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lovesick-rambles · 3 months

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Klutz

commission for: @bobmckenzie

summary: Randall seeks out Caitie to comfort her after a nasty fall

word count: 2k

content warnings: blood, mentions of death, bullying, slight angst

author's note: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMMISSIONING ME AGAIN CAITIE this was such a cute idea and it was so fun to write!! <3

divider credit: cafekitsune

It was David’s turn to die and it had to happen tonight. That is what was agreed and planned upon.

The entire group buzzed as they discussed the plan for tonight’s events and there was an air of frightened excitement amongst all of them. Especially with Caitie, who could feel her hands shaking as she held onto her gear. There was a lot of pressure put on her, mainly by Nelson.

As a film student, it was her job to record and film everything they did. Documenting such experiments was very important to the group, but to Nelson especially. He was incredibly controlling and a bit of a perfectionist with how Caitie recorded these endeavors. He always seemed to have something to criticize when it came to her but it was usually chalked up to “tough love” or “harmless joking”. His words always seem to linger in her mind, though.

They finally arrived at the construction site and wasted no time preparing for what was to come. Everyone had their duties that needed to be fulfilled and of course, Caitie’s job was to set the cameras up. While lost in her own thoughts and nervousness, she lost her footing and fell with a thud.

“Oh, what is it now, Caitlin?” Nelson peered at her with hard eyes.

Caitie winced at the dull pain that started to throb and cleared her throat, “Just tripped. Sorry.”

She glanced at her hand and let out a small gasp. The pain hadn’t even hit her yet so she didn’t even know she got a nasty gash on the palm of her hand. She blamed the adrenaline for that and did her best to gently wipe away any gravel and debris that surrounded the wound. Small droplets of blood started to bead around the entry, too, and she didn’t have anything on hand to cover it with.

“Caitie,” Nelson taunted in a sing-song voice, “Are you going to continue to slow us down or are you actually going to help us for once?”

“Just a second, sorry.” Caitie slowly got up, careful not to let her hand touch anything.

He sighed, “Yeah, it’s always ‘just a second’ with you, isn’t it? Well, fine. We’re pretty used to waiting for you at this point.”

Finally, his words got to her. She frowned and gritted her teeth. Caitie wanted to tell him off, scream at him, tell him to shut up, but she fell silent. Then, she coughed out an excuse about her hand and ran off, leaving them all behind.

She could hear Nelson griping about her leaving without saying anything but she didn’t care anymore. Caitie didn’t feel like putting up with his bullying anymore. Especially when she felt tears prickling the corners of her eyes. The last thing she needed was him noticing that and bringing it to everyone’s attention. Thankfully, she found a bathroom nearby so she didn’t have to wander in the dark for too much longer.

Caitie entered the empty bathroom and flicked on the lightswitch so she could be able to see. The fluorescent light above her hummed above her as the light bulb was lit. It seemed to struggle to stay on with the way it flickered every few seconds and Caitie wondered if it needed to be changed. Despite its unwelcoming appearance, the water from the sink was clean and that’s all she hoped for.

“Cait?” A voice called out for her, “Caitlin? Are you in here?”

The voice made her jump and tense up, but she relaxed quickly after seeing who was looking for her, “Oh, Randy, it’s only you! You startled me.”

Randall hesitantly entered the bathroom and gave her a worried look, “I didn’t mean to. Are you okay?”

Before she could answer him, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Caitie froze as he inspected the wound on her hand and could swear she could hear her own heartbeat. He cradled her hurt hand in his and frowned.

“We should clean this up. I don’t want it getting infected on you.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay! You don’t need to-” “Don’t worry,” Randall looked down at her and gave her a grin, “I’m a medical student. I know what I’m doing.”

He turned the faucet on and ran her hand under the water, making sure to very gently rub his thumb over the gash to make sure he was getting rid of any dirt or gravel that might have snuck its way in.

Caitie felt her face grow hot and found herself struggling to act normal around him. They were just so close together. So much so that it was making her flustered, especially due to the fact that he was quite a bit taller than her. They were also basically holding hands in the most loose definition of the term.

Randall noticed how still and silent she was, “I’m not hurting you, right?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” She tried to swallow her nervousness, “In fact, you’re helping me feel better.”

“Good,” A soft pink dusted his cheeks, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He was also aware of their closeness but he was a little better at keeping a poker face about it. Randall would never say this out loud, let alone to her, but he quite liked the feeling of Caitie’s hand in his. He didn’t know if she was just acting nervous because of Nelson, of the fact that he was technically in her personal space, or the possibility that she shared the blossoming romantic feelings he held for her. He didn’t want to take any chances, so he just bet on the fact that it was Nelson’s fault and carried on like normal.

Randall pulled her hand away from the water and turned off the sink. He then searched through his pocket for something to cover the wound with.

“You carry gauze with you?” Caitie asked, laughing a little.

He shrugged, “It’s for when situations like this happen.”

He gently took her hand in his again and very lightly wrapped the gauze around it. Then, he applied the smallest amount of pressure to make sure it wasn’t going to fall off easily.

Caitie, flustered once again, looked at her feet, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Randall replied, “Does it feel okay? Too tight? Too loose?”

She muttered another small thank you and whispered that it felt just perfect. He didn’t want to let go of her just yet but he also didn’t want to hold on in case that would look weird. So, he just put the gauze back in his pocket and looked at her.

“Are you ready to go back out?” He asked, secretly hoping she’d say no so he’d have an excuse to continue to enjoy her company alone.

Caitie shook her head, “No, not yet. Maybe in a bit?”

“No rush.” He stood beside her and leaned his back against the wall behind them.

“Thanks,” She lightly traced the bandage on her hand with her finger, “Maybe Nelson has a point.”

Randall furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“Well, he keeps calling me clumsy, a ditz, that sort of thing. And then I go and fall and then get myself hurt. I’m starting to think he’s right.” She let out a sad laugh, trying her best to make what she’s saying feel more like a joke. “Okay, and?” His lip curled, “Nelson is an asshole. You shouldn’t take what he says to heart.”

She shrugged, “I dunno. I am the klutz of the group and I always seem to be the one that slows you guys down. I almost wish Rachel didn’t ask me to help because it seems like I’m doing more harm than good.”

Randall couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He always thought so highly of Caitie so to hear that she felt the opposite about herself was a shock. The words he so desperately wanted to say were lodged in his throat and made him stay silent.

Caitie continued, “I really don’t fit in with you guys, anyway.”

That was the final straw.

“You seriously cannot let a dickweed like Nelson get to you so bad.” Randall said.

She looked up at him and went to say something, but he interrupted her.

“You tripped over chunks of shit that were in your way. It’s dark out, too. You can’t beat yourself up over tripping. The camera wasn’t destroyed nor were we in the middle of anything. Honestly, it’s Nelson’s fault that we’re filming in an abandoned construction site that’s full of shit that’s easy to trip over and get yourself hurt on.”

“But-”

“But nothing, Cait.” He gently elbowed her, “Nelson is a prick. You could be the most perfect person in the world and he would still find something to complain about.”

Caitie smiled at him and rubbed her arm awkwardly, “I’m just a bit embarrassed, I guess. I just feel like I made an ass of myself.”

Randall chuckled, “If anything, his constant whining made him look more like an ass than you. You’re not the ditz, or the klutz, or the anything of the group. You’re just Caitlin to us and honestly, that’s the best thing ever.”

“Thanks, Randy.” A big, goofy grin spread across her face and she felt herself getting flustered again.

“Anytime, Cait.” He replied, happy to see that she seemed to feel less down.

A comfortable silence fell between them and they hid in the bathroom a little while longer. They both could hear members of the group, Nelson specifically, calling out to them and asking where they were. The pair weren’t quite ready to leave yet, though. They just wanted to stay hidden for just a few more minutes.

“Randy? Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Hmm? Oh, sure, shoot.”

Caitie cleared her throat before asking, “Why did you follow me here? I mean, not that I didn’t want to see you or anything. I just know that nights like these are busy for you. Especially when you’re also expected to record, you know?”

“Oh, well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He answered plainly.

“Really?” She didn’t mean to sound so surprised but it just slipped out of her. His answer wasn’t what she expected to hear.

“Yes, really.” He smirked, “Now, I think they’re looking for us. Do you feel ready to go back?”

