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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months

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Mother, I am hungry☹️ could you please give us a list of Kinks you think Konig would have to satisfy my hunger?🙏🏾

Hooooo boy!

CW: PURE FILTH below the cut, 18+ only. Light dom/sub, disciplinary/power play, exhibitionism, light bondage, domestic servitude, somnophilia, yandere!König killing someone who saw you naked, squirting, porn, M/F/F/F

Nature lover. The blowjob in the forest fantasy wasn't a lie! König thinks it would be romantic to make love to you in the middle of a dreamy glade, rut you against a sturdy tree, or have you take him in your mouth on some picturesque beach empty of other people.

He would also love to "warm himself" during a nice little wintertime walk, perhaps push you on your belly in the snow and tug your pants down just enough for him to slide inside your wet heat. The contrast between the frigid air and your warm, wet pussy drives him over the brink in mere minutes, and it's cute to watch you pout all the way back home – he knows his cum is spilling out of you, staining your underwear. He should give you a wash when you get back to turn that frown upside down ❤️

Powerplay. König loves to be in control. He would like to set a few rules for you and punish you when you "accidentally" break them. Those rules would be nonsensical and superficial – such as that you must greet him in nothing but your underwear when he comes home, ensure he always has clean clothes in the drawer, cook his favorite meal on Sundays, things like that. "You know what this means, Schatz," he mutters on your neck upon noticing you've broken his Sacred Rules, much to his delight – because the disciplinary action is that he's allowed to take you right then and there.

It's even better if you beg him not to punish you, explaining that you're tired or that you forgot. It's too bad, because only a safeword will save you. König is already getting his leaking cock out while you're on your knees, asking him to be merciful, just this once. "You know I have to do this… It's the only way you'll learn," he says before commanding you to either open that pretty mouth or turn around and bend over.

Squirting. He would be overjoyed if he got you to squirt. König has mainly watched amateur porn because regular porn is too emotionless and unnatural in his opinion. His preference is women doing solo – that's when he learned what squirting was and immediately vowed he would make his future wife squirt one day.

Exhibitionistic tendencies. This kind of ties in with the sex in nature fantasies: König would secretly love to get caught while having sex. He would particularly love it if the one catching you was a man, so that a "rivaling male" could see 1. how a woman is supposed to be fucked 2. how much you enjoy being fucked by him 3. what they can never have, i.e. gorgeous, whimpering, devastated you.

Yandere König would also kill the one who witnessed you two (and what's worse: witnessed you in a vulnerable, naked, quivering state), and I mean kill him right away, then come back to continue the session as if nothing happened 💀 In his mind, it's all very simple: he has to get rid of the one who laid eyes on you, then give you and himself an orgasm. In that order.

For him, there's nothing odd or wrong with striking a bloodied knife on your nightstand when he returns from his quest for blood. He'll insert his still hard cock inside you while speaking sweet nonsense in your ear, cooing how tight you are in a shaky, adrenaline-filled voice. You try to ignore the fact that he now has dried blood on his muscles, but it's no use. König reminds you of what he just did when your face distorts with tight pleasure. "No one is going to see you like this and live," his voice is almost a growl when you cum around that torturingly long cock.

Dominance and prisoner play. König would love to tie you up and use you as his personal fucktoy. And not just for one session… But for a solid, good 24 hours.

He wouldn't tie you too tight, just enough to prevent you from escaping the bed while he goes about his day, drinks a beer or two, comes to you every few hours to either make sweet, slow love to you… or fuck you with pent-up lust.

You being tied and helpless like that makes König attentive and tender one minute, and needy and greedy the next. You never know how it's going to be when he walks through that door, all you know is that he's going to pump you full of his cum.

He stays to watch it ooze out of you – it's actually one of the main events of this whole show because it means he'll have to fill you up again soon. He might also give himself a fap if you look too used and miserable or if you beg for mercy and whimper that you're sore. It's no problem: he's more than happy to cover your body with his seed. He's merciful like that.

When the day is done, you're a mess – inside and out – and he's fucked you stupid more times you can count, giving you so many orgasms that you feel soft in the head. What's fun though is that the man himself is in no better shape: you notice his legs are shaking when he finally comes to release you, looking like he has lost more than a few brain cells due to breaking the Guinness record of fucking you and himself senseless.

If you ever want to fulfill this fantasy, you will receive abundant aftercare. And I mean abundant. Bathing, cooing, pampering, treats, praise, and cuddles galore!

Mirrors. Fucking you in front of a mirror is like watching the best porn ever. Anything with a reflection will do, as long as König can watch you come undone, helpless and needy for his cock while he gets to display his strength. This man will probably install a mirror to your bedroom ceiling without asking your permission, but he prefers doing you from standing, prefers to do the lifting and the work.

Ballet dancer from behind and a stand & carry variation of Nelson are his favorite positions when using mirrors. All you have to do is enjoy... and obey when he tells you to watch what he's doing to you. "Look at that... You like being fucked like this?" he pants in your ear with strain and love while you both can see just how much you like it – his cock is practically glistening from how wet you are.

I'm sorry, were you busy? God forbid if you're wearing a dress or a skirt while making an important call. It doesn't matter if you're sitting: König will approach you, gets on his knees and then starts to kiss his way under your skirt.

Good luck trying to concentrate on that call when there's a horny giant forcing his head under your cute little dress. Soon he's sniffing at your cunt and tries to pull your underwear aside with his teeth. Try keeping your voice normal when he actually succeeds and you feel the first lick sweep over your pussy, flat tongued and hot.

You don't dare to fight him or tell him to stop in the middle of your serious, official and important call, which means you can feel the smiles on your poor wet heat. Of course König notices you're starting to sound like you're half crying... It only spurs him on!

You're a bit disoriented and don't register it at first that this hulking man is already climbing on top of you. It's rare for him to beg, but as he continues to dry hump you and then forces his cock between your thighs in search of your wet heat, you can hear him whisper: "Engel? Bitte... I have to put it in. Don't say no…"

Somnophilia kink. Yep, he has it, because the more helpless you are, the more "loving" he gets. König loves to watch you sleep, safe and secure there in his bed and in his arms. He caresses you like you're the Sleeping Beauty and if you happen to sleep naked (like he always does, this guy is a bit of a nudist at home), his fingers soon drift down to tease your clit, his hips start to slowly grind against your leg until you stir.

Gangbang fantasies where he's the one doing all the banging. One of his fantasies is to have multiple women all to himself. König would never seek to fulfill these fantasies in a committed relationship, but when he was lonely and only had his hand to keep him company, König used to dream he could have a row of women waiting for him when he returned from a mission 🙄

Usually three ladies who all want to worship and touch him and tell him how big he is, how heroic he is. He will command them to all fours, and they obey happily, ready and willing to be used. He does these ladies from behind, switching between them until everyone, including him, is on the brink of an orgasm. In these fantasies he always makes those women cum first. No one can say our King lacks manners! (How cute that he's so sure of himself... Would König even have the willpower to switch from one pussy to the next, not to talk of outlasting three women? I highly doubt that.)

Or how about these girls getting on their knees to suck his cock? In König's desperate, lonesome fantasies, these cute ladies love him so much that they start to fight over who gets to take him in their sweet wet mouth. They will eventually solve the fight by forming a queue – every woman gets half a minute with their King before changing. The long seconds when his cock is bouncing there in the cold air, devoid of a warm mouth, are torture. But he would stand strong!

Our brave soldier falls asleep while imagining how these purring, warm babes would cling to him for warmth and cuddles. Everyone is happy and pleased and he has been loved and worshiped thoroughly. In truth he just came in one minute, then tries to curl into a fetal position in a bed far too small for him. Cooling down from the day's highs, this Goliath is all alone, his last thought being that if he could get just one real woman to admire and love him and hug him before they go to sleep together, he would be the happiest man in the world.

#answered #könig headcanons #könig x you #könig smut #some fluff here too #könig imagine #forgive me father for i have sinned #this turned out so filthy #i have to burn this blog change my name and move out of the country

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calisources · 2 months

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𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences and quotes have been taken from different media about starcrossed lovers or forbidden love, full of angst, some bold words, some nasty ones, possessive nature and letting someone use you as a replacement. So, some toxic energy in this one. Change pronouns, locations and names as you see fit.

I love you,and I will love you until I die,and if there's a life after that,I'll love you then.

Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?

And there is a difference between having your heart break and having your soul shatter.

I'm falling in love with you.

I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. I have waited for this for such a long time. Consequences be damned.

These violent delights have violent ends.

I’m only human. And you are …all-consuming.

Don’t go into this lightly. If you’re mine, you need to understand I will burn the fucking world to the ground for you.

I will never let you go, do you hear me?

will keep you safe. And I will find a way for us to be together.

If you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.

If you were any less the man you are, I would beg you to take me with you.

If you were any less the woman you were, I would beg you to come with me.

I've known lust. This is something worse. This is a barbaric need to possess, to eliminate, to own. This is madness.

This is lust.

She’s your very own forbidden fruit.

You said you didn't want this.

We all desire what we cannot have.

Have you noticed how the boy looks at you?

Do you think I didn’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?

You are dangerous desire, and I am your prisoner.

We can’t do this on so many levels.

I can't even whisper her name, my heart would burst out of my chest.

But I would fight against the stars for you.

I have ruined your life.

Some lines you just don't cross.

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Having something forbidden is exciting, don't you agree?

The closer we get—the more I let you in…the more dangerous this gets.

Don’t you get it? You’re what everyone wants! But I’m not going to let them win.

Make it so I never have to dream about this again—make it so we can have this…forever.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

We were doomed from the start.

Nothing is as deadly as the love of a powerful man.

But this kiss? It's ruined me. This is the type of kiss I never knew existed.

You sure about that, Dad? Because he's done everything to me.

Are you scared of me now?

You loved me - then what right had you to leave me?

I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

One moment, you give me everything that I want, and in the next, you snatch all of that away.

It's hopeless. We can never work out.

The world didn’t want us together so I forged a new one where we would.

How could a peacock lust for a lion?

You're tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.

I’ve always liked you, from the first moment I saw you.

It's absurd how crazy love can make you...but even more absurd how stupid jealousy can make you.

That you and I are meant to be together, but never meant to be.

Why does fate seem always to conspire against us? To deny us life's simple pleasures?

We'll meet after this war. I'll certainly find you wherever you'll hide.

War makes fools of men and women wanton.

What offends you most, Father? That she's Catholic, or that she's poor?

If my father discovers you here, he'd cut off your little nuts and eat them. He can't stand you.

You tempress, I see you once and all I can think of is having you.

Feelings are forbidden, does not mean we cannot enjoy one another.

The more you deny me, the more I desire you. You are a plague in my mind.

Ever since we met, no one else can compare.

How can I be with someone else, when I’m with them, it’s you I see.

You can have me, think of whoever you love. For tonight.

