and letting out an oily substance. It gradually squirmed its way in, shallowly fucking him.
He was flushing furiously, eyes downcast and off to the side, and you were having none of it.
“Azul.” Your sharp tone made him squeak and look up at you, realizing that he was closing his legs. He bit his lip in uncertainty but moved to let you get a wider view of the second tentacle making its way in.
As he got more lost in the rhythm of the tentacles fucking him deeper and deeper, he became less self-conscious. His knees pulled back closer to his shoulders and the tentacles there held them up.
Drool was starting to slip down his lips and the corners of his mouth as he sobbed and moaned unabashedly, hands desperately clinging onto the headboard as he rocked his hips back onto the tentacles.
His hole was frantically fluttering around the tendrils, dripping glimmering oils onto the sheets and spilling onto his inner thighs. Azul arched his back and his eyes rolled back as he came with a gasping sob when the tentacles mercilessly rammed into his prostate.
The tentacles gently retreated back into his body, leaving him exhausted and floating in a hazy afterglow. You got up and brushed his hair out of his teary face, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You did so well, Azul, you’re so gorgeous.”
“N-no, wait, wait, please, m’ still sensi—sensitive, I can’t—haaa!” Vil let out a sweet sob as you rocked your hips despite him cumming moments before. “I’m sorry, princess, you’re just too tempting to resist,” you groaned into his neck, biting down at his pulse when he raked his perfectly manicured nails down your back.
His legs tightened around your waist in desperation for something to ground him, but it only served to drive you deeper into him. Vil writhed and wailed so beautifully, his hair fanning out and framing his face on the pillow. You leaned back from attacking his neck to get a view of your gorgeous queen, and realized he had begun to cry.
His eyes and nose were puffy and red, and shiny eyes ran hot with tears that fell through his eyeliner and mascara, tracking dark lines down his face.
The sight was ethereal.
His lipstick was smudged from your rushed making out, and the ruffled hair combined with the ruined mascara and eyeliner only made you want to wreck him more, to see how beautiful you could get him to be when he was marked as yours.
Vil pouted and sniffled as you stopped to stare, oversensitivity momentarily forgotten. “I look like shit, don’t I?” he whined, turning his face away, but you quickly put an end to that. Grabbing his jaw, you turned him back to look you straight in the eyes, and he flushed when he saw the raw desire in your gaze. “Vil. You. Look. Breathtaking.” You punctuated each sentence with a harsh thrust, causing him to cry out and more tears to fall. Good.
Vil was going to have to prepare himself for a long night; you wanted, no, needed to know just how beautiful your darling could be like this.
I want to be able to watch as a priest slips between the states of resistance, confusion, and lust before he finally settles with acceptance—all while I'm fucking him, so slowly.
Resistance, because his teachings have convinced him all of this is wrong. Having sex with another man? Having sex with a demon? He might as well send himself straight to Hell at that very instance. He's frustrated, but maybe that's because he's not getting what he wants—anger directed at what's between his legs, fucking him so slowly he can barely enjoy it.
And yet, confusion, because he doesn't exactly see anything wrong with it. Yes, he's been taught to hate and avoid this scenario as much as possible, but he doesn't find anything actually objectionable to it. In fact, he might even like it. He doesn't feel heavily because he's having sex with another man, but because he knows others would not like it, because it goes against his vows. He probably likes it. In fact, he might want more.
Lust, because he's finally pushing away the guilt and association, and starting to crave the pleasure I'm giving him. He'd beg me to speed up, touch him somewhere else, because I've kept my hands to myself the entire time. I'll put my hands all over him, lick him, kiss him wherever he directs me, until he's completely putty in my hands and unintelligible as a result. He'll babble for more and spur me on to fuck him harder because he can't think of anything else.
I want to lead him further down until my dick is all he can think about.
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Anonymous: (brain fucking ahead) imagine laying your head down on someone's lap and they get a hard on. you can feel their bulge pressing against the side of your face, they shift uncomfortably so you try to sit up but they hold you in place. you realize they're actually grinding against the side of your head, and you wonder why they don't just ask to use your mouth. your question is answer when you feel their dick poke out of their underwear to prod directly against your ear. freaked out you try to sit up again and think you can before they slam you back down forcibly inserting their cock into your skull. stunned, its easy to keep fucking you like this. plunging in again and again that eventually they're deep enough that their tip just barely pokes out your other ear. when they cum some of it ends up sloshing around inside your well fucked brain but the last of it leaves their dick as its pushed all the way through, causing the cum to dribble out over your cheek and down onto your lips <3
Ooh, yes~
My head's right there, so I half-expected them to want my mouth anyway, but the ear is a new target for me. Of course, I'm not exactly sure about this, considering that the ear isn't designed to have things like the human dick inside, but my companion here clearly isn't giving me any choice in the matter. They don't even take their pants off all the way, desperate to get into such a tight hole, and it's easy for them to seal the deal by lodging their cock inside of my brain. I don't really have the ability to resist if my gray matter is being rearranged, after all.