Caitie thought about her answer for a moment before ultimately deciding that yes, she was ready. She nodded at him before thanking him again for checking on her and for dressing her wound.

He told her that she was welcome and led the way back to the group. Nelson once again tried to raise hell over Caitie disappearing but Randall was quick to nip that in the bud. It felt nice to have someone stand up for her when she struggled to do so herself, so Caitie’s confidence grew a little after that.

The rest of the planned events went smoothly and she was able to set up the camera without any issues. Randall wrapped her hand in such a way that made it feel like there was virtually nothing there. Throughout the night, he kept looking over in her direction to check on her, giving her a small smile every now and then. Caitie would always return it, waving at him as she did so.

“How’s your hand?” He mouthed to her when he was sure no one was paying attention.

“Good, thanks to you.” She whispered back, talking slowly so he could read her lips.

Both of them wished they could’ve stayed in that uncomfortable bathroom together for the rest of the night. That moment where it was just the two of them was the highlight of the entire evening for them and they almost wished it would have lasted forever. They were happy for the time they spent together, though, and made sure to promise themselves that it would happen again. Hopefully without anyone getting hurt next time.

#commissions ♡#my writing #self ship commissions #thank you for commissioning me!

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iwaasfairy · 1 year

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are you interested in a commission in may or june? ٩꒰✩’ω`ૢ✩꒱ゞ I kinda need to know to plan out what or how I’m gonna prioritise!!

#I’m for sure gonna post two of cups before anything else #but I do prefer knowing about commissions beforehand so I can plan in #any other motivation I have #ring ring #♡♡♡ and I feel like I should thank anyone who’s commissioned me in the past #I love and am so grateful for the faith you put in me #:’>>

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aedearly · 5 months

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#PORTFOLIO: COMMISSION SHOWCASE ! a commission for @/baoying, designed for a single-muse blog, specifically blade from honkai: star rail. thank you so much for your patronage and preference! d(ゝ∀･)ﾉ

_________________________________________

#♡: portfolio! *#designed and delivered on: august/2023.#the most fun i ever had designing a more gothic kind of icon border!!#thank you for commissioning me !

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s3rrrpentine · 2 months

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hugs and snugs ♡( ◡‿◡ )

thank you @phasing-through-walls for commissioning me!!! ☆ you're the sweetest (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

#s3rrrcommission #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #cod fanart

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al4thea · 4 months

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This wonderful meme has been brought to you by the ideas of @tapioca-milktea1978, thank you once again for the commission! This content wouldn't exist if it weren't for you ♡ I don't do animation (because I don't know how) but I can't help try it on Ghost's eyes and I just want to show my appreciation for the support! (人ŐωŐ)♡

If you have any ideas or drawings you'd like me to draw I still have my commission open!

#ghoap #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap x ghost #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod mwii #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x john mactavish #john soap mactavish

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andva-ri · 4 months

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☆ Art Collaboration with the lovely @sanfezu! ☆

They're so talented and wonderful ;-; one of the best Donnie artist!!

♡ Thank you Fez for doing this with me, it's been so fun, you def helped with my art block ♡

☆ ko-fi ☆ | ☆ patreon ☆ | ☆ commissions ☆

#rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie #tmnt #donatello #donnie #art collab #collaboration #sanfezu #myne #hope to do one of these again in the future <3

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hyunsvngs · 5 months

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𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - lee minho x fem!reader

wc: 5.8k

cw: this is a piss fic, you have been warned - don't like don't read, established d/s dynamics in a relationship, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: your boyfriend has something he wants to try in bed. you didn't expect to like it so much.

a/n: like i said before this is a piss fic, if you don't like don't read! thank u to the sweet girl who commissioned this & thank u to my babies may and nessa for proofreading and also my ems <3 i was super nervous about this so i hope u like <3 smut warnings ofc under cut

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: PISS, established d/s dynamics, dom!minho, sub!reader, subspace, SERIOUSLY THERE’S PISS, face fucking, oral (m rec), very negotiated kink, minho calls reader a plethora of pet names, nipple play, one (1) face slap, minho’s condescending and MEAN, choking, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, squirting, reader calls minho sir briefly, brief aftercare but more offscreen!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s always daunting when Minho gets like this. You know exactly what’s going to go down tonight - you’ve discussed it extensively. You always have to discuss it extensively. Minho is nothing if not a good dom, and there’s rules and regulations that you have to adhere to, even if he is your boyfriend.

It still catches you off guard. He paces across the room to your shared wardrobe, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and exposing his veiny forearms. You’re perched on the bed, the exact way he told you to be in your plain black underwear. The fresh sheets are a welcome coolness on your warm skin. You’re overheating in excitement. You can’t wait.

He’s going to piss on you tonight. He’s going to piss on you tonight, or maybe even in you, he’d said - he wanted to make you well and truly messy. Just the way he liked you. He told you he’d be mean, maybe even meaner than normal, and you’d agreed to it all before climbing into his lap and begging him to take you on the flimsy dining table chair in your kitchen in all of your excitement. He had chuckled, brushing a hand over your head with a teasing little “you want it that bad, huh?”. He still fucked you, so your plan went as hoped.

“I want to talk to you about something before we start, jagi,” His voice is smooth, low in volume, yet you hear every word loudly. You nod in response, and he turns and blinks at you, slow and cat-like. Oh, yeah. You were forgetting yourself already.

You blush in embarrassment of how far gone you are already, and he smiles, soft and barely noticeable. Fond. “Yeah, Min?”

The blush only continues to spread when he finally, finally climbs onto the bed next to you. He’s still in his work clothes, shirt tight on his broad pecs and his trousers tight on his thighs. You try not to stare. You fail, and he chuckles, using two fingers to prop your chin up to look directly at his eyes.

“This scene is a little harder than the other ones we’ve done,” He looks at you. It would feel scrutinising, the way he’s sizing you up, but his eyes are so full of fondness you can’t feel perceived at all - only admired. “I’m a little worried you may fall into subspace. Do you know what that is?”

He’s using his dominant voice on you, you swear. The tone of voice that’s level, not quite monotone but very, very straightforward and firm. Almost strict. It makes you rub your thighs together in need. Your boyfriend is so sexy when he’s like this.

A quick scratch to your chin has you blinking back into reality. Yes. “Yes, I do know what that is. I’ve never done that before though, have I? So I probably won’t now, and-”

“We don’t know that,” He’s firm when he cuts you off, but presses a kiss to your nose nonetheless. “I need to know if you’re okay with me continuing if I notice you getting all floaty, jagi. I won’t if you don’t want me to. This is all in your hands, yeah? You know you run this show.”

He chuckles, lightening the mood, but he’s right. When Minho first introduced you to this, you realised very quickly that despite the dominant being physically in charge, it was definitely the submissive that held the reins. It’s hard giving yourself over to someone so viscerally - it’s a vulnerable state to be in, letting someone decide your limits and decide what’s best for you.

Despite that, you’d let Minho fuck you outside in six foot snow, so you were definitely down for being fucked in subspace.

“Yes. Yeah, I want you to- I think it’d be hot, I think,” You’re babbling already, and Minho smiles again, his teeth glinting in the low light of your lamp. “I think it would be hot if you carried on, and I was like- all fuzzy, and stuff. You know?”

It’s silent for a beat, and then he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Cute. Remember I love you, jagi, okay?”

Oh. Oh, you were starting? He normally only said that before you started, and before you can question him, he’s pressing his mouth against yours firmer, harder. It’s messy, the way he dominates your mouth instantly and uses one hand to tangle in your hair, yanking your hair back. You whimper against his lips, and he bites your bottom lip in response, finally moving to press you down to the bed with him on top of you. He starts to trail kisses down your face and your neck, and you can't help but let out a small noise of excitement. Before you can beg him to leave his mark on you, he quickly moves back up to your lips and starts to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth in an act of possession. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer, feeling yourself getting a lot more than just worked up.

His chest is muscled, the slightly toned soft muscle that only makes sense on Minho. He’s not heavy on top of you, only a presence where he licks and sucks into your mouth until you’re leaking into your panties. He pulls away, his lips dropping to your neck, and you can’t be anything more than pliant the way you let him use your skin and mark you as his. You are his. Mentally, emotionally, physically - any way he wants you, you’ll let him.