You can pretend I'm her/him. I don't care. I just want you.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #forbidden love #starcrossed lovers

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ctrlchar · 3 months

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Johnnie Guilbert nsfw alphabet

not requested

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

he’s such a sweetheart when it comes to aftercare that sometimes he forgets to take care of himself. firm believer he keeps a bag of baby wipes near his bed which he’ll use to clean you up and he’ll make sure you know he loves and cares about you especially if he was being rough

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he really likes your tits and thighs,this isn’t anything sexual but he loves how comfortable it is to lay on them when you two are together

he doesn’t have a favorite body part on himself,more so a thing. that thing happens to be his tattoos. he’s very proud of how good they look and how many he has

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

he’s so messy when it comes to cum. he’ll do it in the spot that’s most convenient which if you don’t want him to cum inside you is gonna be your stomach

I also think he cums a lot

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he just wants a woman who can tell him what to do tbh,i don’t think he’s a complete sub but he definitely likes someone who will boss him around due to him being a little more introverted

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s hooked up with girls a few times but has only had sex with a few of those girls I think that he can definitely read you easily and tell what kinks you have within the second or third time you guys fuck

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

very simple when it comes to positions,he likes missionary because of his intimate it can be. he also likes to watch you face contort at each movement his hips make

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I don’t think so honestly,he usually gets too wrapped up in both you and his pleasure to even think about being funny

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I feel like he randomly shaves it for no reason but if it’s not completely shaved he won’t care too much

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

he shows his intimacy outside the bedroom rather then in,he prefers to show you how much he loves you (which sometimes will be sex) rather then telling you he loves you in the moment during sex

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

he jerks off about 3-4 times a week because he gets far too embarrassed to initiate any sort of sexual activity but this embarrassment fades the longer you two are together

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he is a masochist and i am willing to die on this hill

Johnnie had been between your thighs pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. your hands had been resting on top of his until the overstimulation started to kick in. your hands flew to his hair pulling on it softly as you moaned out his name not even noticing the way he would moan against your cunt with each tug of his hair

praise-he loves praising you as well we being praised. he also likes to apply ownership when he parises you meaning he’ll say “you’re doing so good for me” “you look so pretty on my cock” “don’t you love that i’m the only one who can fuck this pretty little cunt?”

impact play-i’m not sure if this is technically impact play but we’ll say it is. whenever he goes down on you he loves to slap your cunt if you disobey him. that’s honestly as far as he’ll go though,I can’t see him hitting you or anything like that

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

prefers a bed but he does enjoy fucking you in his gaming chair or maybe over his desk. did I mention his gaming chair? he would die if you rode him in his gaming chair

your hips had been grinding against Johnnie’s as he wrapped his arms around your waist while you rode him like your life depended on it. with his confidence growing,Johnnie moves his hands from your waist to your ass as he begins to move you the way he wants you to move on his cock

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

he adores seeing you in makeup,all he thinks about is how your mascara would run down your face as you give him head

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he wouldn’t do anything like role play,it’s just not something he seems interested in

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he looses all self respect the second you give him head,he’s more of a begger though and this also applies to giving you head he will beg and beg to eat you out and when he starts it’s almost impossible to get him to stop

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

definitely more slow but if he notices you want him do go faster then he happily will

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

not opposed to one but he’ll never ask you for one because he prefers to take his time with you,he does love how needy you become during quickies though

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

I think he would try anything about once but he makes sure the two of you talked about it before hand

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

maybe two? but he does last a while for the most part

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

he personally doesn’t use them and he wouldn’t mind if you used them but it might make him a little self conscious if you go to a toy rather then him

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he doesn’t tease you too much other then maybe a crude joke here and there but nothing physical

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he whimpers when he’s about to cum 100% but other then that he kinda just lets out shakey breaths/ groans or talks to you rather then moan but every now and then he’ll let out a couple moans

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

one time when he was giving you head he subconsciously started grinding into the bed but stopped himself before he came and he could’ve cried from him ruining his own orgasm

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

firm believer he has a skinny cock,not a small one but it’s skinny

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

for actual sex it’s pretty high now that he has a girlfriend,because now it’s just like the two of you can fuck whenever you want

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I don’t think he falls asleep after,he’ll usually do something on his phone or maybe watch a movie after he’s done taking care of you

#smut #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert smut #jake webber #jake webber smut #jake webber headcannons #jake webber imagine #johnnie guilber imagine #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert imagine

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roronoaswifey · 1 year

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𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘.

summary. luffy has an interesting way to show you the pirate empress meant nothing to him, despite your clear annoyance.

pairing. monkey d. luffy x f!reader

warnings/tags. unprotected sex, kinda drunk sex?? (not encouraging), penetration, oral (f), cunningulus, dry humping, overstimulation, past luffy and boa, kinda past grooming?? (again, not encouraging), spit as lube, handjobs, reader is kinda insecure but hides it behind a foul mouth, bestfriend-ish!zoro and he’s kinda a dumbass

wc. 5.7k

kazu’s note. no, i am not a luffy x boa shipper. leave me alone

you weren’t jealous. you couldn’t be. you had no right to be.

it’d been two years since you all last saw each other. you’ve all grown and matured into adults. maturity involved newly developed feelings— such as sexual needs. so it’s to no surprise that he of all people would also discover his libido and want to blow off that steam.

he did, after all, stay on an all-female island for years. naturally, that’d be any male’s ultimate fantasy. the women there must’ve been curious and excited for a young and fresh male to have arrived after so many years of being deprive of men.

and to top it all of, the ruler of that island was madly in love with him. it’s to no surprise she’d offer to be the outlet to his urges, and it’s no bigger surprise that he’d foolishly agree.

of course, of all fucking people, he had slept with the prettiest woman alive, boa hancock.

the very simple thought of boa getting to see luffy at his most vulnerable state, naked and willing, had you clutching at the gun in your hands tighter.

“fucking hell—” you cussed, switching the safety clip and pulling the trigger one, two, three times. the bullet landed neatly in the centre of the dart board, smoke following the release of the bullets.

luffy fucked her. luffy fucked her, not you. she had the pleasure of undressing him, had her lips on his, greedy hands all over his body, his dick plunged deep in her—

“godfuckingdamnit!” you groaned, pulling the trigger and hitting the same dartboard through the hole multiple times. you couldn’t help the anger bubbling in your blood.

you had no reason to be jealous. you weren’t his girlfriend, he wasn’t your boyfriend. the furthest you’ve gone was drunkenly kiss on the top of the sunny head figure under the stars. you once cherished the memory but you weren’t so sure if it meant anything at all anymore.

you were so lost in blasting the wall to bits (and you knew franky would have your head on a platter for the destruction) to notice the new and unwanted presence in the room.

“uh…” the swordsman trailed off, eyes shifting from you to your target, and back to you. he seemed almost regretful wanting to check up on the disruption.

you snapped your head to the side, annoyance clear on your expression as you scowled, “what?”

“you, um, good?” his question was ridiculous. everybody in the ship had their own methods to calm themselves down— sanji with his cigarettes, nami with isolation and zoro, himself, with training in the crow nest. your thing was to shoot walls, apparently.

you looked away from him, rolling your eyes and focusing back on your target ahead of you, “yeah.”

“okay…” he squinted his eyes in confusion, but chose not to press further. he knew better than to bother you when you were clearly not good, as last time it resulted with a bullet almost piercing through his skull.

he took a step back, ready to leave when you cut him off with a stiff, “wait.” he froze in spot, mentally cursing himself for even having bothered to show up. he did not want to deal with your mood swings.

“what is it?” he asked, much to his dismay.

“do you find boa pretty, zoro?” you squinted an eye, narrowing your field of vision as you pointed your glock once more forward. this time, however, you aimed at the dartboard pinned right above the previous one.

“uh…” he trailed off, brain trying to process the catch behind your question. as your best friend, he knew you’d most likely lash out at him for answering incorrectly and he really didn’t want to piss you off with a weapon at your disposal. “no?”

“are you gay or something?” you mumbled, digging into your pockets and reloading your clips.

“hah? all i said was no, how the hell did you—”

“who wouldn’t find the world’s prettiest woman alive pretty?” you sighed, your patience already running thin. you could tell he was lying to you, and wanted to please you with an answer that would free him away from you as soon as possible.

you quickly corrected yourself, “unless of course, you don’t swing that way.”

“i just said i’m not— fuck, okay, yeah she isn’t so bad on the eyes. there, happy?” he rolled his eye, hoping he’d be released now.

no, you were nowhere near happy.

“tch, of course you do,” you grumbled, gripping on the gun in your hands and proceeded to shoot at the dartboard once more. “of course you do, fucking dipshit.”

zoro gawked at the accusation, stunned at your sudden mood swing, “what— woman, you asked me a question?!”

“just go away before i blast your skull in,” you rolled your eyes, knowing you wouldn’t actually. you hoped it was enough to scare the boy, though.

“fucking gladly,” he left without hesitation. you sighed once the door closed, dropping the gun to the floor.

it wasn’t getting fun blowing the wall anymore. it wouldn’t change the fact that luffy had his hands all over her. it wouldn’t change the fact that no matter what, his virginity was lost to the pirate empress.

you’ve never had a problem with boa, and to some extent, you still don’t. although you’ve heard bad reviews on her attitude, it never really affected you in anyway since she was no important aspect in your life.

presumably it wasn’t her fault that luffy decided to sleep with her. and it wasn’t luffy’s fault either he wanted to sleep with her. you were simply insecure, and the idea that the only man that’s ever made you feel warmth in your chest and hasn’t taken advantage of you was busy pleasuring other women.

you crouched down, squatting as you placed your head in your hands, elbows resting at your knee caps. you needed to get a grip. you were overreacting, and the more the thoughts consumed you, the angrier you’d get.

his moans. his breaths. his whines. she got to hear all of it, she got to keep it a memory, gets to replay the memory over and over as she pleases.

did he… love her?

your fingers slipped onto your scalps as you tugged hard onto your hair, “fucking hell!”

•••

he was getting touchy again. the damn bastard.

you once loved his touchiness whenever he’d unintentionally get drunk. he’d always cling to you, arms around your waist, offering to dance, slipping a few kisses on your neck and always gave giggly laughs.

you loved having all of his attention, even if half the time you wouldn’t remember it all the next morning.

except now, you were in no mood to deal with it. you were tipsy enough as it was, and instead of being the usual, happy drunk you were, you were currently in a grumpy state, your hazy thoughts fucking with your mind as all you could remember was luffy having sex.

“y/n!” your captain whined, tugging onto your free arm as you chugged down the rest of your sake with the other. “let’s dance— wanna dance with you!”

“leave me alone, lu.” you were being childish, you knew. but in a sober state, you probably would’ve reacted differently. all self control you once had was immediately thrown away and you now would react simply as your mind wanted you to.

the strawhats seemingly noticed your odd behaviour, but chose to speak against it. you were clearly in a mood, and they wisely knew better than to provoke it.

zoro continued to drink his sake, nami and usopp pretended to engage in a conversation though clearly eavesdropping, sanji taking inhales of his cigs, chopper grinding on some herbs innocently, robin flipping pages through her book while sipping her wine, franky throwing random lyrics to brook’s out of tune violin melody.

“whyyy?” he complained further, now slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in his embrace. a pout fell on his lips, “we always dance together…”

“not in the mood, ask somebody else,” you deadpanned. the disappointment and hurt in his eyes made you feel shitty. you felt bad, but the powerful emotion that was jealousy quickly washed it away.

“no, y/n, i want you and only you, always!” luffy was stubborn, and had now switched the hurt look to a determined one. he was frowning, lip twitching in anticipation, daring you to oppose him.

the strawhats simultaneous paused their actions, all throwing a glance at you both, curiosity eating them alive. luffy was always known for being expressive, but did he understand the depth of his words?

you only scoffed, and regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, “is that why you went and fucked miss pirate empress?”

zoro spat out his drink. both nami and usopp gagged in shock. sanji inhaled too sharply and choked. chopper halted his movements. robin stopped midway through flipping her page. brook hit an ear-scratching tune and franky stumbled on his legs.

luffy only blinked at you. it seemed he was out of words, for once. good, you rolled your eyes, gulping down the rest of your booze and slamming the cup on the dining table.

