word count: 1,114
Possessive Diavolo
Started off as an imagine where the man is a serious kitty eater, and then, well, I just kept going!
I had uploaded this earlier, but for some reason it was all cut off!?! Boy was I upset.
His
His hands do not relent in their hold, all of his fingers selfishly pressed onto her soft, irresistible hips with selfish claim.
Starved, his mouth moved.
Craving, he continues to taste.
Obsessed, he cannot stop.
His previously purple tinted lips are pressed over her slickened flesh, his nose plunged into a musk so mouthwatering, he does as instinct tells him and simply devours his meal.
His kisses are all wet, each messy, and oh so lewd as he mercilessly continues, lapping at the precious juices that he doesn't let go to waste, even as they dribble down his chin and threaten to fall onto the bedsheets.
All he does is draw back, the movement done so almost hesitantly as his fingers glide over his chin where he devoutly gathers the nectar until it is led back into his awaiting mouth.
- All of her, every bit of her is his to take.
And during then he looks down, his sharp, green eyes narrowed down at her, watching as she lay flat, her haggard breathing and trembling legs telling him she's surrendered to him completely.
The (e/c) colored eyes that he so cherishes were hidden away by a damp cloth, and yet, even then he can feel her gaze.
Through the dark material which was stained with her gathered sweat and tears, he could feel her search for him, and it gives him all the more reason to draw back to her.
Again, he dives in with the same appetite as nothing entices him more than to feel her entrance puckering, desperate for a stretch.
- Desperate for him.
His cock is standing, hard and strained as he continues to devour his woman like the greedy king he is.
He stays like that, sweetly torturing her, holding her down while listening to her mewls that morph into needy wines so frequently he has trouble holding back his arrogant smirk.
Her pleasure is because of him.
Her restless shivers are caused by him.
The flesh that is stained by smudges of violet is all his, and every other bit that seems untouched is just as claimed.
Her voice belongs to him as well as every breath that replaces addresses meant for him.
"(f/n)..." he coos, the sound sickly sweet as he smirks.
And at the sound of his voice, there's a hitch to her breath, as well as a sudden, unexpected jump to her heart that seems to reset her entire body.
Her wildly bucking hips then calmed, all despite the desperation he knows she feels. Her hands which were previously fisted onto the bedsheets slowly lost their grip as they melted into tranquility as the rest of her body had.
There was a very light spasm to her fingers that turned into very light drumming that was first accompanied by a thick, low exhale from her mouth as he pulled her closer to his body to continue where he left off.
He supposed it was a distraction, a little gesture done to keep her hands at bay to not be tugging at his long locks, the young woman knowing submission even whilst her mind is completely fogged in ecstasy.
- Knowing her place as the dutiful cocksleeve serving a powerful king.
"Can I ...?" she breathed, pleading with that little voice of hers that turned and twisted his stomach, as well as caused his heart to flutter.
With a hum that hardly reached her, he then moved one of his hands to one of hers, the warm touch saying what he lacked in words.
Her hands then reached his long locks, and her fingers immediately weaved through the strands.
He remembers how innocent she'd been at first, how reluctant she was to have him so near her, and much more, horrified by the thought of having someone stare down at her whilst completely exposed.
He recalls how fiercely she'd tried to hold down her cries out of utter shame, all of which are in contrast to the obscene whines that now bounce within the four walls.
There was nothing more he wants than to constantly have her yearning, trembling, and needy just for him. He wants to ruin her in every way, make the woman belong to him at each angle anyone could gaze at her.
'Anyone else disgusts you,' he inwardly sneered. 'Anyone else is an insult.' he went on.
'Anyone else who touches you won't ever see the sunlight again.' He then thought with utter darkness brewing within him, the way his grip tightens forcing a little squeal out of her that interrupts her sweet mewling.
"You're mine..." Diavolo murmurs, his every word while thought of with darkness, released with tenderness that couldn't be helped.
He then moved up, slowly trailing the same wet kisses over her naked body until he found her mouth, giving her a kiss that was first delicate and devoted.
His mouth presses were sweet, the man doting over her with low hums as he tries to part and she instead stretches as far as her neck allows her to, hoping to keep their lips connected as long as they can.
It's adorable, warming too.
The act leaves him feeling tremendously adored.
- Worshiped even.
His left hand moved to palm her cheek, his thumb caressing her lips with slow movements as he continued to look down at her.
'Beautiful,' he thinks to himself, drunk on her.
"You're all mine..." he says again, deeply sinking into her, the shaky breath he releases full of bliss as he shuts his eyes tightly.
Of course, he enjoys every second they make love, but it's always the first thrust that gives him that special high that's almost as euphoric as the feeling the very last one gives him.
His lower lip nearly quivers as he begins to move, the warmth that pulses around him and continues to call him nothing short of addicting.
(e/c) colored eyes cannot see how glazed his own eyes have gone.
The young woman could never imagine a man so feared and merciless would be rendered weak and vulnerable just for her.
His hands both cup her cheeks, his thumbs slowly inching closer to the edge of the blinding cloth until they slip beneath. The material bunches and there are only a few centimeters left until she can truly see the man.
Slowly, light seeps into her vision and the blurry image of the man who runs an entire organization.
- His own personal army,
comes to sight.
His bliss is not withheld, because he's thoroughly unashamed to greet her in such a state. After all, as it stands, she's just as helpless.
She's just his.
" Amore mio, " he breathes.