“I love this body,” Minho groans, his voice low and gravelly. “Such a filthy fucking body. You’re gonna let me piss on it, aren’t you?”

You whine, loud and unabashed, and Minho chuckles. It’s a puff of air against the exposed column of your neck and your hips cant up, searching for friction.

“Oh, you are,” His hand moves down to your bra, searching through the lace for your pebbled nipple. The lace is thin, pitch black and almost sheer, and a grin forms on his face when he manages to pinch your nipple meanly. “Look at how excited you are for it. Your nipples are so hard, are you that excited for my piss?”

You try to nod in response, but a quick slap against your cheek using his spare hand has you reeling to try and form words. You’re babbling before you can even think. “Y-Yes! Yes, Minho, I’m excited. I can’t wait, I wanna- I wan’ taste it, will you let me? Please?”

He hums in consideration, yanking down the cups of your bra to expose your tits to him. He was right - your nipples are hard and pebbled, dusky against your flesh, and he ducks down to engulf one in his mouth. His lips are full, plush like pillows, and his tongue darts around your nipple in small kitten licks. Soft, wet, warm. Pliant. His.

Minho’s bunny teeth are quick to bite at the peak, and you whine, back arching up to get more of the painful pleasure. He coos at this, finger running over your areola once when he pulls back from your chest. He sits back on his haunches, fingers deftly making quick use of his belt. The way he pulls the belt from the loops on his trousers have you remembering all the times he’s whipped you with it, and your eyes go blurry. You’re staring directly at the extremely prominent bulge in his trousers as if you somehow have x-ray vision and can see his cock in all its glory already.

“I’m going to fuck your face,” He explains, pushing down the expensive branded boxers to his thighs. His thighs are thick, muscled from years of dance, and you nod at his words despite having your vision solely trained on the bulging muscles. You can’t even keep your attention there for long - his cock springs out, hard and flushed and so big, so thick in the tight ring he forms around the base. The veins look as though they could be practically throbbing beneath the skin with arousal. “I’ll fuck your face, and I’ll piss down your throat. Do you want that? Tell me.”

He’s asking you, and you can’t believe it. Of course you want it, but you respond anyway. “I want it. I want it so bad, Minho. How do you want me? On the floor, on my knees? Or do you-”

“On the floor,” He looks towards the ground, pleased with himself when you heed his commands immediately. You’re quick to dive off of the bed and sink to your knees on the floor, and Minho lets out a fond chuckle before standing in front of you, ever the image of dominance. The hardwood floor doesn’t save your knees, still feeling hard and uncomfortable, and the way the pain bites into your legs has you shifting even more. It turns you on, being used and treated like an object, and being put on the floor to suck cock doesn’t help any. You’re positively ruining your panties by now.

His trousers are pushed down to his ankles, the perfect juxtaposition of black, thick material against his milky skin. His shirt is rolled up just enough for you to see the bottom of his tummy, hairy and soft above his cock. You expect him to keep it on, but you watch in awe as he unbuttons his shirt quickly and throws it to the side. His chest is exposed to you then, all broad muscle and dusky pink nipples against his skin.

He pumps his shaft in his hand a few times for good measure, just barely a few inches from your face, and then he’s tapping the cockhead on your lips. “Open wide. C’mon, kitty cat.”

His tone is condescending, almost patronising, and you hold back a whine. When your lips fall apart, he’s pushing into your mouth before you can even process it. A blistering, feverish pace immediately takes over his hips, and his cockhead is ramming down your throat with only a slight bit of pain beneath all of the pleasure. You try to run your tongue over the tip, to trace the veins with the tip of your tongue, but it’s impossible. He’s using your mouth like he’d use your pussy, unabashed and downright mean.

“Take it,” he grunts, looking ever the ethereal being above you. If you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was an angel - no, a fallen angel, debauched and with black, wiry wings sprouting from his back. Sweat covers the top of his chest, shiny and wet, and his cockhead presses firmly into the back of your throat. Your eyes water with the intense ministrations on your throat, hands aching to reach out and grab onto Minho’s thighs. They stay securely on your own limbs, and Minho groans, his eyes staring down into yours. “Fucking take it for me. Take my cock, dirty kitty. Don’t you dare fucking cry about it.”

You’d swear he was composed if it wasn’t for the way he was looking down at you. Minho’s mostly quiet in bed, only a few sparse noises, but the fire in his eyes is visible.

The sounds in the room are filthy. Your eyes are hazy already with the force that he’s rutting into your mouth, but when his hand goes into your hair, yanking with all of his might, you hear yourself whine between gags and you’re not even trying to. You’re floating, fuzzy where your boyfriend fucks his cockhead into your mouth - you can’t even consider what’s going on, not too out of it but out of it enough to question what’s actually happening around you. Is this what Minho was talking about before? Subspace?

“Oh, Jesus. Are you feeling fuzzy already, kitty?” He pulls his cock out, tapping the cockhead on your bottom lip. A string of drool attaches his cock back to your mouth and he groans in approval, feline eyes narrowing. “Went down so easy for me, huh? Do you think you can take a little more?”

You’re nodding then, subconsciously, but a slight smile on your face. You want more. You need more. You need his piss, wherever on your body that he deems acceptable - it’s like he’s marking you as his territory. It’s such a primitive act that gets you more than just hot under the collar. If he pisses on you, or in you, it’s as if he sees you as an object that’s beneath him, not worth anything more than his piss.

“Good,” He muses, and then his hand is forming a tight ring around his length. It’s throbbing, long and thick where it protrudes from his groin with drops of pearlescent precum, and he presses it past your lips again with a small sigh. “I’ve gotta take a piss, kitty cat. I want you to swallow it all for me, and then you can have some milk in that pussy for being good. How’s that?”

You can’t reply, because he’s already bouncing your head on his shaft. He’s resorted to pulling you up and down on his shaft by your hair this time, not grinding his hips rhythmically into the hot, wet cavern you’ve provided.

“You know, I really thought you’d say no to this,” How the fuck is his voice calm right now? “But then I realised that of course you’d be into it. My filthy little fucking urinal.”

You moan loudly around his shaft. Minho chuckles, and then he’s pulling back again, your throat abused and aching at the alleviation of pressure. His cockhead stays at the entrance of your mouth, and he drops a hand from your hair to pump it a few times, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It’s coming,” He warns. “Are you ready? Are you ready for my piss, filthy bitch?”

You moan, nodding, and when your tongue lolls out of your mouth, Minho lets out a loud groan. It’s primal, and you watch silently as he shakes his head and flutters his eyes closed to try and gain some control of himself. He runs his finger over the slit of his cockhead, and then he’s pushing the tip past your lips again and - oh.

His piss begins leaking out of his tip, a slow and steady stream that tastes surprisingly a lot like you expected. It’s purely Minho, raw and unfiltered, and you whine and whimper and let him fill your mouth up with his piss. It feels filthy, your pussy positively dripping through your panties and onto the floor by now. The stream floods down your throat even as you continue to gulp it down greedily, and you allow your hands to finally find purchase on his thighs, fingernails digging into the muscle. He allows it, his hands both moving back to your hair to bob you on his tip just a little to get the rest of his piss out.

Minho pulls out of your mouth with a soft noise, his eyes staring down at you almost menacingly. You dip your tongue into his piss-slit once more, moaning at the remnants of the taste, and then you’re whining, loud and un-muffled.

“Minho,” You say, voice high and needy. You feel as though you want to say so much, you want to beg so much, but nothing is coming out of your mouth. You’re so fucking turned on you feel like you could die. “P-Please. Please, please. I can’t, I can’t, please, please-”

He positively growls. You’re pulled up by two hands underneath your armpits and thrown onto the bed less than unceremoniously, his body sidling up next to you. He’s kicked his trousers off, you notice, body warm and firm next to you.

“Was it that good? Dirty little thing,” He hums, tongue licking one fat stripe up your neck. “C’mere. Let me taste it on you.”

Minho’s lips are firm against yours, and his hands are anything but gentle as he slides them down your body. It’s like he’s igniting you with electricity, every area of skin that he touches feeling warm and too sensitive. His lips trail down your neck, leaving another trail of fire behind them. You’re pliant, letting him pull you by your hair and your throat into his dominating, overwhelming kisses.

His fingers reach your panties, and his finger dips underneath the waistband. You gasp, holding your breath and wishing, praying that he’ll push his whole hand into your underwear, but he simply pulls his finger back with a small amused puff of air.