“y/n, i—”

“i’m going to bed. night, guys,” you waved off into complete silence, dragging your seat behind you and standing up. luffy’s limp arms left your body, and you suddenly found yourself wishing they were around you a little longer.

whatever. your mind was buzzing and you felt lighter than usual. you probably shouldn’t have drank that much and quickly in such a short time.

slipping out of the kitchen, you sighed deeply, suddenly feeling a rush of blood flowing through your head. you leaned against the wall momentarily, attempting to catch yourself, before the door swung open and revealed none other than the one person you weren’t in the mood to see.

you visibly scowled, “no,” you lifted yourself off of the wall, ready to walk in the opposite direction— anywhere away from this conversation. it’s too bad his abilities interrupted your attempts, arm stretching to grab ahold of your wrist and holding you in place.

“y/n, what did you mean back there?” his eyes zeroed in on you, his usual childish glint now replaced with an unusual seriousness.

“exactly what i said, now let go.” you rolled your eyes, attempting to pry his grip off of you. your efforts were deemed fruitless, as it did nothing to remove him. you only kissed your teeth in agitation.

“leave me alone, luffy!”

“why’d you bring hancock into this?” he ignored your complaints, posing questions of his own. his grip slightly tightened, eyes slightly narrowing, “answer me, y/n.”

you didn’t want to. if you did, you fear you’d spill everything and make matters worse. you weren’t ready to confess to him just yet how terribly annoyed and jealous you felt at the thought of him sleeping with her. it was such a childish feeling, and as much as you hated it, you seriously couldn’t help but feel it.

“none of your damn business,” luffy might be stubborn, but so were you. you glared start him with as much intensity as he gave back, not letting up your front. “now fuck off, would ya?”

“you’re jealous.” the rubber boy simply stated. not even a question, no shred of doubt in his conclusion. he just up and did it, verbally accused you of a feeling you’d fought to hold back for weeks.

opting to result to your only defence mechanism and lie, your left eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “how conceited of you, captain.” you didn’t miss the way his body jerked at the title, though you were confused as to why.

he stared at you with an unreadable expression, dark obsidians scanning your face whole. you almost felt like cowering at the glare, though you held your ground. you were not gonna let him win.

after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, luffy finally spoke with clarity, “come with me, i got something to show you.”

your brows pinched in confusion, ready to object against his decision before warm hands were placed on your bare waist, pulling you off your feet and throwing you over his shoulder. it was all too quick, and your vision blurred slightly from the sudden switch of positions.

“wait— luffy! fucking let me go!” you complained using your arms to pry yourself off of him.

the raven haired pirate ignored you, proceeding to drag you around with ease. you hated how weak you felt, though deep down you couldn’t suppress the tingle of excitement sitting in your gut. you weren’t exactly sure what his plans were with you, but you were hoping it’d lead to him destroying your insides.

sooner or later, you ended up on the guest room’s bed, no thanks to luffy’s manhandling. you were ready to pull yourself up and cuss your captain out, until you found your hands pinned at the top of your head and a frowning luffy inches away from your face.

your eyes widened, in surprise at the sudden closeness. his wide eyes eyed you with so much intensity, you weren’t sure what the boy had going on in the back of his mind. your throat suddenly clogged, mouth dry as the words died at the back of your tongue.

you felt so open. legs spread with the boy placed between them, arms locked in therefore unable to do anything but submit to whatever luffy wanted from you. his breath fanned over your lips, and you were suddenly painfully aware of the warmth radiating from his pink lips.

you wanted to kiss him again, you gulped.

“she doesn’t mean anything to me.” he spoke the words with such clarity, no space for insincerity anywhere. luffy was no liar, he might’ve been the most honest man you knew, and for that sole reason you didn’t realize how desperate you were to hear that.

“what tells you i give a fuck?” you tried barking back, hating how he could read you so well. your face twisted into a frown when all he did was stare deep your eyes, subconsciously pressing himself deeper into you.

your pupils blown wide, your heartbeat raced quickly and butterflies roamed wildly in your stomach at the hard-on pressing against your heat. your teeth tugged at your bottom lip harshly, doing the best in your abilities to hold back to moan that threatened to release.

“do you feel that?” he mumbled lowly, leaning further into your space, this time adding more pressure into his thrust. you jerked up from the impact, and a whine unwillingly left your lips. he tightened his hold on your hands.

luffy gave you a feral grin, hips now profoundly bumping into yours, rubbing into your pelvic area, “it’s always been you, silly, don’t you know this?”

“not when you’re going around and fucking other girls,” you spat through gritted teeth, the slightest twinge of jealousy still lingering in your blood.

what should’ve annoyed luffy only made him chuckle darkly, releasing a hand from yours and lowering it down to your thigh. he picked it up, throwing it over his hips, the switch of position now deepening his humps. he continued to rub himself into you, eyes focused on the way you so desperately tried to hold yourself back.

“she doesn’t mean anything to me,” he repeated himself once more, tongue darting out of his parted lips and moistening them. a smirk returned to his mouth when a particular thrust against your clothed clit made you moan. “nothing, y/n.”

heat licked at your spine, stomach churning and yearning for more. the grip on your thigh was sickening— he purposely shifted your hips to angle you at a position that would drive you insane. his bulge repeatedly toyed at your clothed clit, and your mind fell to mush.

“say it, y/n,” he leaned closer, mouth now pressed on yours. you inhaled his breath, and it left your head dizzy. he worded his next sentence onto your glossed lips, “say it.”

what did he want you to say exactly? there were so many possibilities and to a majority of them, you’d rather bite your own tongue off than comply. did he want you to admit you had feelings for him? did he want you to beg him to fuck you? did he want you truly speak your mind?

it seems his patience was running thin, as a sudden hard bite to your lower lip pulled you out of your trance. the pain of his teeth plunging into your flesh turned you on more than you’d like to admit.

“don’t make me repeat myself.” he spoke darkly, only releasing your lip at the end of his command. he had an expectant look on his face, his eyes glossed with a look you’d never seen before.

you inhaled sharply, taking your best shot. you had tossed every shred of dignity and pride left in you, and since he probably wanted to hear, “fuck me, luffy.”

to your shock, your captain smiled at you. you frowned, confused at his sudden switch of moods, nearly blinded by the pearly whites he flashed, “not what i wanted to hear, though i was planning to already.”

you felt your face heat up in utter embarrassment. stupid bastard, what else did he want you to say? and what the hell did he mean he was planning to already? you weren’t opposing to the idea, but the nerve he had—

“fuck off, lu,” you rolled your eyes, shifting your gaze away from the man above you, too painfully humiliated to actually face him.

though, your actions were yet again fruitless as the hand that held your thigh now cupped your jaw, index finger beneath your chin and forced you to keep your eyes on him. his smile was replaced by his previous serious one, bug eyes staring deep into you.

“try again, y/n,” and before you could complain, for what felt like the nth time tonight, your words were cut off before given an opportunity to speak.

luffy pressed a deep kiss into your mouth, eyelids falling shut momentarily, inhaling your taste. you eagerly kissed him back, your free hand moving straight to his hair, tugging at the wild locks. he hummed appreciatively, nipping and nibbling at the plushness of your lips.

you’d only began engaging into the kiss, soft lips rubbing on yours so intoxicatingly, that you uncharacteristically whined when the boy pulled away.

he panted heavily, a cocky smile etched on his face. he was starting to piss you off now with his teasing, and his damned, “try again.”

“god— fine, fuck!” you complained, and gave it another try. you huffed, still in disbelief at the idea of it but decided to go with it anyway. “she doesn’t mean anything…to you.”

“well there we go,” he nuzzled his nose into yours, and you felt your chest flutter with warmth at the endearing action. “wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“you gonna fuck me or not?” your patience was at its limit. you wanted him and quickly, and wiggled your hips into his warningly, “or do i need to finish this off myself?

“no need, i’m here for ya!” he pulled himself up and flashed his signature smile, followed by his paired laugh. you wondered where he was going off to, but your question was soon enough answered by the harsh tug on your shorts, now discarded elsewhere onto the floor. you simultaneously removed your top.

he crawled onto his stomach, forcefully spreading your legs and now revealing your soaked panties. your bit your lip, eyes casted elsewhere as you tried your best to push your embarrassment aside. you were horny, and if the damp spot on your panties didn’t say otherwise, you don’t know what else could’ve given it away.

“all this for me?” he mumbled, stuck in a trance, and you weren’t even sure if he was speaking to you or himself.

still, it was embarrassing so with an attempt to close your thighs together that luffy stopped with ease, you kissed your teeth, “stop staring and do something already!”

“you smell so good,” he dragged an index finger up and down your clothed pussy, revelling in the way you threw your head back and whined so prettily. he couldn’t wait to wreck you.

“more, luffy…” you breathed out, and before you could beg some more, the boy tugged off your panties off, discarding them once more somewhere on the floor, and dove deep into your legs.

a loud moan was ripped out of your chest, hands gripping the sheets tightly as your captain made a mess of you.

legs hiked over his broad shoulders, his fingers gripped your plushy thighs, his tongue working wonders. he dragged the muscle up and down, left and right, rotating in circles and occasionally pushing past your walls and into you. the tip of his nose bumped against your clit so precisely, that the added stimulation had you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

luffy moaned shamelessly into your cunt, sloppily feasting on you as if it were his last meal. the vibrations of his voice sent pleasant shivers all across your limbs. your thighs began dripping with a mixture of your slick and his saliva, the result clear and smudged all over his mouth.

when luffy released your lips with a pop, you were forced to look down at the loss of attention on your aching pussy. though while looking down, you were met with an unimpressed frown.

“remove your hand, i wanna hear you.” he spoke sternly.

“but everyone’s still up—hnng, fuck!” a broken moan cut off your words, eyes rolling to the back of your head. pleasure buzzed all throughout your body at the spank luffy delivered onto your wet cunt, hips jerking upwards involuntarily.

“i said, remove your hand.” he warned you and wasted no time to dive back into your pussy. you decided to comply to his order, instead opting to hold back as much as you can on your moans.

it’s too bad he decided to switch the rhythm and plunge two fingers deep into your soppy cunt, lips now wrapped over your clit, sucking on it like candy.

“oh yes, fuck, yes luffy!” all hopes of remaining quiet gone. luffy fucked into you relentlessly. fingers precise, he curled, jackhammered, scissored your walls just right with the added stimulation of his tongue lapping over your clit with kitten licks.

your hands flew onto his scalp, tugging at the raven locks tightly, causing the boy below to moan shamelessly into you.

your body felt liquified as his fingering soon brought you to what you knew would be an orgasm. your toes curled, thighs squeezing around his head, nearly suffocating him though he didn’t mind.

“lu—luffy, oh god, ‘m so close, please!” you pleaded, desperate for the overpowering feeling of the tightening in your gut to release. you wanted to cum so badly, and because your captain was such a nice one, he switched the angle of his fingers, directly hitting your sweet spot, sending you over the edge.