It's a simple matter to use my head like a fleshlight. The act itself makes me stupider and stupider by the second as my brain learns to mold around the forceful intrusion, and I lose all will and ability to resist when the opposite ear canal is spread open and the head of their cock pokes out of the other side. With cock taking up all of the space in my skull, literally and figuratively, all I can do is moan in pleasure and reach down to masturbate as it forcefully severs all of the neural connections that once made me a self-aware and thinking human being. It's just so easy to fuck all sense out of someone whose brain is right at your fingertips.
I cum over and over again around the cock inside of me, but my cunt remains empty. It's all the work of the person fucking my pleasure center directly - or maybe not. They don't even know what part of the brain they're currently turning into mush, and it doesn't matter because it feels so good for them. Plus, it looks like it might have the bonus effect of turning me into a permanent, cock-obsessed toy without even the ability to think of anything except getting more and more dick into my skull. Perfect. Maybe they can rent me out to their friends who want a mindless fuck in the most literal sense.
It doesn't take them too long after that to cum, riding out their orgasm with quick thrusts right into my brain matter. Seed floods the crevices and holes inside, dousing what little humanity remains in hot cum, and I reach another explosive climax as excess fluid fills my cranial cavity. As my companion slows down, they slide my head up and down the length of their shaft to bring themselves back to earth, allowing their slick cock to again spear all the way through into my other ear canal. The last few spurts of their orgasm slide down my cheek and towards my lips, and I immediately lick it off, grateful for the opportunity to swallow cum.
I'm perfectly happy to remain right there, but my companion pulls out, much to my disappointment. Luckily for me, they have plenty of plans to keep me satisfied.
A hero group losing members one by one as they’re killed off by the villain. The main leader is the last one standing yet in their final battle, he is defeated by his arch nemesis. He’d expected to be killed, exhausted, he closes his eyes as the man in front of him begins to approach. The hero is shocked when his nemesis instead collars him and bridal carry him away.
As time passes, the story of the once mighty group is erased from history, and the final fate of their leader is undetermined.
In an unknown section of the villain’s castle, loud unrestrained moaning can be heard, coming from the lost hero’s mouth as he is bounced on his nemesis’ cock. The villain holds onto his lover, ensuring he’d never fall from his lap, as he repeats a conversation that has happened many times before.
“Who do you belong to my dear?”
“Ah!… y-you!”
“That’s right, you’re mine. Mine and mine only. No more fighting, yes?”
“N-No!—t-too dumb for that…”
“That’s right...”
He slams the now mindless hero down, both releasing at the same time. If the hero’s friends were still alive, they would have never recognize him. That was, if anyone still remembered him and the villain ever allows his beloved out, though.
Imagine dating a monster whose saliva acts a potent aphrodisiac. Cumming endlessly on their thick tongue as it rams your cunt and twists within your womb. The flood of slick pouring out of your cunt mixing deliciously with their saliva.
They can’t fit their cock inside you but they’ll be damned if they don’t stuff your womb.
The worse is the aftermath. Their aphrodisiac saliva now covers your cunt inside and out. Creating an itch of throbbing arousal that can’t be abated. Your monster boyfriend watches amusedly as you spend the rest of the day trying to be productive. Catching you rutting against pillows and table corner.
You beg for their tongue once more and it smiles. You will be stuck in this lewd cycle for as long as you’re addicted to its tongue.
pinned under gross older brother while he rams his cock into your boycunt again and again, huffing and drooling as he forces his way into your womb, grinding the tip against your cervix and forcing weird noises out of you. smearing precum deep in your hole, kissing the tight ring until he presses as far in as he can and your tummy is so stretched and he throbs and pulses wave after wave of cum, shooting them straight into your womb, groaning and crushing you under his weight while you cry and he tells you to shut up kid, you're ruining the moment with your stupid whining. filling you up until your tummy is heavy with icky cum and smacking your cunt affectionately as thick chunks dribble out, rubbing your raw sensitive dick until you shake and cum all over too.
18+ | content warnings… top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!character, two best friends have sex
twt link… moaning against your mouth because he forgot how to kiss.
it all started so innocently, just two “friends” cuddling together—what’s wrong with that? and now the room is too hot—should we take off our shirts?
the two of you were just laughing, making jokes like it was just another day, the kind of jokes that'd make anyone question your relationship. you pretended to ignore the sheen layer of sweat that glistened on his skin, the goosebumps that erupted when your fingers brushed his skin.
he pretended not to notice your nervous swallow when he rested his head on your chest, though he watched your adams apple bob his periphery.
then it was silent. the sheets ruffled as you adjusted, awkward huffs of air when the positioning still wasn't right.