“Hnnfg, Minho, Minho, please, I don’t, I can’t-“

Minho leans over you more then, his eyes dark and half-lidded when he stares into yours. His gaze is all-consuming, but there’s a slight hint of a teasing smile on his lips. “Jesus, kitty. Be quiet,” His voice is low, amused, until all signs of a smile drop from his face upon his fingers finally delving into your underwear. His forearm obscures your vision, muscled and veiny, but you can feel the way your wetness immediately drenches his fingertips. His eyes flicker from your face to your core in awe, lips slightly parted. “Fuckin- shit. Jagi, tell me this is a joke. You’re fucking drenched.”

You are. His fingers smear around in your wetness, spreading it all around your folds. He drags his middle and ring finger down to your hole, wet and sloppy, and you look at him with pleading eyes. You’re not sure you could talk even if you wanted to.

Minho simply smiles that toothy smile that you love, eyes crinkling. You’re confused - he’s being nice - until he’s shoving both fingers into you at once. It was a stretch you hadn't been prepared for, and you jolt with a squeal, hands going up to grip onto his forearm.

“Do you remember what I said before, jagi?” He muses, fingers curling up into that spot that makes you whine. You do whine, legs thrashing around and toes curling against the sheets. “If you have any in there, I’m fucking having it. I want you to piss all over my cock before I fuck you with it, remember? I want you to treat you like the dirty little thing you are.”

You nod, brain still fuzzy and way too overwhelmed. Your pussy squelches loudly around his digits, and his spare hand wraps around your throat in a dangerous grip. It’s not too hard, but definitely there, and you whimper in approval.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the pace he sets against your g-spot, and after a brief, tight squeeze, Minho removes his hand from your throat in favour of using two fingers on your clit along with his harsh fingering. His arm is curled underneath your waist in a position that must be painful to him, but you ignore it in favour of your own pleasure.

You feel like you could scream, and you do let out some strangled noise that sounds nothing at all like you. Just when you think it can’t get any worse - or any better, actually - he slides another finger in, stretching you out with three of his digits. You’re dripping down onto his knuckles and you wail, starting to hump against his hand. You’re going to cum embarrassingly quickly.

“You better be fucking thinking of asking for permission, bitch,” Minho hisses in your ear. You moan in response, nodding. Of course you’ll ask. Something about your boyfriend just makes you want to be good. You want to obey him so he continues to give you such nice things. “You don’t make the decisions. I'm the one fucking that hole with my fingers right now, I'll be the one who says you can cum.”

His fingers thrust into you faster, if it was possible, and you thrash around. The movement brings Minho’s cock against your thigh, and you gasp at the realisation that he’s next to you, naked, in all his glory. Your fingernails still dig painfully into his forearm, but he doesn’t seem phased. “Minho, Minho- I’m gon’- please, please, please, I wanna cum, let me come, it hurts, I-“

“Oh, I know, I know. It just feels too good, doesn’t it? You can’t even fucking control yourself, writhing around like that,” He groans, eyes fixated on your face. You know your expression is screwed up in pleasure, eyes watering from the feeling of his fingers inside of you. His fingers begin to slide around on your clit rather than provide any direct pressure due to how wet you’re getting, but you still hump against the sensation with gratitude. You’d never have anything other than gratitude when Minho’s being so nice like this. “You’re behaving like a fucking whore. Beg me for it. Beg me to let a fucking whore like you cum all over my fingers, tell me how good it feels.”

He starts kissing up your neck again with the open-mouthed, wet movements, and you feel like you’re about to burst. Just a little more. Just a little more, and you can, you just have to will your brain to speak. “I-I love sir's fingers, fuck, I love when sir fingers me like this- fuck, sir I'm gonna- can't hold it- I, hnng, I can’t, I don’t- pleasepleaseplease-”

Minho pulls away from your neck with an alarmed little snort. “Sir? God, you are far gone,” He points out, but then he’s pinching your clit meanly with his fingers. It makes you hump his hand a little faster and whine a little louder. It’s quiet for a beat, and then he’s sighing as if he’s annoyed. You swear you catch him rolling his eyes through your blurry vision. “Okay, fine. Go on then, if you want to cum so badly. Cum.”

With one word, you feel like your whole world is falling apart. A gush of wetness bursts from you and all over the bed, probably soaking Minho too. Your ears are ringing and you can feel the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall, fat streaks of wetness painting your skin. His fingers don’t slow, but he’s groaning in your ear now, coaching you along. He pulls his fingers out, rubbing over your clit with a wet hand that only made you let out another gush everywhere. You were sure you'd screamed.

You wail and thrash through your orgasm, and then you’re panting, body dropping back onto the bed. You don’t register Minho groaning, licking his fingers clean - you only realise he’s moved when he’s on top of you, yanking your soaking wet underwear down your legs and finally unclasping your bra. Your hands go above your head, pliant and willing, letting him take control. You’re fucked dumb by now, anyway. You’d be no use.

“If you had all that in there for me, you have some piss in there,” He muses, and you whine, shaking your head.

“D’nt need to pee, Min,” You insist, head lolling back on the sheets. You’re pliant, and Minho grabs your chin with his hand, making you face him. His ears are burning a shade of delectable pink, the flush travelling over his chest and making him look almost embarrassed. You know this state of Minho all too well, though. He’s so horny he feels like he’s about to explode.

“You do,” He responds, quick as a flash. You whimper as he presses his cockhead into your folds, just barely teasing the ruddy, flushed tip at your hole. Your hands move to grip onto the sheets next to your head, and just when you’re sure he’s going to put it in, Minho leans down, and then his hand is pressing on the bottom of your stomach. You wail, shaking your head. Minho chuckles knowingly. “You need to piss, don’t you?”

You do. Embarrassingly quickly, just from him pressing on your bladder. “I- it’ll make a mess, Min, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I want it to make a fucking mess,” He scoffs, pressing harder. He continues to drag his cock through your sopping wet folds with his other hand, his feline eyes staring at you with a renewed fire burning behind them. He’s daring you to disobey. You would never disobey him. “I want everything you have to give me. Piss all over my cock. Do it.”

You clench your thighs, stomach tensing. It doesn’t take much, only a slight rubbing of Minho’s hand on your tummy and you’re pissing. The stream erupts from you in a messy spurt, and Minho groans, pumping his cock to coat it in your mess. You whine, trying to shift your hips to catch his cock inside of you, but the mess you’re making ensures that it’s too slippery to do so.

“Stay still, you’ll get it in a second,” Minho mumbles, hand tightening around the head of his cock. It’s substantially lubed now, but he still continues to pump it, hand easing up on your stomach. Something about it has your mouth watering, staring at his cock and wondering how it tastes. Maybe he’ll let you suck it clean next time, let you taste his cock mixed with your own piss. “That’s it, kitty. Get sir’s cock nice and wet with your piss. Dirty little thing.”

When the stream finally finishes, you shift against the sheets, soaking wet and definitely a lot more aroused than you were previously. There’s still only one thing on your mind. “Can- can I have it now, please, please?”

Minho nods, his cheeks blazing red. He’s losing his composure. “Yeah. God, yeah, kitty. You can have it, c’mere,” He sighs, finally pushing the head of his cock inside of you. It slides inside easily with the wetness of your pussy and the mess you’d made on him, his thick shaft stretching you out and making you moan out for him. You catch sight of Minho’s eyes rolling back into his head, a long, drawn out noise leaving his lips. “Fuck, this is so fucking dirty. You’re filthy, letting me do this.”

No. You’re not, are you? Are you dirty? “Filthy?” You question, completely in bliss at the feeling of him finally inside you. You’ll be filthy if it means he’ll fuck you. Minho chuckles, and then his hips start to move, a sinuous grind against yours. The noises your pussy is making are beyond debauched, wet, slapping sounds from how soaking wet you are. You whine, bucking your hips up, and Minho lets you, gripping your hips to pull you off of the mattress.

“I’m gonna go harder, okay? I want you to take it for me, all of it,” His voice is close, leaning down to whisper it against the skin of your neck. You nod eagerly, and he pulls your thighs up to rest your ankles on his shoulders. The change in position has his cock hitting you deeper and you gasp, fingers moving to grip on his biceps. He sits back slightly, pulling you closer to him, and then he’s pounding into you. With little to no buildup, you can’t help but squeal, your pussy gushing around his fat length. “You love this, don’t you? My cock, covered in your piss, stretching your little cunt out. You love being filthy for me.”