“yesyesyes— fuck!” you squealed, legs shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm. back arching, you pushed him deeper into your cunt as you sprayed him with squirt, heels digging into his shoulder blades.

luffy greedily accepted everything you gave him, slurping on your fluids and moaning at the sweet taste of you. his tongue lapped at your juices, fingers never ceasing their movements, making sure you’d enjoy your orgasm the longest you could.

your vision blurred for a moment, eyes rolled back as your mind consumed the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. you’d never cum this— much less ever squirted, and the way luffy licked you clean even after your mess soon had you whining from the painful pleasure.

“too much, lu!” you complained, fingers most likely painfully pulling at his hair. the pleasure was getting too overbearing, and you’d freshly came and weren’t sure if you could take another right away.

“c’mon y/n, gimme another one,” he popped your clit out of his mouth, though his fingers never let up. he smirked at your trembling figure, his thumb now rubbing harshly over where his lips were once placed. “i know you can.”

you weren’t sure you could, but you didn’t want to disappoint him. the constant thrusts of his fingers at your sweet spot, the attention focused on your clit, your recent orgasm still lingering, the damn smirk he gave you— you soon felt the familiar pressure in your gut building.

“i—i’m, gonna, hnng, cummin’!” your words were slurred, not even certain if they were making sense, too focused on the way luffy stretched his fingers even further into your, fingertips dancing at your cervix.

“attagirl,” luffy grinned, reattaching his lips at your clit, eagerly awaiting for your juices.

his tongue moved at an unforgiving pace, vibrating rapidly while simultaneously hitting you dead-on deep in your cervix, and you swore you blacked out when you yet again emptied yourself onto him.

a much louder, wantonly moan ripped at your throat, tears staining your cheeks and drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. this time around, your entire body trembled in overstimulation, welcoming another orgasm, splurts of squirt decorating luffy’s swollen lips.

“mhm,” his pink tongue licked long stripes of your juices, licking you clean. you were too far gone to care about the prideful smirk on his face, attempting to ground yourself from this mind-blowing orgasm.

a few minutes later, you slowly managed to bring yourself back from your high, body melting into the mattress. you had no strength to pull yourself up and see what your captain was up to. though as soon as your vision focused, you were face to face with a boastful luffy.

hovering you once more, his hand rested at your jaw gently, thumb thumbing at your lip, loosely pulling your chin downward and parting your lips. you had no time to question his actions, your thoughts answered as he shoved his tongue deep into your mouth, licking into the roof of your cave.

you let your eyes fall shut, still too weak to properly kiss him back. he kissed you sloppily, tongue sloshing with yours eagerly, forcing your taste back onto your tastebuds. he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, his tongue assuring to taste every inch of your mouth.

you were running short on breath, but you found yourself not minding if you went out like this. and so, a weak hand clutched onto his top, attempting to match his pace.

“gonna fuck you now,” he pulled away slightly, a string of both your salivas connecting at the tip of your tongues. “okay?”

you nodded wordlessly, arms wrapping around his neck as further approval. he grinned, tongue lapping at the trail of saliva that drooled down your chin, before placing a soft kiss at your reddened lips.

in swift movements, his pants and briefs were off, dick lubricated with his spit and precum, as he pumped his already hardened shaft a few times. you watched through lidded eyes his face contorted into a look of relief, a soft sigh escaping his lips. you wanted to give him that reaction.

and so, you lowered your own hand, grazing past your soaping pussy to gather a significant amount of slick left. shivering at the sensitivity, you leaned your hand closer to his own shaft and pumped his dick alongside with him, and nothing would prepare you for the whine he let out.

“mmh, fuck y/n, feels’good” he panted, bottom lip tugged behind a row of teeth. you tugged and tugged, rotating your wrists in circular motions, and eventually the boy let go of his own cock in favour of your hands. whenever you made it to his throbbing tip, your thumb would pay extra attention at his slit, attempting to multitask the same way he’d done prior to you.

“n-no more,” he groaned, hand firmly placed over yours and ripping it off. you frowned in discontent as the raven haired breathed hard, catching his breath.

his cheeks were flushed red, neck also tainted as he offered you a sheepish grin, “wanna cum inside your pussy. can i, y/n?” he leaned forward, pinning his hands at the side of your head for support.

you breathed out, “‘course you can, captain.” the title rolled of your tongue so naturally, you almost missed the feral glint in his eye. truly, you should’ve expected he’d react the way he did, but it still caught you entirely off guard.

one minute you’re laid down on your back, the next, your knees are folded at the side of your head, hips lifted off of the mattress, and luffy ruthlessly pounding into you.

you were already well spent from your two previous orgasms, but his fingers didn’t do his cock justice. he stretched you out so well, the tip of his cock slipping with ease into your cunt, the base of his shaft meeting your lips before quickly pulling out and reentering.

luffy was fucking you brutally. his hips were relentless— he rutted into you like it was the last thing he could do, the angle of his cock repeatedly hitting your clenching walls. he left you no time to breathe, thrusting into you so hard that your body bounced off his cock and into the headboard.

if it wasn’t for the way squeezed your eyes shut at the blissful sensation, you’d see the way your captain watched you with such want—such need that could only be expressed through his actions.

the point of contact of your bodies left sinful noises of squelches, slaps and the headboard banging on the wall. your moans overlapped one another, your voice far too broken to be heard as much as luffy’s whiny moans and praises,

“fuck, oh fuck y/n, you feel s’good!” he cried out at your gummy walls sucking him in. your cunt gripped greedily at his cock, wanting all he could give you. “pretty fucking pussy— gonna fuck you like this all the time, yeah?”

“yes, please captain!” you egged him on further, and when he released the beastly like growl, you knew you were done for. still, you were ready for whatever he had to throw at you, “harder, captain!”

and if he wasn’t fucking your brains out then, he surely was now.

a switch of angles was all it took for both him and you to feel your orgasms closing in. sweaty chests pressed against one another, your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, you sobbed and cried as you were yet again feeling the want to cum.

his stamina was insane. how he kept such a quick and hard pace and never lost tempo was beyond words. where had he learned all of this? who had taught him all of this?

you were met with a quick flash of annoyance at the thought of your previous emotions of jealousy, though it all ended the second luffy’s lips messily found yours. you were engulfed by the flavour of both him and you, the warmth of his lips and the taste of him taking over any prior thought you had.

“cummin— fuck, wanna cum inside you so bad!” luffy begged through your kiss, stealing your breath away. hips still jackhammering into your puffy pussy, he continued, “please lemme cum inside!”

“give it all t’me, lu!” you moaned, fingernails clawing at his skin. your own back arched, feeling the third orgasm of the night rolling out of you, a silent scream following your spasm. the force of clenching down on him midst orgasm drove him to his own, moaning like a pornstar into your mouth, loads of semen painting your insides white.

you both rode your orgasms out, his hips now stuttering while unintentionally overstimulating himself. you couldn’t take anymore, and so you whined and begged him to stop, and eventually came down to a halt.

the sex-scented air blended in with your pants, the both of you catching your breaths. there was a lot to unpack and you had no energy nor time to care as of the moment. you were fucked out, face a mess, body still trembling, and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.

reluctant on staying inside you, luffy laid himself flat on your chest, nuzzling in the crevice of your breast. you brought a hand to lazily scrape at his scalp, the boy humming in content at the petting. you had finally slept with luffy, and damn were you impressed. it almost made you forget what led up to this situation— key word: almost.

as if he could read your mind, “i never actually fucked her, y’know.”

you did not know.

blinking, your hands paused their movements, ignoring the way he whined in protest. you leaned your head forward while frowning, wanting to meet his gaze and demand answers.

“the fuck? what do you mean?”

“what do you mean ‘what do i mean’?”

“luffy,” you deadpanned. “zoro literally told everyone you had sex with boa hancock during our two year interval.”

“zoro’s a dumbass,” luffy giggled, fingers absentmindedly tracing your soft skin. “while we did give each other head, i never actually fucked her. i was waiting for you.”

you gasped in surprise at his revelation. he was waiting on you? so that meant that these past weeks you’d been mourning at the idea of them potentially sleeping together pointlessly?

wait—

“i took your virginity?” you voiced out loud, still in complete shock. what the actual fuck.

“yup,” he shrugged, as if it weren’t a huge deal. he yawned tiredly, before flashing a smile, “felt really good. ‘m glad it was you.“

you felt stupid butterflies stomping in your stomach at his honesty. as much as you tried to suppress it, a smile overtook what was meant to be a scowl on your face.

“yeah, luffy, me too.”

ok but she still saw ur dick buddy 🙄

#roronoaswifey.exe #kazuha’s works 📂#luffy smut #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #one piece smut #one piece #one piece men #one piece fanfiction #smut #x reader

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queenie-avenue · 5 months

Text

Terms and Conditions Apply.

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, ADRIAN HOUDE

—> you're the sweet little intern, and he's the big bad wolf who wants to eat you up.

⤻ reader is written as a female, yandere male, age gap, power dynamic, toxic obsession, slightly suggestive, slight financial abuse, set in london, this is a drabble but full fics of him will be made in the future

🦋 ⤻ archives.

TOP TEN BACHELORS NEAR YOU!

1. Adrian Houde.

Tall, Handsome, Rich, Successful, Ambitious. Ask anyone with more than half a braincell and they will immediately tell you that all these traits are what Adrian Houde has! Born from the rich Houde Family known for their luxury fashion products, he had risen the ranks as CEO of his family's company a few years back.

And boy oh boy, has he made himself known. From various (fake) scandals of him dating various women, to his success in the market in revolutionising his family's industry in fast fashion but still remaining loyal to his grandmother's routes as a custom tailor who first gained traction in France.

Perhaps Mister Houde's only flaw is that he has been on this bachelor list for far too long! He's already in his mid-30s, can you believe this guy has been single for so long?

So, to the lady who catches his eye, good luck surviving all the jealous women who are going to come after you, sweetheart!

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Adrian Houde is a proud man. I mean, who wouldn't be, right? He was successful, and rich, and practically everyone — regardless of gender or age — wanted to be with him or be like him. He was the pinnacle of a great man, just like his father had said he would be.

So why was it that when you entered the office, looking like a lost little puppy dog, that you captured his interest immediately. Perhaps it was the coffee stains on your skirt and the way your eyes sparkled with desire for greatness. He had seen that spark many times before. In his own eyes, actually. From the moment he saw himself in the mirror as a teen who became aware of the legacy on his shoulders, he knew he was bound for greatness. And you, a simple woman, of all people, carried that same determination and ambition within those cute eyes of yours.

You couldn't blame him for being intrigued by you.

Especially when you looked at him with so much fear in your eyes he couldn't help but laugh.

"I am so sorry, sir- I had no idea anyone was in the meeting room this early." You apologised frantically, holding a bunch of papers and a small, slightly shabby notebook.

"No, no." Adrian voice was smooth and sweet, a mixture of his French accent and his London boy accent he had gotten from the years of being raised in London. "Don't apologise. I was a bit too early to the meeting room, it seems." He said, taking his hands out of the pockets of his suits, raising out his hand towards you.

"Adrian Houde." He introduced out of courtesy.

Hurriedly, you rushed to take his hand, firmly shaking it like you had been taught.

You touch sent shivers down his spine. Was it because your hands were cold or was it something else about you?

Either way, he liked it.

"[y/n] [l/n], sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." You smiled at him, that glow from your eyes never fading.

"[y/n] [l/n]," he repeated, allowing the syllables to roll down his tongue like something falling down the stairs, bouncing. "A pretty name, for a pretty girl." He chuckled cooly as he pulled his hand away.

