#a very pretty fat young man you know
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Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]
You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.
CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.
FIRST PART (can be read separately)
AO3
— Why your wife left you, again?
You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad.
You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good.
— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi?
He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous.
He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there.
— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know.
— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger.
— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage.
— You’re too young to stop believing in it.
— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir.
— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja?
König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him.
If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him.
— Could you two please stop fucking each other?
— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.
— This is my house too!
— Not on the documents, it’s not.
— You can’t just throw me away, dad!
— Your new stepmom needs her space.
König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig.
König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement.
— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age!
— And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her.
— She is my girlfriend!
— Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option.
You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time.
Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge.
König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention.
If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention.
His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something.
— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son.
He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing.
König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .
He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends.
But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are.
— I don’t think we should be…
— He left. Won’t bother us anymore.
— I’m not in the mood right now.
— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy.
— You’re a pervert. Like Paul.
— He takes on after his father, ja?
It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other.
König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did.
You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts.
— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.
— I assume after…af..ter your wife.
You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both.
— Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you.
— I’m not dumb!
— Nein, you’re not. Just silly.
— You just call me a different type of dumb.
— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter.
König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this.
He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street.
— I want to take you to the Summer house next week.
You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one.
— What if I have plans, sir?
It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him.
He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good.
— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer.
— I wanted to study.
You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him.
— You can study at our house.
— You mean you and your ex’s house.
He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again.
You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again.
— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying.
— I want a nice job. Without…distractions.
He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s.
— Why you need a job?
— Not everyone are retired military. I need money.
— You have me.
— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir.
— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.
König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost.
You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone.
König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later.
Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then…
— What do you think about getting married in August?
Maybe, you do know why his wife left him.
#cod#konig x reader#konig#yandere konig#cod x reader#call of duty#yandere cod#cod x you#fem reader#konig cod#konig x you
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Hot Tatted Uncle Pt.2 (Uncle!SukunaAu x Teacher!Reader)
Thanks so much for the love and support on pt.1 you guys are the besttt lol, honestly might be a 3 parter we'll see! ANyway, enjoy :0
Also pleaseee excuse any spelling errors yall
Link to Pt.1
PART THREE HERE!!!
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You stared at the text message, throat tight with excitement but dread. It had been a few months since the last incident with Yuji and his Uncle. The roguish male often picked up the young boy, tagging along with Yuji’s father. You’d usually just give Jin a rundown of his son’s day, ever so often catching Sukuna’s gaze as he leaned against the door frame. And every time it happened, you’d choke, clearing your throat and focusing your attention on Yuji and his father.
It didn’t help that he was always texting you, asking his his nephew was behaving. Even though it was cordial and polite, you still felt giddy getting texts from him.
This comes to the next point, why you’re sitting here practically gawking over the most recent message request from Yuji’s father.
-YOU HAVE A NEW MESSAGE:
Hello Miss Y/n! Do you babysit? I know Yuji loves having you as a teacher and I was wondering if you’d be interested in babysitting for him along with his Uncle while me and my wife go on vacation. Of course, you will be paid as well.
-Jin Itadori @ 6:28pm-
You wait to open it, pacing for a moment, thinking, first of all if you were available for the weekend and second, why couldn’t his uncle handle it?!
Well, given the man’s track record maybe an experienced hand in childcare could be useful. With a heavy sigh, you respond and you'd have to quickly come to terms with the fact that you would be essentially babysitting over 2 days with your students' hot uncle.
-----------
It's Friday now, and arrangements for you to simply drive Yuji back home and meet up there with his uncle were already in place. You were trusted with a spare house key, and their precious baby boy, who so seemed to be happier than a fly on shit that you would be spending even MORE time with him.
You gather your things and a few activities to pass the time, loading them into your car. Yuji insists on helping, carrying a small container of building blocks with his chubby hands. And god damn does he not stop talking while he does. It's adorable really, whatever comes off the top of the boy's head simply flying free.
"My-My uh uncle, he doesn’t have no girlfriend." He speaks, the statement making you choke.
"Ahaha is that so? He tells you to say that?" You joke, setting the pink-haired toddler in his car seat, and buckling him in with ease.