“Hhnnfg, hhng, Min, Min, Min, you made me pee, you-”

Minho scoffs, hand threading into your hair. He wraps your hair around his fist and pulls, bent half over you while he pounds your pussy into oblivion. “Don’t make stupid fucking excuses for yourself. I can see it in your eyes, you love being like this for me.”

You whine, tears brimming in your eyes again uncontrollably. You can’t do anything but just lay there, pliant and gripping onto his biceps for him to stretch your pussy out with his veiny fucking cock. It feels almost too good, too overwhelming. The ridges of his shaft are pressing against your walls, causing a delectable friction that has you clenching down on every outwards motion from him. It’s as if your pussy doesn’t want him to leave, and you don’t want him to leave, pulling him close by his arms every time he thrusts inside of you.

Minho pushes your thighs apart, and then he’s bending you into a sort of mating press. Your legs rest on his upper biceps and his body folds you in half for him, making you whine at the stretch on your muscles. You’re loud, embarrassingly so, little “ah, ah, ah”’s leaving your mouth with every thrust. The change in position allows him to hit your cervix with his length, long and throbbing inside of you, and you’re only louder and more pathetic for him.

“Can you hear that, kitty cat?” He whispers, and you hold your breath. Once you’ve stopped making so much noise, you can hear it - the sound of your pussy is even louder, wet and messy and when you look down, his cock is soaking with you. With your piss or your slick, you’re not sure, but it has you clenching down deliciously anyway. “I’m fucking your own piss into you, and you’re whining like a little bitch.”

You can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. Your previous slight fuzziness has morphed into full blown floating, and you think you’re crying, but you’re not sure. All you can hear is your own noises, loud and desperate while he ensures your pussy never forgets the shape of his cock. “Ah, ah, I don’t- sir, I don’t, I can’t, I don’t know- ah, oh, I can’t-”

“Ah, fucking hell,” Minho hisses, gritting his teeth. You watch in disappointment as he pulls his cock out of you, forming a tight ring around the base with his fingers. “I need to cum inside you. I need to give you your milk, kitty cat, c’mon. Flip over for me.”

He tells you to do it, but helps you anyway. You feel his hands go to your hips to flip you over, and then you’re face down, and some part of you finds the strength to push your hips up to present your pussy for him. But, milk? You’ve been good enough for that?

He sinks back inside you, his cock slick and fat and too much for your little pussy. “There you go, jagi. Biiig stretch, feel it,” He moans, and you push your hips back on him easily. In this position, your lips are parted and you can feel yourself drooling up a puddle on the sheets. It adds to the mess, filthy with piss and slick and sweat, and you want Minho to lick it all up and spit it in your mouth. He immediately resumes his punishing pace, hips slapping against your ass with every thrust and hitting that delicious spot inside you so well. “Fuckin’ tight pussy, ah, it’s so good.”

“H- haa, Minho, have I been good?” You question, eyes blurry and bottom lip slick with your own spit. Minho groans, deep and loud, reverberating through your whole body. He knows you need reassurance, and he nods, a little smile on his face despite his lust-filled, half-lidded eyes.

“You’ve been so good. So good I’m giving you my cum, yeah? Gonna breed that little pussy, filled it with your piss already, needs my cum now,” He’s babbling, which is a sure sign that he’s close - but you can’t even fathom it in your state. “Little girl, kitty cat, so good for me, c’mere.”

You don’t move, but Minho slinks one hand around your hip to rub at your clit. The added pleasure has you jolting with a whine, and Minho lets out an amused puff of air at your reaction. His fingers slide around your clit wet and imprecise, but it’s enough to have you hurtling towards your second orgasm. His cockhead slams against your g-spot, bordering on painful, but the sensation only adds to the throes of bliss he has you tumbling through.

“Min, Min, Min, it’s- ‘s so good, so good, so big, so- Min, Min, I g’ta-”

“You can cum whenever, jagi. Give it to me, I want it,” His voice is higher, more desperate, and you nod eagerly. He sidles over your back, his sweaty chest pressed to your skin, and then he’s pressing his lips against yours.

It’s less of a kiss and more of a messy exchange of spit and breathing into each other's mouths. Minho’s tongue slides against yours as he continues to rub messy circles around your clit, and before you know it, you’re cumming around his cock with a sharp gasp of pleasure against his lips. He swallows your noises, finally engulfing your mouth with his, and you moan and sigh freely through gushing all over his length, the electric feeling making your toes curl.

Minho envelops your hair tightly with his spare hand, thrusting harder and faster, his breathing becoming ragged as he approaches his climax. With a broken whine, you feel his cum fill you up, thick and hot and heavy.

He flops on top of you with a sigh, his body weight a welcome presence for you. You ignore the feeling of the sheets beneath you in favour of closing your eyes and humming contentedly. You’re still floating, but it’s calmer now, softer. It feels like you’re on a cloud. “So good, Min.”

“Yeah?” Minho grins, his hand now stroking softly through your hair in favour of yanking on it. “You did so good for me, jagi. You were so, so good, made me cum so hard.”

“You made me cum hard, too,” You respond, opening one eye to see his face over your shoulder. His cheeks are flushed, hair sweaty and floppy over his eyes, but he has a blissed out smile on his face. When he catches sight of you looking at him, he smiles, and the sight of his bunny teeth has your heart singing. How can he look so cute after fucking you like that? Before you can say anything else, you yawn, and Minho giggles. “‘M sleepy.”

“Bath first, jagi,” He coos, kissing your hairline. “My sweet girl. Let’s get you nice and clean and then we’ll nap.”

“Mm, okay,” Minho hops off of you and you stretch out leisurely like a cat, your body sticky and defiled. You hear him tinkering around the room behind you, humming a tune to himself, and you smile fondly. “Love you, Min.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

#juno's fics ♡#lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho fanfiction #lee know x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #PISS!

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explorevenus · 8 days

Text

doll parts ♡ leon kennedy x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 3.6k

description: leon may not take the best care of himself, but he certainly takes care of you. it's his favorite pastime.

tags/warnings: vendetta leon, established relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dollification, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), mirror sex

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my lovely bestie @dollfacefantasy, who knows me so well in that she knew i was foaming at the mouth for an excuse to write dollification w leon >:3 AND it's based off of that one scene in euphoria where nate dresses cassie up LIKE GET OUTTA TOWNNNNN I WAS SO JUICED TO WRITE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

You were mad. You were so mad, all the time lately, and you were past the point of wondering if you had any right to be.

It was late, nearly half past midnight, the only sound in the dim house being the unrelenting patter of fat raindrops on the windows. Leon, too, was late, like he so often was. Of course, you weren’t allowed to complain or ask questions about his high paying job, or his whereabouts, or the secrecy, where all those injuries came from or why he didn’t return when he said he would for the hundredth time.

All your life, you thought relationships like this existed only in fiction, the trope of the distant workaholic who dismisses his partner’s concerns with nothing but his wallet and his sexual prowess, piling diamond encrusted bandages upon months worth of neglect, bottled up grievances and novels left unsaid. It was a concept confined to old movies and paperbound romances as far as you were concerned, before you met Leon.

You weren’t unreasonable, and you weren’t dumb. You had gathered that his mysterious government job really was important and strictly confidential, and you trusted that he was telling you as much of the truth as was permitted by the powers that be. You knew he cared about you, you knew he would rather be home with you than running around at the beck and call of the most powerful people in the country. You knew it was never his intention to hurt you.

But your awareness of his love for you didn’t make it any easier to swallow the unending cycle of broken promises, nor the visible deterioration of his mental and physical health while his ‘work trips’ became increasingly frequent until they all started to just blend together.

You became numb to it after a while. It seemed selfish to demand his time and attention when he couldn’t help his circumstances. Even bringing it up made you feel like a monster, and it was all because you loved him so completely.

And you loved him so completely. You had seen him cry with laughter and sob with grief. You had seen him burn toast, fall asleep with the TV on, forget how to tie a tie, dread a mundane phone call, mumble to himself when he thought no one was listening. You knew his philosophies on life and love and death, you knew him heart and soul, and so too did he know you.