"I've never seen you before, Miss [y/n]. Are you new?" He inquired.

"Ah, I'm an intern. I just- uh, got posted here recently." You smiled. "I'm a fashion design major."

He couldn't help but be a bit disappointed by that. You were a fashion design major, which meant that you and him would probably not see each other often unless he kept paying visits to the fashion department.

"Wonderful. It's nice to see such wonderful young minds in my company." The older man said as he adjusted the cuffs of his suit with a relaxed grin. "I just know you'll do great in this company."

That blush on your cheeks after he complimented you drove him crazy.

That was how your first meeting concluded.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You were so intriguing that Adrian just couldn't keep his mind off you. The moment he returned to his office, he called up his secretary and immediately requested for your file.

When he got it, he couldn't help but obsess over it. Your portfolio was so perfect. From all your university extracurriculars to all your little quirks that the intreviewers had noted down, they were all there for him to overanalyse and understand. Your designs, he had to say, surpassed his grandmother's when she first started out the business.

His fingers traced past all the small details of the sketches of the dresses and suits you made and he wondered what you would look like as a model. Sure, you were the artist, but what if you were a muse?

He couldn't help but imagine you draped in fabrics, nothing else underneath.

He shook his head out of it.

Where was all this coming from? He was a gentleman, his grandmother had taught him to be one.

Brushing those thoughts aside, he went back to admiring your work with a smile.

Indeed, you were an asset he couldn't lose.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Afterwards, he invested a lot of time into you. He would always drop by to the studio to talk to the head fashion designers then he would come find you, especially during your break where no one else would see you.

He disliked seeing you with others, terrified that someone else might steal his skilled intern away. No, he couldn't let any business rivals take you away from him.

Or at least, that was his justification.

Adrian would always watch you sketch your dresses behind you till you noticed and promptly let out a yelp. He enjoyed that fear in your eyes but what he enjoyed even more was the constant ambition sparkling in your pupils.

Right, you were his intern and his future designer. It was normal for him to be so invested in your growth.

After all, he was a gentleman. His grandmother had emphasised him to be in all his teachings, so this wasn't wrong. He wasn't preying on the cute intern because he wanted her. No, no, he was being a good boss by observing your actions and your growth.

Another defense as to why he began to nick your drawing pens away.

He would always replace them by gifting you more expensive pen though, a gift for you "allowing" him to have a close-up of the materials you use.

Plus, his future designer deserved the best.

You were his, after all.

"You lost another pen? No worries, I can gift you this one. Hm? Don't worry about it. Think of this as... an investment on your career."

#yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #yandere fanfiction #female reader #yandere ceo #ceo

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marinas-drafts · 7 months

Text

Honeymoon

A Sky High Lovin’ segment, the swingin’ 60’s

Summary: If weddings are for the bride then it suggests that Honeymoon’s are for the groom -a stupid cliche you had dismissed until your dashing groom proves a little inexorable in his intent to “educate” his new bride on the long Learjet flight to Honolulu

Warnings 18+: (sex, dubious consent) I am about to possibly over exaggerate these cautions but I find it necessary, particularly for anyone who is used to reading my work because this is by far the most dubious consent piece I ever ever written and the theme is entirely narratively sympathetic to entitled husbands and female objectification. So, as it’s me, of course there’s love and tenderness but it’s also got -repeatedly denied requests to stop during sex, innocence kink, possible male enjoyment of a recent virgin’s discomfort, nasty baby talk, worry about a man being unfaithful if you deny him, talks of teaching you how to take him, (possible grooming?!) assumed husbandly entitlement to a wife’s body, archaic views on gender roles… y’all, I ripped off Pricilla and went full Lana Del Rey and glorified breaking a woman into her husbands tastes, like, that’s the theme and it’s reveling in it so, enjoy but heads up 🌷🎀🌷

Repost here from my main: @precious-little-scoundrel

There’s something very salacious in the simple act of walking across the tarmac amidst a swarm of reporters clicking away with their cameras, ready to print the image of your little figure pressed against his side, images for all the world to look at and know what occurred to you last night.

What you two did. How he made you his. On your wedding night.

He made you a woman, his woman and the whole world knows it now. There’s something so damn dirty about this, even -or perhaps because- of how traditional it is. The ring sits with a comforting weight on your finger as he holds your hand, and your belly aches from your husband drawing his pleasure from your virgin body, your thighs trembling as you try your best to keep up with his long strides in your kitten heels. It’s so proper, it’s everything he ever wanted, and it makes your cheeks burn beneath the generous layer of makeup.

He looks painfully handsome and happy this morning, impeccably polished in the bright sunshine and you wonder at his duality. The way he can clean up and regain his proud suavity when last night you had seen him mussed, tremblingly tender and near unhinged in his passion while consummating your union. A dab of pomade, a double breasted jacket and his wife’s little hand in his -he’s utterly in possession of himself now and is the fuckin’ American dream incarnate right in this moment.

He’s very proud as he introduces you to some of the familiar press faces, and very gallant as he guides you up the few steps into the Learjet, broad palm searing your lower back and you wish you two could have remained tangled up in sheets, honeymoon and travel arrangements abandoned indefinitely. Just you and him floating together in a sky of crisp sheets and tangled limbs.

The photographers crowd in after you, soaking up the shy way you cuddle in close as he tucks you into his side, sympathetic to your own desire to be alone but too happy to begrudge anyone a glimpse at his little prize. Uhem, bride. The amount of satisfaction he finds in you is palatable to all here, his arm around you holds you close and grounds you even as his face splitting grin proclaims that you were a tight but obedient fit last night.

Your eyes burn you’re blushing so hard and that makes him grin harder and it’s pavlovian that smile, you can’t help but grin back, harder and crinklier than his and that stokes his joy further and soon y’all are giggling over memories the photographers will never be privy to. Those are yours, frantic and tender and aching.

Even the ever hungry photographers are glutted by the loved up display you give them, and soon they are departing and the plane door is shut. Then it’s goodbye America, off to Honolulu.

The tiny jet crew and the couple of boys from his paired down entourage settle into their seats as the jet roars down the runway and lifts off, effortless, soaring and sleek. Beside him you are restless, shifting and jittery on the leather seat, though he is gratified to see the demure way you cross your ankles and the ladylike poise of your spine even surrounded by the comparative privacy. His perfect southern Belle, whose every thought and action and word is to reflect well upon him and keep his name from disrepute, he couldn’t have chosen better. Your mouthwatering submission last night proved it.

You squirm again. Maintaining the modest coverage of your pretty little shift dress, the one accented with navy bows that coordinate with his suit, requires you to keep your upper thighs pressed together tightly, squeezing the bruise of your freshly opened little flower as it pulses distractingly, as if in flustered shock at its sudden required usage. Throbbing, sticky and hot.

“What’s my lil lady doin all that fidgetin for, hmm?” he asks you, tone solicitous but his eyes glint, “Plush leather seats not soft enough for my baby’s bottom?”

You startle and blush, just as he knew you would, and it’s adorable really, the way you can still be bashful after months of foolin and despite the recent intimacy of the night before. And it’s downright precious that you are so sore and achy after he had been so painstakingly gentle when he took you. You had no clue how sweet he’d been, the amount of self sacrifice he had shown in his languid slide and shallow thrusts, tender kisses and gentle grip. Resolutely holding back the absolute wreckage he could unleash on your poor, widdle unsuspecting cunt.

“Just excited.” your body vibrates as you shake your arms to highlight your explanation, gesturing to the wide blue sky out your window and the decadent interior of the jet.

He grins down at you and kisses your cheek, reaching for the seatbelt fastened at your lower belly and he flicks it open with his thumb, the heat of his hand branding you like an iron for the brief contact. “Lemme show ya round then, baby.”

He folds your hand in his again and weaves you down the aisle between the padded seats and towards the back of the plane, the occasional stray crew member meekly ducking towards the cockpit. You two pass the music lounge with its built-in piano and electric fireplace, then the kitchenette with its circular bar and spherical burst of lights coming out of the wall like cascading planets, back towards the little bedroom. You marvel at the designs, the colors, the unabashed wealth of it all floating thousands of feet above solid earth.

Happy and giddy you tuck into his side and he holds you close, arm snug around your waist, satisfied to show his little wife all he has to offer her.

“Y'know,” he serves as your guide, supplying details and anecdotes, most of which you already know but would listen to, enraptured a thousand times to keep him free and easy with his conversation, “Frank n' i didn't really get along when i first started out. ‘Said my music was brutal n' ugly. But we get along now. met 'im in person right after i met you. Reckon' ya rubbed off on me 'cause now we're good friends n’he lent us this jet to defile as we saw fit." his tongue pokes between his teeth, amused at himself and you find there is something cutely self-deceptive about his rare fits of humble bragging. “He’s got a mirror down here, nice big ole Broadway style vanity with it, bright lights n’low counter.” you’re far back into the plane now, he holds back a dividing curtain and you step into the little hallway dressing room right in front of the inauspicious bedroom door, “Frank uses this setup to primp before goin down the ramp to meet fans or shovin off for the next concert, reckon it’ll serve for the lesson I wanna show ya.”

Curious as to his plan, you look to him, both his image reflected in the huge, bare bulbed mirror and his own dear face beside you, more than a little pleased to see what a striking couple you make in the reflection, with his tailored suit and your chic smock, an IT couple without a doubt. It makes you feel pretty, wanted, a little proud maybe. That you won out of all those other hopeful girls. He sees your pleased expression in the mirror, the way your hip cocks and your expression morphs to your best kittenish smile. You’re preening. You think you’ve made it, think you’re at the summit of what life can offer and he may be partial but he thinks you wear smugness rather cutely. Makes him wanna shake ya up, rumple you a little, remind you who gave you all this. That your new image and importance and identity are due to being Mrs Presley.

He scoots up behind you, wrapping his arms around your belly and pulling you close to him, his chin settles atop your head. “Likin what you see?” he asks slyly, staring at the reflected image that will be on every magazine and newspaper tomorrow, the King of Rock n Roll and his perfect little darling who thinks she’s a woman now that she took cock once.

He runs his hands along your body, broad palms gathering then smoothing out puckers and rolls in the fabric of your dress as he follows the curve of you, breast to thigh and back up, then back down, further this time. He squats a little behind you and his clever fingers hook in your hem line and begin to draw it up, little by little exposing more and more leg in the mirror.

“Oh, no I-“ your hand flys to the apex of your thighs, pressing the fabric against you and keeping a covering there as his gathering has pulled your dress nearly to your little secret place, “what are you doin Elvis?” you ask, a little unsure and bashful of him exposing you in this somewhat public place, even if the crew is nowhere to be seen and the curtain is drawn.

It’s obscene to rumple up the perfect couple, all the starch and pomade that make Elvis Presley and his new bride the envy of the world. And it’s worrying. He does not know you omitted underwear today, the feeling of the fabric chafing and holding in the heat of your tender pussy too much to bear while maintaining a proper face on the tarmac.

“Gonna show ya somethin,” he repeats, eyebrow quirked at your “no” and the nervous way you are almost cupping the last few inches of your dress over your private parts.

He keeps ahold of the fabric he’s gathered up so far and takes to running his knuckles up your side soothingly again, till he notices there’s no band or catch on your hips as he glides up.