"MHM! My uh-" He coughs, quickly covering it with his elbow as you give a small 'good job' seeing as he's learning to keep his germs away from everyone, including you.
"My Uncle says uh he says that you got pretty eyes." He explains, your heart fluttering.
You sit in the driver seat finally, the boy still rambling on and on about what his uncle thinks about you. Though all you can do is respond with a simple, "Oh that's very kind, or a awee", Yuji is nonstop.
It’s quiet for a moment and as you’re pulling into the driveway when he says it, clear as day.
"Uncle says your ass is fat too."
You slam the brakes, the car jerking a bit when you do. What. The. FUCK-
The culprit is already awaiting you, arms folded over his chest as they flex. He’s got a white tank top on and a pair of black basketball shorts paired with slides and ankle socks.
Yuji squirms, growing ever more excited as Sukuna takes him out of the car seat and lightly jabs his knuckles to the boy's sides with a 'Rahhhh', as if he were some kind of tickle monster. Yuji of course laughs and if ALMOST makes you forget about what he'd just said a moment ago.
"Wanna help Miss Y/n put this inside?" Sukuna asks the small boy, handing him the block container from before. Yuji is quick to nod and scurry to the front door.
"I can bring the rest of this, Jin gave you the housekey right?" He asks, leaning against the frame of the car, your neck snapping towards him as you swallow thickly. Fuck you can see even more of the tats now in that shirt.
"U-Uhm yes, yes. I'll go get the door. I can get some of this too I-" You speak, fumbling to find the key. He only puts his hand up and shakes his head, the silver chain around his swishing a bit.
"Nah I gotchu. Yuji knows how to turn the TV on so he can watch his lil show for a bit.”
Sure enough, the minute you unlock the door, Yuji crawls atop the couch, using the remote to try his best to navigate. It takes a while, and he mispresses a few buttons but after about 5 minutes he manages to play something entertaining for him.
Sukuna had finished bringing your bags in as well as the one with activities in it, setting it on the stairs. He rolls his shoulder, pointing at Yuji who was immersed in the show.
"See." Sukuna hums, leaning against the countertop next to you, also skimming over the note. His body heat is practically radiating off of him, just standing by him is warming you up.
You nod in response, looking over the brief note Jin left for you both and according to what it said, your next step was to head up some leftovers for Yuji and then run him a bath.
"There’s two bathrooms so I can get the boy.” He offers, resting his hand behind his neck as you give a nervous laugh. FUCK this nervousness was most likely only on you. There’s no way he could be just as filled with anticipation as you were?!
You take the offer, giving a small thank you before fishing the shower and taking one considering you did just get off of work. Packed away in your bag was a set of comfortable clothes and a book with you figured would help pass the time once Yuji went to sleep.
You could hear footsteps and Yuji fussing back and forth with his Uncle.
“Hush man you’re making me look bad.” Sukuna groans, throwing the toddler over his shoulder as he giggles but continues to thrash, pounding tiny fists against the older male's back.
“No! NO BATH! I don’t wanna!” Yuji whines, his Uncle only growling in response.
“I’ll give you candy if you stop.”
And just like that it was quiet.
-8:30pm-
The night had gone smoother than you thought, you and Sukuna both interacting with Yuji as it’s beginning to be time to wind down. His eyes were beginning to get heavy and before you knew it he was slumped against the couch, clutching an unfinished sucker in one hand and a white puppy plush in the other. You smile, scooping him up and patting him when he stirs.
“Be right back, let me tuck him in.” You whisper, seeing Sukuna look up from his phone and nod, one arm slung over the sofa while he practically manspreads
-9:00pm-
Turns out, Yuji took a bit longer to fall asleep when he realized he was being put down and so you had to sit and pat him for an extra 30 minutes. And once you returned to the living room, there was Sukuna, still scrolling. Well, that was until you came in.
“Sorry, he wouldn’t go back to sleep.” You explain, sitting at the farthest end from him, picking up your book in the silence.
“So you like working up there? At the school?” He asks, putting his phone down to hold the conversation with you.
It takes you by surprise for a second but you are quickly to respond.
“Well yeah, I love the kids and I love working there and teaching them things. Yuji is a sweetheart and it’s definitely kids like him that make it all worth it.” You explain, a smile making its way to your lips.