Thus, you just ate it, wore yourself down until you finally accepted that all those bottled up grievances, novels left unsaid and extravagant bribes were worth the privilege of being his lover.

Your eyes felt dry as you stared at the clock, counting in your tired mind exactly how many hours had passed since he was supposed to be home. It had been a long, rough day that would have been draining enough on its own, but the evening proved to disappoint even further.

Leon heard about the karmic disaster that was your day through a handful of rant texts you’d sent over the course of it, each one more unfortunate than the last. Sympathetic to your senseless string of rotten luck, he promised to cut away from work an hour early to return home to you with your favorite dinner and enough doting on to make your teeth rot. He did not, of course, come home early, and not only that, but he didn’t come home at all, and you couldn’t get ahold of him.

If this wasn’t such a frequent occurrence, you might have been more worried about his safety, or even more angry at him for leaving you hanging on a day like this one, but you had become so familiar with this whole song and dance that your feelings around it were dulled.

You were just about to give up and go to bed when your phone lit up with a notification. Following the several undelivered texts you tried to send asking if he was okay, he’d given a simple response that you knew would redirect the course of your whole entire night.

Headed home in 15. Be in the dollhouse

You had long since garnered that the dollhouse was more for him than it was for you, even if he seemed to believe it was the other way around. It was nice to be pampered and doted on and styled like a Barbie, until it became a way for him to avoid talking to you about anything important. But that was neither here nor there. Dolls don’t talk, and they most certainly don’t complain.

With a deep, measured breath you exited the bedroom and turned down the hall, to what used to be a spare room but was now more aptly describable as a boudoir. The door creaked open to reveal the delicate, feminine space, heavy satin drapes blocking out any potential prying eyes. Between two solid oak wardrobes was an ornate standing mirror, the walk-in closet to the right overflowing with opulent clothing that hardly ever saw the light of day, just the familiar warmth of Leon’s cerulean eyes.

At the other end of the room was an antique, three-mirror vanity, stocked carefully with luxury makeup, designer perfumes and every last tool one might need to style your hair, down to a box of satin ribbons in every color with which to tie it back. Leon was never one to do things half-way, and dolling you up was no exception.

Piece by piece, you stripped yourself of your clothes, hands moving as slowly and purposefully as his own would, as if by instinct. Just like a doll would be, you undressed to nothing but a pair of delicate lace panties, and you took your place at the vanity, your posture straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap.

All there was left to do now was wait for Leon, to stare at yourself blankly in the mirror and ruminate, to let your thoughts scream and echo around in your head until it would all collapse into silence, putting you in the proper headspace of an empty-headed little Barbie for Leon to play with.

You didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the garage door opening, or move a muscle at all at the muffled thudding of his footsteps ascending the stairs. Your lips parted with a slow, deep breath, your posture straightening up one final time before the knob turned, and you watched the door open behind you through the reflection in the mirror.

He looked tired. To be candid, he looked like shit. It was evident he had left immediately from whatever dangerous, world-saving thing he was doing to rush home to you, not taking the time to change or freshen up.

Leon approached you gently, reaching over your shoulder to let his rough fingers cup your neck and throat, tilting your head up just enough to make you look at yourself, and to adjust your posture.

“Such a precious little doll, sitting so pretty for daddy,” He whispered, stooping down to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. His hands smelled like iron and gunpowder, and his breath smelled faintly of malted liquor poorly masked with mint. If only you could have confronted him about it. You just swallowed, staring straight ahead where he was directing your gaze.

Reaching over your shoulder, Leon’s steady hand plucked a detangling brush from the vanity, running his fingers through your hair carefully with his other hand. He felt through the length of your soft locks, mindful as always not to tug at any of the little knots he discovered here and there. Shortly after, he was running the brush through your hair with gentle veneration, delicate, even strokes that nearly threatened to put you to sleep.

Leon watched your expression in the mirror as your lashes fluttered, your head lolling back as if mindlessly chasing the attention. A low chuckle fell from his parted lips. “Feels good, huh? I’ll bet it does. Your hair is so messy, baby… You weren’t playing by yourself all day while daddy was gone, were you?”

He was teasing you. A subtle grin begged to tug at your lips, and you let it. Still, you were sure to shake your head ‘no’-- after all, you couldn’t have him thinking you had taken advantage of his extended absence to be naughty, even if you had been awfully tempted to.

Carding his fingers through your freshly brushed hair, he hummed in mock consideration for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed you. Finally, he turned you around in your chair to face him, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “I know my baby would never. Always the perfect princess for me, even when I’m not always the perfect daddy.”

That last part came out a little quieter, like he was ashamed to even say it out loud, but somehow still, it was the loudest part to you. You softened.

He noticed, and he, too, softened. The tension in the air dissipated a bit– it was still somewhere around here, likely waiting right outside the door, but it was no longer actively present, at least. Leon gave you another sweet kiss, this one to your forehead, before gently correcting your posture again.

Pushing your hair back with a soft, fluffy headband, he opened up one of the drawers in the vanity and began to take a few things out. First, a light moisturizer, which he massaged into your skin with a jade roller that was cool to the touch and just as relaxing as always. Your moisturizer was followed by a gentle under-eye balm, a thin layer of primer and a hydrating lip oil.

The way he moved was so fluid, so methodical, like a conductor before an orchestra, and you were his masterpiece. In Leon’s eyes, you might as well have been carved out of the finest, most expensive marble, and you were to be treated no less delicately.

He stepped out just for a moment to wash his hands, a clean slate for the next step of the process, your makeup.

You honestly don’t know how he did it. Judging by some of the techniques and products he would use, you could only guess he must have been doing his research online or something, though where he found the time to do so was another question entirely. His lines weren’t always clean, his blending wasn’t always perfectly smooth, yet somehow you always still felt he’d managed to upstage you with the finished product– perhaps it was because he could see you in a way you couldn’t see yourself.

“Daddy?” You chanced a whisper, but he was quick to press a finger to the plush of your lips, ever so gently.

“Shh… Just sit nice and still for me, alright, sugar?”

You nodded, and he resumed his work with a careful touch.

Soft brushes and plush sponges worked their way around the surface of your face, applying shadow and powders and liner, with Leon holding his breath now and then to ensure a steady hand. Your cheeks were rouged, your lips were glossed, your lashes were carefully curled and it was all topped off with a cooling mist of setting spray and a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“There you are, hm? My beautiful baby dolly,” He mused, reaching forward to tilt your head up by your chin, then to the left, then to the right, checking over his handiwork from every angle. Adding a dash of blush to the tip of your nose, he deemed your makeup complete. “Just perfect.”

Slowly, Leon turned your chair around again, allowing you to look at yourself, and yeah. Wow.

You looked gorgeous, you were glowing even. All of your best features were adorned with purposeful swipes of blush, shade and highlight, your eyes dreamy and sweet, your skin smooth and radiant. He let you look at yourself for a moment, just admiring the expression of awe on you– you were always exceptionally stunning, of course, but you looked all the sweeter in these sacred moments in which you recognized your own beauty.

Leon rested one hand on your shoulder to recapture your attention, his other hand coming forward to stroke your cheek. Your long lashes fluttered as you met his eyes in the mirror, a silent signal that your focus had returned to him. Now the hand that caressed your cheekbone was coming forward to take your own. He helped you up from your seat at the vanity and across the room, to the plush chaise lounge in front of that standing mirror.

The room filled with the quiet noises of rummaging, Leon sifting through drawers and racks of hangers stuffed with what had to have been thousands of dollars worth of designer, a stark contrast to his own attire of largely plain black shirts and jeans that had seen better days.

But you were his princess. Leon was just Leon, and Leon couldn’t possibly deserve as much as a princess.

Turning over his shoulder, Leon approached you with a simple pair of white stockings in hand, sinking to his knees right before the chaise lounge to put them on you. Your ankle looked so slight and delicate in his strong hand as he lifted your leg, drawing a line of kisses up the inside of your calf to follow while he rolled the stocking up higher and higher, until the hem reached just above your knee.

He repeated the action with your other leg, the movement of his hands fluid and practiced, but his breaths were becoming shorter, his kisses a little wetter and needier on your skin. Your own breaths were quickly falling in sync with his own just by watching him dial in on your sex, his calloused hands propping your legs up onto his shoulders so he could shuffle closer.