“You hidin somethin from me, honey?” he asks, already knowing the answer and the reason for your flaming cheeks, “Keepin secrets from your husband already, denyin him his right?” he tuts and your pretty coal rimmed eyes fly open in denial as you shake your head and pull your hand away. “That's more like it.” He nods approvingly, and ever the showman he waits a minute, building the suspense as his hands continue to map out your clothed body as your breathing quickens. In the mirror both your eyes zero in on the barely hidden triangle between your legs. Then with a flourish and flick of his wrist he swoops the hem up and a rush of cold air hits your exposed pussy. You slump into him and await his verdict. “Darlin, what’s this?“ he asks you gravely, his eyes very dark in the mirror and there you are, pristine up top and entirely bare below, it’s -vulgar. Vulgar and salacious with a fully suited man behind you shaking his head in disappointment that you’d be so careless on your first day as Mrs Presley, risking flashing the photographers or the flight crew because you were too delicate to stand a little fabric. He expects more of you, and he knows you know that.

You mix your explanation with your apology, looking like an eager to please little foal on shaky legs, and he accepts it with another tut and a hum as he rolls your dress up methodically until its bulk is beneath your armpits. The shame you feel in being so exposed is your own fault, your own doing, you know that.

If you’d obeyed you would currently have some demure scrap of silk covering you in the full glare of the showbiz mirror. But now you are bare to his blazing eyes. Your handsome new husband inspects you closely in the mirror, his ringed fingers trailing over your hips and over your belly, swooping up your ribs and tickling the underside of your breasts. Back down he goes, hands gliding and palms warm and broad, spanning much of your abdomen in his reach, down and down till he is petting your mound. Your arms dangle listlessly at your sides, entirely unsure what your part in this is, except to submit to whatever he wishes.

“You say your lil pussy is tenda, hmm?” he understands your motive now, and coos solicitously over your discomfort, even as he smirks at the notion you’re sore from that pathetically gentle love making. It snaps something primal deep inside him, or at least, he thinks that’s what made the decision for him, the decision to enlighten you that last night may have been real nice, but it weren’t typical. He can’t have a wimpy wife, he knows you’re made of tougher stuff, just needs to be coaxed out of you. “A little discomfort ain’t no reason for ya to risk showin the world Mrs. Presley’s goods, is it?” he observes and you nod in abashed agreement.

“No it isn’t,” your tone is fervent and you are so eager to make amends, “I’m sorry Elvis, I wasn’t thinking, I’ll do better.”

“I expect you to.” he says, not unkindly but you gulp and nod anyway, unmoored by his effortless authority. “Now, let’s see about this lil owie, hmm? Spread your legs for me, c’mon wider, that’s a good girl.”

You moan as his hand engulfs you’re throbbing heat, cupping the wounded little place and pressing it firm but gently with his palm. He can feel the thud of your heartbeat down there and the sticky proof of your excitement at just being near him. There’s heat pouring out from you too, a lotta heat. Half of it arousal no doubt, but it’s angry down there like a woman gets during her menses. Puffy and sweltering against his palm.

It’s gonna feel indescribably good around his cock.

“Now we’ve opened ya up,” he explains softly in your ear, “she’s gonna get all fussy down there if she’s left empty for too long.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror with a worried look, unconvinced that emptiness is at all the cause of your discomfort. You feel like something got rearranged down there and needs to be left to mend itself in peace. Preferably in a hot bubble bath. The one luxury this floating palace doesn't have.

“You trust me, don’t ya?” he asks your fretful expression proddingly, “Don’t want ya to close back up all th’way. Go too long and then we’d be starting from scratch each time, you understand baby?”

That does make sense. You swallow your fear and shake your head agreeably. Why shouldn’t you?

He was so tender last night, so romantic and gentle and chivalrous. He had kissed away all your fear and worry into the fluffy bed, sending you careening into bliss and flinging you up to the stars before gently pressing in when you least expected it. It had hurt then, sure, a little pinch and an uncomfortably full feeling he helped soothe by tilting your hips with a courteous pillow beneath them.

Making love had been nice, unexpectedly nice.

And better yet had been the sight of your gorgeous groom, shaking in effort to hold back his vigor as he worked himself in and out above you, gentle and kind, slowly losing a grip on his decorum and letting out sounds of pleasure and praise. There had almost been a whine on his lips as he stalled suddenly and clung to your shoulders and spilled inside you, cementing your union. It had made you feel gloriously happy, and a little smug to see him come undone from the feeling of being inside you.

He earned your trust.

“I understand.” you assure him, the little kisses he is pressing to your neck making you brave. You’d like to see him come undone again. If that means he has to go inside you again then you’ll accept that. Maybe he was right last night, maybe it’ll be even better today.

“That’s my good baby.” he praises you, pleased and handsome over your shoulder, “Gonna turn you into the best little wife the world has ever seen.” he starts to drag his fingers through your bruised petals and you make a ugly little grimace at the soreness before seeing how unpretty it looks in the mirror, consciously changing your expression to demure acceptance. The shiny pink of your lipstick highlights the baby doll serenity of your gentle smile.

“Take me to bed, please, Elvis.” you try to play along with him, desperate to show him your excitement and desire to please.

“Aww now, we’re not goin’ to bed this time, darlin, we’re gonna have a lil lesson so you ain’t in the dark bout marital duties and all that.”

You stiffen in his arms, confused and wary. He keeps nuzzling at your cheek and neck. You had anticipated that there might be adventurous trysts once married, sure. He had proven himself fond of messing with you outside the bedroom during your courtship, fingers playing with you under tables and in hotel elevators. You had prepared for him gently making love to you on a picnic blanket under a Hawaiian moon. Maybe in the tub, or heavens -perhaps the kitchen if he was ravenous. But you’re concerned now that you haven’t grasped his entitlement fully, you’re still trying to understand what he means by “lesson” and why he led you to this vanity. You have a shaky feeling that your embarrassment at being flashed in front of the mirror is about to pale in comparison to what he has planned.

His hand goes from petting your sticky folds to rubbing and swirling, calloused fingertips worrying your bud till you’re nearly keening in enjoyment. He hasn’t looked you in the eyes in a minutes. You keep watching his face as his expression goes from intent to hungry, watching himself fiddling down there with your pink petals as he gets you primed. Primed for the two insistent fingers that plunge into you with no warning. It’s easier this time, having had a coke bottle up there, even just once, did the trick, his fingers meeting far less resistance than last night. He’s made his mark, claimed ya and stretched ya. Never the same again.

His movements burn for you, tugging and persistent as they are and you wince, can’t help it with the way his elegant digits are caressing your sore walls at a foreignly fast pace. You hope that maybe not looking at the rough act will ease your discomfort, like looking away from the needle poke when giving blood helps you keep from getting queasy. The sounds though, wet and squelching, are unmistakable despite the hum of the jet's engines. You watch his face, hoping he’ll look up and meet your eyes, but he’s transfixed by the sight in the mirror of his fingers disappearing into you.

“Gimme your hands, baby.” his sudden instruction startles you as you had flown far away in your mind, trying to reconcile the conflicting amounts of embarrassment and arousal you feel under his heated scrutiny. Who knew married life would cause such a upheaval inside?

“Yes sir.” you present them palms up, and he jerks his chin,

“Now baby, listen, you’re gonna replace my hands while I get myself ready, alright, gonna keep my progress for us. C’mon, hand on each side, pull your lips apart, gonna spread your snatch nice n wide so you can really see the mechanics of the thang. The act.”

The act? What act - you figured if this was going to happen to you at the vanity he would spin you around and set you on the counter, take you kindly as you sat. He had licked you in a movie set bathroom like that one time. Your brain scrambles in confusion and panic, supplying the only familiar acts and positions you’ve tried so far. A man can’t take a woman standing, he can’t, it wouldn’t fit, or at least, it wouldn’t be nice, surely and he wouldn’t be anything but nice-

“Now,” he’s speaking up again, “squeeze your arms a lil, gotta keep your dress nice and clear of the exhibit, ok?” he snickers at the way your dress is bunched beneath your underarms.

You make a respectful noise of acknowledgment, too nervous to say more. Your folds are puffy and slippery beneath your numb fingers as you pull your labia apart like he instructed. This feels new, keeping clothes on while being intimate. It feels…irreverent and dirty somehow. Just like standing here, your whole reflection lit brilliantly and his eyes still glued to that place between your legs.

You watch him pull away from behind you and start to methodically undo the buttons of his double breasted suit jacket, sliding it off his lean arms and folding it carefully over a towel rack, “Ya see, darlin,” he explains, as he undoes his cuff buttons and starts to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “it's only proper you know what it looks like when we're joined together. I’ve got no desire to keep ya in the dark bout somethin God says is a good thing. This isn't the olden days, I don't mind having an enlightened sorta gal. So long as you don’t turn into the bra-burning sort of enlightened.”

He meets your eyes then as he gives you a look from under his lashes, admonishing you to stay away from such nonsensical, feministic, man-hating company as his deft fingers pop open the button of his slacks and he pulls himself out, weeping, thick and ready. You had no idea he was already so fully excited, your legs begin to tremble anew. He looks larger like this, somehow, all poshly dressed and admirably sauve in the mirror as his cock juts out of his tailored slacks, a single indecorous vulgarity marring his pristine Ken Doll image.

You flush red hot at the sight of him

lazily pumping himself as he saunters back to you, his hand yanking and pulling to chub himself up and then a thumb swirling around the uncut tip. He’s leaking and messy already, a profusion of precum wetting his hand and you give a silent prayer of thanks that at least he will add to the slick, hopefully ease the slide.

He doesn’t waste time with romance, he takes his place again behind you and this time you feel him sliding between your cheeks and then your legs, the feel of his open fly and belt against your bare butt. Due to your obediently spread lips, it’s perfectly visible when he slides through your folds and pokes out the other side, a pink, blunt, oozing cockhead playing peek-a-boo in your garden. He bumps your clit again and again with it until you are huffily shivering in his arms.

“Elvis are you really gonna-“ you can’t bear the suspense of it, you have to ask him his intentions, if he really means to make love to you standing up.

“-really gonna fuck my new wife in front of this state of the art mirror?” he laughs, thinking he knows what your quibble is, “Goddamn right I am, be a crime to not avail ourselves of the experience.”

He punctuates his enunciated vocabulary with rough thrusts against your bud that have you shaking and coming…just a little. Just enough for him to be sure you’re ready to take him.

“Fuck me?” you repeat in a panicked whisper, “B-b-but I’m your wife, Elvis!” you object, wounded.

He gets confused, stalling with his hand as he lines himself up with your freshly excavated entrance, “Whadda ya mean, honey?” he asks kindly, reaching around to tilt your chin towards him, but you sense that there’s an impatient edge to it.

You tearfully explain to him how your mother and other women have told you very explicitly you that men don’t fuck their wives. They make love to them. You are very adamant regarding it, and he ought to know better.

“Why baby, that’s the single greatest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” he declares in fond amusement, smooching your tear stained cheek and resuming his rutting through your folds, “You gonna trust some ole ninnies over your husband? Baby, I gave ya a real nice wedding night cause I love ya and you’re my special girl and I thought it your due, but I ain’t gonna be saddled with a wife who can’t meet my needs when I need a quick fuck, ya hear me? Case in point is now, my dick’s about to fall off from all this chit chat.”