“let me try…”
though you weren’t expecting him to roll on top of you and plant his palms on your chest with such a feverish expression. grinding his hips down, pulling a sharp gasp out of you, and he bit his lips to stop the whine he would've let out.
what a silly boy, thinking he’d be the one to control the pace—his arms were weak the second you slipped your cock past his puckering hole. you had no mercy, using your hands to keep him up, fingers twisting and tugging his sensitive nipples as you pleased.
your lips met, and for a moment, it was tame.
but he just couldn’t get enough, now messily lapping against your mouth, trying to savor every hushed sound of pleasure that escaped your throat as he sucked you back in with every roll of his hips.
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and inspired by said 'new' kink... m!Yandere moaning and whimpering like a slut while fucking you (gn, bottom!reader) short drabble
(not new but I only engage w it when I'm sad lol)
18+ MDNI
You'd always imagined you'd be the vocal one if something ever happened like this. That your sounds would overpower even the sound of skin slapping together in an otherwise quiet room. That you'd have to shove your face into a pillow, silence yourself a little just out of pure embarrassment.
But when he slides into you, and the whine slips from his throat as he hugs onto your waist with a desperate need, everything changes. Your name on his voice sounding like the dirtiest thing in the world in that moment, like you were all that he needed, more than water, life.
And he fucked you like it too, so desperate to be inside you that each stroke was long but fast, his cock sometimes nearly missing your hole as he pulled out and shoved back in, trying to get the best angle to press on the sweet spots inside you, babbling about how he always dreamed about this, about being inside you.
Your own brain feels all fuzzy as he mumbles every word straight in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress with clumsy strokes that somehow nailed every sweet spot you didn't know you had.
Whimpers and nips on your neck as he tells you he wants to fill you up, wants to make your stomach distend with the amount he fills you with, no matter how impossible it might seem. His dirty talk making him whimper even more, getting himself off as his cock twitches and jerks. As all of him spasms as he holds you in place to bruising.
And God, you can't hold back noises either, and yours just amplify his own, two mirrors looking back at each other as you both tear up and whine while fucking like rabbits.
He has to bite your shoulder and stilt his thrusts, his desperation to fuck you through his orgasm problematic. He might just pass out from overstimulating himself inside you, his goal of filling you, of claiming you as completely his addictive.
The idea of seeing the aftermath of it without passing out, even more so. As he tries his best to keep his eyes open as he looks up at you cumming on his cock, as his completely red face winces as you milk him. As his ears ring and he whimpers and drools and tries his best to function so he can press on your stomach and make you leak back onto him just so he can stuff you full again.
Thinking about nerdy yandere who is more than willing to help you study for your next exam. You invite him over since you think he’ll be easy to take advantage of. After all, his shy demeanor and nerdy interests don’t faze you at all.
What you don’t expect is how easily his patience snaps.
“Please, try to at least follow what I’m saying — are you even listening?”
Now he’s inside of you, trying to at least get you to do something right.
“That’s wrong,” he grunts, slowing his pace and abandoning your pussy as you whimper and tremble in need. “Come on, baby, just like I taught you.”
You grind yourself against him, mind foggy from how many times he’s denied your orgasm when you didn’t know the answer to his stupid questions.
As you stutter out the answer he’s waiting for, he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue into your throat and igniting a burning ache in your tummy, the pool of arousal beneath you only growing.
And without warning, you feel his throbbing dick pumping back into you, filling you up perfectly as he begins to mercilessly pound into you. His sweaty body slaps against your own, combined with his loud moans, filling the room with the lewdest and most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.
“Tell me what you need. Tell me you need me, that you won’t ever need another man because I can make you feel so good. Ugh, f-fuck!”
His voice cracks as his eyes roll back, forehead glistening with sweat. He feels your cunt clench around him as you come undone under him, body shivering, waiting for him to cum too.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeling his own orgasm approaching at the sight of you completely disheveled.
You’re already overstimulated by the time he thrusts deep inside of you for the last time.
You can’t think straight anymore, but he makes sure to push his thick, heavy load inside you. When he finally pulls out and you’re still dripping, he drops to his knees in front of you, licking and cleaning up the mess you two made. You gasp. Looking down, seeing him like this, gazing up at you with that hunger in his eyes, makes you mewl in feverish delight.
“Look at you… being so obedient after all. You liked that, hm?”
All you can do is lazily nod, earning a cocky grin.
“Next time I visit,” he breathes against your skin, “you better have all the answers ready — so I can make you feel even better, yeah?”
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