Gripping you by the hips to angle you up to his liking, he buried his nose into the seat of your thin lace panties and breathed you in deep, as though he were starving for oxygen. The tip of his nose nuzzled forward to brush your panties aside, and just as soon as your slit was bared to him, his tongue was darting out to taste it.

He spread it flat in a slow, languid stripe from your weeping hole all the way to your throbbing clit, his lips closing around the little bundle of nerves to coax it from beneath its hood. You sucked in a breath, your manicured nails printing into the lush material of the furniture you were perched on, trying as hard as you could to keep quiet and still, to allow him to guide you, to play with you as he so desired. Luckily, he wasn’t in too stern of a mood this evening anyway– you weren’t likely to be reprimanded for small errors like that, especially not while he was otherwise occupied.

“Fuck,” He growled lowly into your cunt, leaving white prints where he gripped your pillowy thighs just to ground himself. You could feel his body growing warm as he lost himself in you, lapping up every drop of your arousal with greed. For just a moment, his dilated, denim eyes flicked up to look at you, his rosy cheeks gently squished between your quaking thighs as he puffed out, “Just look at you, my dolly… Daddy’s favorite little toy…”

Your eyes screwed shut with pleasure as his hot mouth met your center again, and when they fluttered open, you caught sight of it all in the mirror. It nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your dainty legs spread out over your gruff boyfriend’s broad shoulders, adorned in delicate white stockings that looked pure and bright against his tight black t-shirt; his sandy blonde hair damp and messy as he wedged himself between your thighs and drank from you like a fountain; your hair and makeup fit for a gala as your expression contorted with rapture… it could have been an oil painting.

Every swipe of his tongue up the length of you, every flutter along your swollen bud, every deep, wanton, needy groan had your eyes rolling back in your head, your thighs trembling and tightening around his jaw. Every inch of you felt featherlight with electricity as he worked his magic on you, more than capable of making you cum in three minutes flat, but opting not to for the fun of it.

Not that you were complaining. At times he could get carried away in his teasing, but tonight was not one of those nights. Leon wasn’t going to waste your time dangling you over the edge much longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as he noticed you were having trouble sitting still, quiet whines and sighs of pleasure occasionally slipping out from between your glossy lips, he knew it would be unfair to string you along any further.

Leon was practically making out with your folds, the room quiet aside from the slick sounds and lustful whimpers that accompanied his dining of you. Soon it was joined with the low, husky timbre of his voice as he groaned into you, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a pretty mess all over daddy’s face?”

In all honesty, you barely registered his words, but all it ever took to get you nodding like a bobblehead was that upward lilt in his tone that indicated he was asking you something. That was all you needed to know that the correct answer was yes.

Smirking briefly to himself as he witnessed your eager and rapt approval, he doubled the intensity of his efforts, his hands wrenching tight into your thighs to pull you flush against his face, but more importantly, to keep you from wriggling away. He didn’t bother to shush you when a shocked yelp bubbled out of you, your body jerking in response to the added stimulation. After all, it was the response he was expecting, and the response he yearned for.

Your shaking hands darted forward to claw at his hair, half-lidded eyes catching your reflection in the mirror once more. Your skin was warm, your breasts heaving as your spine drew into a fine arch and your lips parted to gasp in all the oxygen you could get to your dizzy brain, heels digging into the prominent muscles in his back. He felt every quiver and twitch of your muscles and it only spurred him on. He ate you up like you were his last meal.

Your vision went white as your climax crashed over you hard– the sounds he made were obscene, a satisfied groan vibrating from deep in his chest at the syrupy sweet taste of your arousal. It was an essence he couldn’t possibly get enough of.

As you laid there panting, your legs shaking after the tension in them released, Leon’s eyes dragged up the length of your body with pride. He carefully pulled your panties back into place with a sweet kiss to the bow in the center of them and an affectionate pat to the thigh.

“There’s a good girl,” He hummed, crawling up from between your legs to kiss you, his mouth still warm and slightly slick with your own spend. “A perfect little doll. All I have to do is pull the right strings to get you to sing for me, huh, princess?”

Once more, you nodded, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment as he kissed your forehead. Then, he stood to his full height again, one hand taking yours and the other steadying you by the dip of your waist as he raised you up to join him, wobbly knees be damned. After all, he wasn’t finished playing dress-up yet. He took a moment to ensure you had regained your balance enough to be able to stand without assistance before opening up one of the wardrobes in search of the remainder of your outfit.

Moments like these only piqued your curiosity in terms of how his brain worked. Sure, you’d been dating for a long time and it was safe to say you knew him quite well, but his penchant for compartmentalization never ceased to astound you. He possessed the sometimes frightening ability to just switch his brain from one mode to the next.

You were brought back to reality once more by the feeling of his lips on your neck. He murmured into your ear, “Arms up, darlin’,” and he barely even finished saying it before you were complying.

You lifted your arms, and he slipped a new dress over your head. There it was, the compensation for being home late, for dropping off the face of the Earth again. The dress was flattering and soft, a delicate blush pink color with embroidered details along the bust and white lace hemming. He drew up the zipper without resistance, and as it reached its apex, the fabric hugged your form perfectly, as though the garment itself was made with you in mind.

Leon kneeled down to straighten out your stockings, and then the skirt of your dress, his eyes scanning over you meticulously in search of any little imperfections that might need fixing. Finding none, he wandered over to where he’d left his jacket, fishing a baby blue box out of the pocket. You had become quite familiar with that blue lately– Tiffany.

Nestled in the slender box was a dainty diamond necklace that now rested right at your collarbones, the clasp in the back secured with a smooch. He carded his fingers through your hair one last time before turning you around to look at yourself in the mirror, his hands rested on your hips, head stooped low to smother the crook of your throat in kisses.

“What do you think?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling gently at the shell.

“Beautiful,” You replied just as quietly, “Thank you, daddy.”

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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ichimakesart · 4 months

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Commission for @sheeshiki

Thank you so much for commissioning me☆♡☆

~☆◇Prints◇☆~▪︎~☆◇Commissions◇☆~▪︎~☆◇Kofi◇☆~▪︎~☆◇For inquiries: [email protected]◇☆~

#ichi makes art #art #digital art #illustration #fantasy art #digital illustration #drawings #animation #bugs #gifs #gif warning #animated gifs #moths #ffxiv #ff14 #miqo'te

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zu-is-here · 3 months

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Commission for @madness-of-void ✧ Thank you a lot for supporting me! (๑>◡<๑)♡

Nightmare(s) by jokublog

#zu art #zu commissions #nightmare!sans #passive!nightmare #undertale #undertale au #utmv #the future and the past... (´；ω；`)#such a touching idea I was flattered to embody *^*

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mafuwara · 3 months

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11/18: The Good Ending

commission for @cyanide-e-pistachio! Thank you for commissioning me (⌒▽⌒)♡

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lovesick-rambles · 2 months

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The Garden

commission for: @flirtypidge

summary: The Doctor surprises Pidge with a trip to one of their dream destinations and times

word count: 2k

author's note: PIDGE thank you so much for commissioning me! This was such a sweet plot :,)

divider credit: gigittamic

This afternoon started off with the Doctor yanking Pidge by the arm and happily telling them to follow him. They knew he had some sort of scheme up their sleeve but he refused to answer any questions asked about it. The Doctor was very particular about what information he did and didn’t share with them, continually saying how they wanted to keep it a surprise. Then, he pulled them into the TARDIS and excitedly babbled about how excited Pidge was going to be once they arrived where they were going. He was so excited that he was basically bouncing off of the walls.

“What on Earth are you planning?” They finally asked, their curiosity getting the best of them.

The Doctor scoffed playfully, “The best part of a surprise is not knowing what it is until you get it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but-!” Before they could finish that thought, the Doctor covered their eyes with his hands.

“Don’t ask me any more questions! If you continue, I might give in and spill every detail. I don’t want to ruin the fun!” He laughed.

What else could Pidge do but go along with whatever he had planned in that head of his? They chuckled quietly and waited patiently for him to remove his hands whenever they were ready to. Finally, after what felt like hours but really was just a few minutes, the Doctor removed his hands and sang out a “Tada!” once they both exited the TARDIS.

“Oh…Oh wow,” they sighed, their jaw hanging open slightly.