You suppose there’s a great deal about marriage that is far more complicated than movies and books and Sunday potlucks led you to believe. It’s hard balancing how to please your husband as you ought with retaining some dignity that will make him respect you. You can’t imagine Elvis ever not respecting you, it’s too ingrained in him and what he wants isn’t to humiliate you, it’s what he needs to be satisfied. And you so badly want to keep him satisfied, you know deep down you’d do unspeakable things to keep his attention on you, perhaps that is where your shame comes from. It’s less about his expectations and more about the fact you’d throw away all your mother’s teachings before causing him to go elsewhere for comfort and acceptance.

You turn your head to him and pucker your lips for a kiss of acquiesce, which he obliges. His hand is still firm on your jaw as he deepens it, and it’s heady and passionate and loving and -he’s breaching you suddenly. A squat and flex and tilt of his hips and then he’s snagged your hole and he is pressing up and up and up and you whine into his mouth as his foreskin rolls back in your canal, an extra friction against your raw walls.

“Elvis!” you beg, breath caught in your throat at the burning sting of him as your hand flies up to clutch at his arm, secure around your hips, “its it’s-” you flounder with a word to adequately describe the delicious pain of it as he goes deeper.

He mouths messy and moaning at your neck and you can feel his belly shaking against your lower back, his cock twitching at the feeling of getting dipped in your silky channel. It makes you cringe in discomfort.

“You’re so goddamn perfect and warm as anythin,” he praises in a slur of kisses and moans as he flexes up and up.

The farther in he goes the more it loses any snuggly quality and instead feels rather like getting slowly impaled. You shift your stance in front of the mirror, legs spreading of their own accord and eyes squeezed shut in concentration at just trying to breathe. It goes on forever and you start to try to go up on your tip toes, to get away from it, from him, to lessen the fullness and the deepness of his assault somehow. He persists. You try to scramble up him, leveraging your weight on his forearm till your little feet are nearly off the jet floor.

His answering chuckle vibrates your back, “Looks like you’re tryin to learn how to levitate, honey.”

You scramble harder in a vain attempt to get taller, to elongate your poor vagina somehow, to keep him shallow

“T-that’s all I can take, Elvis” you try to tell him when he’s only over half in.

It's an honest declaration, to your hyperventilating self he feels impossibly big and certainly every bit as deep as it felt last night when he took you discreetly beneath the sheets in the good ole fashioned missionary position.

Your eyes widen as he doesn’t stop, just goes on and on and on, as your breaths get more panicked, shallower with each inhale, on the verge of a panic attack until he stalls and starts to pet your belly and kiss your cheek in an effort to bring you back down. “Breathe babydoll, breathe for me. Calm down, satnin, you took this all last night. you can do it again, I knows ya can.”

You've long ago started to whimper when he didn’t listen, half in pain and half in fear that he isn’t stopping, that he isn’t being as nice as he was last night. Why isn’t he stopping? oh why, why, “I can’t, I think I’m not made for it.” you wail as you writhe helpless in his arms, a pounding ache between your legs and a strange flutter in your chest.

“No, no, don’t say that baby, please don’t say that, you’re perfect baby, just perfect.” he pleads a little frantic, rubbing his lips along your cheekbone to collect your tears, “Only need a lil breakin in is all, this won’t always be so rough. I’ll fix ya honey, I’ll make it better. Don’t you go objectin’ to the heavenly proportions God gave ya, or what he gave me neither. We were made for each other.”

Hearing the tender worry in his voice soothes you, even more than his comforting touches, knowing he isn’t indifferent to your struggle, he just wants what’s best for you as any good teacher would. You take a breath, a large breath and it feels like it made him sink deeper somehow. You bite back a sob.

“You can do it.” he says in your ear, his voice shaky from how badly he needs to be moving inside you, “Please baby, let me in, I’m hurtin’ real bad, if you could just see lil elvis you’d feel so bad for the poor guy. Let him in, you can take it, let him in, let him in his lil house. That’s it, that’s it just a little bit more.”

The man lied. There was nothing “little” about the more he gives you when he bucks up that last bit and buries himself fully inside, balls snug against your butt.

“Oh, i’hurts.” you moan, tears leaking through your clenched eyes, smearing your immaculate cat eye. “hurts -I-I can’t, Elvis.”

“You can.” he declares firmly, trying so hard to stay in control, to gather the last shreds of his gentlemanliness, “More like -you *are* doing it. Look, come on. Baby! I said look! Open those eyes and watch how well you’ve taken me.”

You pry your clumping lashes apart and slowly your eyes drag from the reflection of your faces pressed together, down to your breasts where his hand is crushing a velvet bow in his grip, down your belly to to his forearm barred around your hips. Down to that place where you join.

“Where’d lil Elvis go, hmm?” He teases like you’re playing hide and seek, and you let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes at his babying tone, “Where'd he go, darlin? Oh, there he is,” he pulls out a tiny bit so the pink veiny length of him peaks out from between your lips, “there he is -wait where’d he go?”

“Elvis. Stop. Stop, that’s so dumb.” you beg through your sniffling giggles, the fiery stretch of him temporarily forgotten.

He laughs at your embarrassment and pulls out further this time, then snaps his hips back up to the hilt of him, drawing a pained cry from you “Who’s my bestest girl, hmm? who’s that? Shhh, shhh, Das you ain’t it? Look at’chue, doin so well. I need ya to stand straight baby, let those heels touch down. I mean it, plant your feet, don’t cry about it, no reason to cry, you gotta relax.”

You’ve heard him use the same tone of voice when helping Red’s puppy get a burr out of its paw. Pitifully you obey him, planting your feet and it feels like you’re riding a telephone pole, the way he’s stiff and unyielding, deep inside you, plumbing the depths of your belly.

“That’s more like it.” he hums in throaty appreciation of the snug fit of you, “Alright now, ‘member the job I gave ya?” he reminds gently as he starts to thrust slow and deep, watching as your face crumples in grief, “Hold yourself open baby, it’s very important you watch this, I need ya to understand you’re perfect for this, gotta let go of ma arm, c’mon now.” he pries your grip from his forearm and brings your hand back down to your puffy heat, “Spread yo’self.” his accent deepens as your body struggles to take him, clenching around him in an effort to expel him, and only serving to make him moan in bliss. “Look a’that.” he marvels, sounding utterly worshipful of the way the glistening pink length of him slowly comes into view, then slowly disappears -absorbed inside you, your painfully stretched little hole fluttering hopelessly at each dragging inch of him.

“It still really hurts.” you observe childishly through gritted teeth, your pained body fighting the fuzzy headed arousal you feel while watching the obscene display of him sliding in and out of you for a few languid grinds.

“That’s cause you’re so tense, loosen up baby, -actually, here.” he shuffles you forward and you make a reckless sound of disgruntlement at the feel of him shifting inside you with each baby step, “Here, knee up here.” he hooks his hand beneath your knee and props it up on the counter, somehow making this worse and better all at once with the new angle.

“Ow, oh god, you said it would get better.” you accuse, biting your lip in savage self reprimand after it. Foolish girl, to risk making him unhappy and frustrated, stoking his wandering eye.

“It will, dammit, it will. I'm gonna need you to hang in there and play with your lil button till it does, alright? Bout to burst back here with all this startin and stoppin.”

“Ok.” you whisper, feeling a little more steady with the firm counter beneath your knee, opened up a little for the intrusion of him.

He pats your hips and presses an appreciative kiss behind your ear, nearly drunk off your sweet little struggle to be good for him. It makes his heart soar and fills him with wild wants, makes him reckless, and a little mean somehow, like crushing rose petals to gain the scent.

“Now, I know I made love to ya last night, darlin,” he pets the bulge of his cock in your belly and you shudder in anticipation, “cause that’s what weddin nights are for, but now you’re a wife proper you gotta learn how to take cock without so much whinin and clingin, alright? Made ya a woman, didn’t I? so do me proud, act it.”

With this emboldening commission he presses one more kiss to your neck before pulling out before driving in, hard. And then he does it again, and again and again at a pace you’ve seen him maintain on stage but never, never imagined him using with you, against you, it feels like.

You shriek and your knee slides further apart with the violent rocking, trying with terrible desperation to find solace and feminine satisfaction in the guttural groans and huffed out praises your husband vents as he takes what he needs, flaming eyes glued to the mirror and the place where he plunders you.

You are really trying, it just hurts so damn much.

You know you’re lucky, you cling to that even as he spears your cervix again and again with gusto that suggests your panicked clenching is the best damn thing he’s ever felt in his life. You’ve heard from other women, older women trying to counsel you, prepare you for what lay ahead, that some husbands didn’t even bother trying to make sure their wives were slick enough. That the dry drag and burn of a man can make the stretch truly unbearable. It keeps you grateful that the lewd sounds now causing you to blush are testament to the flood of slick down there. It keeps you grateful meek even as you wail and smear your makeup with your gasped out shock.

He should slow down, he should moderate his thrusts, cherish his wife. He can see you’re struggling and panting and crying and somehow it’s all just a drug to him, the gorgeous little dolly he crafted so perfectly this morning looking utterly overwhelmed and defiled by his cock. It’s enough to make a man lose his bearings and forget his mama’s teachings on how to treat a lady.

The beast won’t be tamed. And so Elvis Presley begins to babble a stream of apologies as he exerts all the energy of his able body in fucking his young wife, like the deeper and harder he goes the more likely his lil swimmers will have the chance of making themselves a nice comfy home in your sweet womb:

“oh goddamn baby I’d stop if I could, but yer squeezing me like a vice and I just…I just can’t stop baby, be good, be good, don’t cry on me, be good for your husband, baby. You’ll get used to it, we’ll train your pussy baby, just gotta get through these early stages. Early stages and it’s, it’s normal, just a lil skittish is all, ain’t no way god made me want you this bad just for you to be cold. Ain’t no way, I can feel it when you’re dancin to my music, you want it deep, you crave it deep, you were born hungry. Oh goddamn, yes, yes, fuck yes, baby, I’m sorry I’m sorry, yes, keep squeezing me like that …….”

It is not talent on your part, this clenching that has him snarling in rapture with his eyes rolling back in his skull, it’s pure creature instinct, whether trying to expel him, bring him deeper or milk him fast so this agony will end, you don’t know. All you know is that his force is terrifying and you’ve never seen something quite as erotic as the pristinely polished beauty of his face morphing into ravenous determination.

Your panic flares one last time, unwilling to allow yourself to coast into enjoyment of this filthy usage without a fight. “Please, Elvis please -enough!” you gasp, even as something seems to have shifted inside you, a tilt or a nudge, whatever it is, it’s a spark of something dangerous.

“Listen here now,” he pants in frustration, one of his hands leaving your hip to fly down to your clit and rub it viciously, “i don’t have a particular hankerin to pin you down over the tabletop, face down ass up, and make this marriage work but I will if I have to. So be a good girl n’ quit all your whinin, show me some of that grit you show when I’m teachin ya on the mats. Don’t wanna make me do nothin rash, but I ain’t gon’ have my honeymoon ruined cause my wife is insistent on bein’ an obstinate lil’ brat!” his voice his shaking with effort, “now, open ya self up!”

It spooks you, this inexorable side of him, white hot lightening ripping through your nerves. Suddenly you’re alite. Scientists might be quick to give credit to the clever little rhythm his thumb strummed over your clit but till the day you die you will swear it was instinctive obedience that had you spasming and then gushing, suddenly relaxing and drawing him in, pliant and eager. Subdued at last.