The scenery before them was absolutely glorious. There was a beautiful garden full of lovely, colorful flowers leaning their faces towards the sun. The air smelled warm and sweet and the sun around them was a golden yellow. The temperature was just perfect, too. Everything around them was just so perfect. They felt tears welling up in their eyes and blinked rapidly to try to keep it together.

“Do you like it?” They asked, grinning still, “I have a standing invitation from the Claude Monet and I knew exactly who I wanted to be my plus one! How do you like it?”

They couldn’t believe their eyes. This all felt like a dream. A wonderful, sweet dream.

France.

He took them to France. Giverny, France specifically. Somewhere they had always wanted to go. They couldn’t remember when they had mentioned that to the Doctor but he seemed to since he made the effort to invite them too.

Pidge’s dark eyes sparkled as they stood there, awestruck. Then, they registered that the Doctor asked them a question, sniffled a little and then nodded. His words went in one ear and out the other because they were so invested in the world around them. They gave him a teary eyed look and choked out a thank you before quickly wiping away the tears that threatened to spill.

The Doctor hastily pulled out a handkerchief from their pocket to give to Pidge and went to comfort them, worrying he did something wrong.

“No, no!” They reassured him, “I’m just…I’m so happy! This is so darling of you, thank you.”

They looked at them with wide eyes before bursting out in laughter. His laugh was boisterous and it echoed across the land, turning a few heads. He then pulled Pidge into a tight hug, whispering in their ear, “I’m glad you like it.”

The pair stayed tightly nestled in each other’s arms like that for a few minutes but it felt like hours to them. It felt…right. Almost like they belonged there near his chest.

Suddenly, Pidge pulled away and gasped, “Wait! Hold on, I’ll be right back!”

Before The Doctor could say anything more, they ran off and found somewhere to hide. He stood there, dumbfounded, but waited like they told them to. It felt weird for them to wait around like that until Pidge finally reappeared before him.

Pidge excitedly spun around in their new outfit and beamed at him. They finally had an excuse to wear a day dress and they were going to take full advantage of that. It was a simple, pastel blue dress with short, flowy sleeves. The color suited them very nicely. Pidge also put their hair up to go with their new look.

The Doctor stared at them, wide eyed. This change of clothes was a surprise to them since Pidge usually opted to dress in a more androgynous way. They looked absolutely stunning to him either way and he had difficulty tearing his eyes away from them. They just looked so lovely. Even lovelier than the flowers they were about to go see.

“Oh, my. You…” The Doctor had to recompose himself before finishing their sentence, “You look stunning.”

Pidge giggled and casted their gaze to their shoes, feeling flustered at his kind compliment. They felt a little embarrassed, actually, but not in a bad way. They wanted the Doctor to think they looked good but to hear his thoughts out loud made them a little sheepish.

“Thank you,” they thanked him quietly, having a hard time mustering up the courage to speak louder.

“Looks like you’re finally matching me!” They joke, trying to relieve some of the tension they were feeling.

They laughed and playfully shoved him, “Shush! You were just complimenting me and now you’re picking on me!”

The Doctor beamed, “I can’t help it. You just look so cute! Now, shall we?”

He gestured towards the garden and dramatically bowed a little to play into his act. Pidge rolled their eyes and nodded, linking their arm with his. Touching him made their heart beat like crazy but they kept a calm composure. With that, they headed into the glorious garden while making polite small talk. The flowers were in full bloom and in glorious, vibrant colors. It was all so beautiful and it almost seemed too lovely to be real. Pidge wasn’t entirely paying attention to the greenery, though.

They were too busy being enamored with the Doctor. He was off in his own world, babbling about whatever he was passionate about at the moment. They were happy to have Pidge be his captive audience. All he was saying went in one ear and out the other with them but it was okay. Pidge was getting lost in how excited the Doctor was getting. It was so endearing how happy he got when discussing such things. If anyone were to see the look on their face right now, it would be apparent that they were in love with them. They looked at him like he created this beautiful garden himself and so much more.

He suddenly noticed Pidge’s silence and looked at them, “Is everything alright? You look a little…Dazed?”

Their eyes widened before they hid their face in their hands, “Sorry,”

“No, no! Don’t be! I was just curious!” The Doctor reassured them, “Were you staring at me?”

“Maybe,” they quietly muttered, their face burning intensely.

They chuckled softly and stopped walking, taking their hand in his, “You can tell me anything, you know. I’m just checking in on you.”

Pidge nodded, their words bubbling in their throat. If they say something now, there is no telling if they’d be able to stop–

“You really don’t wanna tell me anything?” He teased, “I promise, I don’t bite–”

“I love you!”

The words just slipped out. They didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. In fact, Pidge had a better plan for when they wanted to confess to him. An embarrassed silence fell between them and the pair had a hard time looking each other in the eyes for a while. Then, suddenly, the Doctor wrapped his arms around them and enveloped them in a tight hug.

“H-Huh?” Pidge asked, shocked.

“I’m so happy you feel the same!” They laugh, spinning them around in his arms.

He pulled their head to his chest and squeezed Pidge tightly. They melted into the Doctor’s arms and finally hugged him back, burying their face into his jacket. Pidge’s heart was pounding but they felt so relaxed after blurting out a love confession. It felt good to not keep it in anymore.

“I’m…” They laughed, not being able to contain their overwhelming emotions anymore, “I’m so glad.”

The Doctor cupped their face in his hands and peppered light kisses on their cheek, “Please, to use ‘glad’ is an understatement. I am ecstatic. Over the moon. Amazed. Bewildered. I am–” “I get it!” They giggled, “I’m all of those things too! I’m just at a loss for words!”

“Well,” he held his arm out again, “Why don’t we make up for lost time, hmm? Play a little catch-up? Let’s finally make this a romantic date.”

Pidge collected their bearings and linked their arm with theirs again, “What a lovely suggestion. I think that is a fantastic idea.”

“Lead the way!” They pointed ahead and let Pidge guide him through the garden.

Somehow, the flowers that surrounded them seemed to be much brighter now. Even more beautiful than before if that was even possible. The sun’s golden light felt a little warmer. All the colors of the plants looked more vibrant and like someone painted them special. It all felt more like a fairy tale since they confessed their feelings for one another. Pidge was convinced that they were transported into a storybook and that this was their perfect happy ending.

The wonderful thing about this, though, was that this was far from the end. No, the both of them realizing that they loved each other to heaven and back was only the beginning. They now had the entire world at their fingertips and they could explore it as a couple. Frankly, neither of them could wait to spend the rest of time together.

Pidge looked away for a moment to take in the scenery. This garden was just too gorgeous to ignore. As they were staring at a flower next to them, the Doctor sneakily kissed them on the cheek, making them jump.

“Sorry, sorry!” He laughed, stroking their cheek with his thumb, “I can’t help it. You just look too cute.”

Their face turned pink and they looked away, embarrassed, “You’re making me all flustered…”

“Hmm? What was that?” They teased, grinning, “You’re flustered you say? Well, that just makes you even cuter!”

He snuck in a few more kisses until Pidge was a sheepish, giggling mess. The way the Doctor kissed them tickled and their squeals of delight encouraged him to do it more. He also tangled his hair in their thick, dark hair to gently pull them closer to him. All he wanted to do right now was try to make up for lost time. The Doctor couldn’t even remember how long he had secretly wanted to do this with them. For so long, they have wanted to know how it would feel to kiss Pidge. How their hand felt in his. The way they would react to their hugs and the noises they would make when kissed. Now, all of those questions had been answered and he couldn’t be happier. Of course, they were also excited to learn more about the things that were still hidden, too. The Doctor wanted to know absolutely everything about his beloved Pidge.

“Isn’t this all just so lovely?” They asked him, turning to the scenery once again.

He smiled at them, not looking away, “Yeah, you are.”

“You-!” They covered their face with their hands, giggling uncontrollably.

They pulled them close again and muttered quietly, “Say, wanna get out of here? I think we have a little more…catching up to you. In private. I’m sure these lovely patrons are getting tired of my PDA.”

Pidge’s face got warm and they agreed, excited to spend some domestic, down time with their new lover. The couple took one more lap around the luxurious garden, soaking in some last sights before running off to the TARDIS, snickering to themselves the entire time. They were so excited for their next adventure together.

#commissions ♡#my writing #writing commissions #comms open #self ship commissions #thank you for commissioning me!

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