“Aww baby, oh baby that’s it, oh thank fuck,” he gasps in relief as he feels the change, “I’ve gotchu, you know I gotchu always, gonna help ya get over that damn hill, gonna drop ya off that cliff gentle like.”

His movements are not gentle, if anything they speed up, but his hands cradle you, his mouth caresses you and he places his own knee beside your own, glued together everywhere except for the snap of his pelvis. There is a razor's edge here, in the sensations his body is drawing from yours, and it is an edge upon which you wobble, tipping now towards pleasure, then pain, then back again to pleasure. It confuses and overwhelms you, makes you moan and keen and beg like an animal in heat, the jet crew and all your ladylike deportment forgotten.

“Oh dear god Elvis, I- oh, oh, please don’t stop!” you’re suddenly shouting in a shocked beg, something irreversible building and this isn’t your standard *nice job buddy that was swell* orgasm approaching, it’s one of the *well done sir, I think I just died there for a minute* variety. It’s shaking, and thrumming and burning up your entire body, suddenly making lyrics to his well worn songs take on an entirely new meaning.

“Lordy mama, tryin to let the whole plane know I’ve broken ya in at last?” he teases, finding it heavenly the way you move with him now in an easy give and take, the smacking of your bum against him and the happy slack of your mouth driving him to madness.

Gone is the suave man of myth and envy, here is an animal instead, mounting and mauling and claiming you with ferocious devotion and you take it like a jerking rag doll, whining in need where you were once whimpering. He’s proud of you. If he had breath to laugh he would at the way you suddenly look dazedly disbelieving in the mirror right before your body seizes up and pleasure annihilates all your senses.

Your legs give out and you slump, having only the vaguest awareness of the fact he’s beginning to grunt and cry out himself, using you like a writhing receptacle, coming unglued behind you as you begin to melt on him like butter. There ain’t much thought or chivalry to the way he grabs at you, a hand beneath each knee and folds you in half, split open in front of the mirror as he ruts every last drop of satisfaction into you. He hears himself hollering as if through a tunnel, something that the fight crew, if asked, would paraphrase as being “oh goddamn, you are more perfect than anything.”

You are numb and pounding down there, the last frantic usage of your pussy an ordeal you endure with cock dumb acceptance. The way his face draws up and crumples shortly after, and then slacks in bliss -it is the single most violently arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed. Feeble as your energy is, you feel a surge of feminine pride at the way he mumbles and moans and finally shakes to a stop.

“That’s it, oh you’re so beautiful.” you moan, watching as his hair falls into his bleary, slow blinking eyes as he comes back to the surface, “And you’re mine.” you sigh, content.

“Mhmm, yours.” he coos, jostling you a little on his cock and he snuggles closer somehow, you think you feel his seed start to dribble out despite the sizable stopper inside you, “Well, bless your heart darling, I’ve got ya folded like a camp chair. Ha!” he gently folds your legs back down, pulling out of you with painstaking gentleness on the way down, “That weren’t very gentlemanly of me, was it?” he teases.

You sway dangerously once placed on your own two feet and you don’t even have the chance to fall, he never lets go before he realizes what’s needed. He picks you up and sets you on the counter, you pool back against the mirror, boneless and debauched, legs stuck bow legged from such a long ride and a vividly puffy pussy leaking his seed onto the counter. He tucks himself back in with still shaking hands. He won’t be fully back down to earth till Honolulu’s runway, he thinks. Just in time to carry you off the plane. And begin it all over again.

Married life, he could get used to this.

“It was perfect, you’re perfect.” you slur earnestly as he returns to you and unzips your dress, hauling it over your teased you hair, baring you fully as you sit on the counter, kicking feet thumping against the cabinets in your patten leather heels

“Nah…perfect -that would be you, Mrs Presley.” he kisses you deeply, before taking you in his arms bridal style and carries you into the bedroom, conscious but uncaring that you’re leaking all over his pristine shirt sleeve.

This next part oughta involve washcloths or wet wipes. But that would require leaving your sweet arms and facing a jet crew that just heard him railing his tender young bride.

Yeah, he’ll just use his mouth.

Hope y’all enjoyed. This is a repost from my (currently censored) main blog @precious-little-scoundrel and in turn it’s a repost from the original written over a year ago on my deleted OG Elvis blog@aconflagrationofmyown I want to start collecting my fics here in case anything happens with my main. Xoxo

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tiredfox64 · 5 days

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Hellooo! First of all, I love your fics, especially Tomas's. They are very entertaining and the way you write is just great ^^

This is more of a question than a request, although you can develop it further if you want.

How would the linkuei trio react to a s/o who says "I hate men... except you"

It came to me out of nowhere and I thought it was funny 🙃

There Are Exceptions

Prior notes: Hehehe I throughly enjoyed writing this. Also I forgot to say this with other people’s requests who gave me compliments but thank you so much for liking my writing! (*´∀｀*)

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Men

Bi-Han

These dim witted, nitwit goobers who serve your husband are too much to handle. All they know how to do is punch and kick. They have no other survival instincts that can save their asses.

It’s so tiring being the one to try to help them with whatever. A woman can only do so much.

You tried teaching them how to sew only for them to say something stupid like it’s a woman’s hobby. Forget about cooking. You have never seen someone screw up scramble eggs so much that it doesn’t even form. How the fuck does it stay watery? And why are you the only one who knows how to fold clothes? Screw steaming out their wrinkles.

Your last straw today came in the nighttime when one of the clansmen came up to you and ask the most stupidest question you have ever heard.

“Uhm, some of the men were telling me that a woman’s period was when she peels her skin every month. Is that true? Cause if it is you hide it well.” This clueless assassin…oh goodness.

You just stared blankly at the young man. It had to be a joke, right? They can’t be that stupid. Actually, you don’t want to know if they are that stupid. You walked away briskly with one thing on your mind and you had to shout it out. The moment you walk into your bedroom you slammed the door shut and screamed,

“I hate men!”

Bi-Han was already in bed, waiting for you to come around. He stared at you with that grumpy expression he always has before folding his arms in front of his chest. A low grumble was being emitted by him.

How can you say you hate men when you are married to one? One that treats you like the queen you are considered you are the grandmaster’s wife. He is also one who pleasures you till you are fully satisfied. Course, it’s more like you have to go on until he is satisfied.

“…except you.”

“Mhm, that’s right. I should be the exception here. I am the grandmaster, I deserve your full respect.” Bi-Han reminded you of his role as if he doesn’t do so every day.

“And you are also my husband,” you walked up to him and placed a kiss on his forehead, “Now would you mind spooning me for tonight.”

“After that outburst, I am unsure if you deserve it.” Now he’s just being petty.

You pouted as you changed into your sleepwear. If Bi-Han looked for at least five seconds he would have caved. But he looked away immediately to prevent himself from changing his decision. You huffed as you slipped into bed. You went on your side and pretended like you didn’t care. You did because you always lost the idgaf war.

“Please, I love you.” You said over your shoulder.

Bi-Han let out a groan before turning over and wrapping his arms around your waist. Haha you win.

You may not like men but you love this man. You like this man because he’s your man.

Kuai Liang

Why does no one think of the logical answer to something?

You go out to the market all the time so you could help feed the Shirai Ryu. It helps lessen responsibilities for your husband. But even this simple task is made difficult and stupid because of some of the venders. More specifically the men.

You asked for watermelon and they hand you plastic containers with the funkiest bits of watermelon. They are discolored and are definitely past their ripeness. Yet they all tell you it’s fine. It’s not fine! It’s not good quality! Why even cut the watermelon in the first place you can do it yourself!

You want some mangos? Well you can’t fucking have any because they don’t got it. Oh what’s that? A BUNCH OF FUCKING MANGOS RIGHT BEHIND THEM! And they tell you that those are honey mangoes you didn’t specifically ask for those. They told you no because they thought you wanted Haden mangoes. Just give the woman a fucking mango!

You’re so over those male venders. They never even help you pack the carts up.

You’re too tired went you get back to the temple. You let everyone else pack the food away without helping out this time. You can’t be bothered. You take your shoes off, step into the temple, and sigh heavily.

“I hate men.” You groaned.

You didn’t realize Kuai Liang was coming up to you to greet you. You looked up and saw his face. He stared blankly with a bit of concern.

“…except you.”

You wanted to make it right so you ran up to him, giving him many kisses and hugging him.

“What has made you so hateful, my love? Did someone at the market bother you?” He asked with concern.

Kuai Liang was not at all mad at what you said. He found it odd which meant there was something wrong. His hands went up to check if maybe it was something physical. He would hate to find out you were hurt while out. What kind of husband would he be if he can’t protect his wife?

“Many people bothered me at the market today. Some people are unfortunate stupid.” You replied.

“Perhaps you can tell me all about it in bed. I’ll make you some tea to help with the stress.” He took your hands as you both walked to the bedroom.

Kuai Liang is the kind of man you need in your life. If only the men at the market had his intelligence. Though you do like being cared for when there is any sign of distress from you. It makes you feel like a princess.

Tomas

To help train the Earthrealm champions is like trying to train a seal, a kangaroo, a bison, and a Komodo dragon to leap at least a meter out of the water. One will succeed, another will jump but not reach it, another one won’t try to jump, and the other will be too busy trying to mate with you.

They are all nice in their own way but Johnny is the worst of them all. You tell him you are happily married and it’s in one ear and out the other. Just because his marriage failed doesn’t mean yours has to.

Kenshi is alright he just has stubborn. He believes it’s nerves that wins fights. If that were true why does he keep failing to you. And when he is not going against you he’s going after Johnny’s throat. You get it, Johnny won’t give back Sento. But now is not the time to bust his ass.

Kung Lao just gets on everyone’s nerves. You have never seen a bunch of monks ready to implode and strangle someone. Don’t forget that you almost lost your head because he flung his hat in the wrong direction. All you got back was a small ‘sorry’ before he took his hat and ran off.

And Raiden…he’s fine. He’s done no wrong.

Yet no matter what you always have to return and help the fools. You give and give and what do you receive? Hell!

You are exhausted when you return home. You don’t talk to anyone you just go straight to your bedroom. You let out a groan the whole time and when the door closes you let that groan become words.

“I hate men.”

Tomas was already waiting for you in the bedroom. He was walking up to you to hug you until he heard those words. He looked concerned and even a little sad.

Well he’s a man, do you hate him? Did he do something wrong? He hopes he didn’t, he doesn’t want an unhappy wife.

Your attitude immediately went away at the sight of Tomas.

“…except you.”

You ran into his arms and hugged him tight. You could never hate a man like Tomas. He is your husband after all. You picked a good one compared to all the other men that you have seen.

“I’m guessing they upset you again.” He asked.

You nodded. The day is already over you don’t feel like talking about every single stupid thing that they did. Tomas understood and hugged you tight.

“Do you want me to beat them up?” He whispered jokingly in your ear.

For once today you laughed. He always manages to bring a smile to your face. You wish you could let him but that would be a bad decision. Though it’s funny to think about. He was just happy to hear that wonderful laugh of yours. It just shows that he’s a good man to you. He can turn a frown upside down and make you see the good in men. Or at least the good in him.

After notes: Can you tell I got pissed off with Kuai Liang’s part? That shits a little too true. Those instacart tik toks be crazy. Here’s a little experience of when I hated men: one didn’t take no for an answer for YEARS. He still can’t take no even from other girls. But most of the men I know are good. Alright enough yip yap I must march on. Adiós!

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