“You got kids?” He asks, eyes on your frame as you laugh a bit in response
“Nah, don’t really plan on it right now either. Kids are difficult.” You answer, now facing him a bit more, body relaxed.
What was there to be so scared of?! He’s a chill guy who just so happened to be hot as fuck asking you about your career and life?!
“How about you? Kids? Working?” You flip, seeing him shift a bit uncomfortably.
“Hell nah. I see how Jin deals with Yuji and I’m not really cut you to be a dad. And for work well, I’m a priest.” He states, smirking at the surprised look on your face.
“R-Really??” You question definitely surprised.
“Nah I’m just fucking with you.” He laughs and you do the same, trying to keep your volume down since Yuji did just fall asleep.
-11:08pm-
It was crazy to believe you’d spent about two hours just talking back and forth, with him about his past, his brother, and his nephew. You about your own life and current living situations. Somehow the conversation took…a turn.
“Y’know, it’s funny because Yuji keeps telling me about these things you say and I think it’s so funny. Like he’s tone little wingman.” You laugh, seeing him grin right back at you.
“Yeah like what?” He asks, more teasing than anything.
“Well he said that you said I have pretty eyes and on the way here he goes, ‘uncle says your ass is fat’” you explain with a laugh that he doesn't return.
Instead you see his lip tuck between his teeth after he licks them.
“I did say that.”
Suddenly the room is hot, and you’re very aware of how sharp his canaines look in that stupid grin. How his hand is grinning the back of the couch cushion. And for some goddamn reason you just had to look down, that fucking print so visible against his inner thigh.
Your breath falters, eyes wide and you swallow back any doubt. So he had said all that stuff and it want just Yuji repeating something or just talking.
“I-Well I…Thank you? I-I mean I’d be lying if I said hadn’t looked at you too.” You admit, his body shifting to face you more, almost caging you in on the couch.
“I figured. Every time I come to pick up you can’t seems to form a sentence correctly .” He notes.
“Suku-“
“Ryo.” He corrects. Lifting the strap of your nightshirt over your shoulder, playing with the fabric for a moment.
“Ryo.” You test, hearing his exhale heavily.
“Let’s stop pretending there’s nothing happing and has been happening here. No rule against fooling around with me is there?” Sukuna tests, his hand trailing up to rest no on your neck, his thumb pulling your lower lip down.
“No.”
And with that your make the hood move to connect your lips, his arms immediately going to lift you up ans set you against his lap.
Damn does that bulge feel to much better resting between your legs than just looking at it.
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Authors note: OKAY YEHA ITs gonna be a 3 parter with smut in the next one I cant resist lol yall know smut is my specialty! LMK if you wanna be added to the taglist shawty!
Taglist: @manikosii @ya-boi-v @tergyri @ninacutebee16 @minaloq @kriegsumire-blog @samisfunky @peachhiz @teupaidecalcinhasblog @khaotic-luca @gurutoru @molita111 @snail-squasher @rowrowrowyourboat13
#x reader#reader is black#sukuna x reader#unkuna#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jjk au#jjk headcanons#uncle sukuna#jjk x reader
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Well it's come up multiple times today so I'll make a post about it.
I think the popularization of the word "twink" has ultimately been really bad for people in general.
I know it's hard to track the positive and negative effects of language but I don't think it's hard to see how creating a word for a group of people wherein the most consistent qualifying trait is "being skinny" is healthy for people's self image. Obviously people have lots of ideas about what it means to be a twink- gay, lacking body hair, feminine, beautiful, young, white- but the most consistent descriptor I've seen is "skinny." Hell, it's even a body type on Grindr; the size below "average."
So it kind of functions as a code word in the gay community: anyone can say that they're only interested in twinks and they don't have to look shallow by saying they only like skinny guys. It's such an accepted attitude that no one really bats an eye when they hear it.
I'm not even going to get into how it's become part of the larger issue of people turning "top" and "bottom" into gender roles 2.0, but that is closely related, because people with any internalized homophobia can look at a skinny, feminine man and turn off their fag alarms by viewing him as a woman or not a "real" man, and it makes twinks more acceptable to society at large.
No, ignoring all of that, one of the biggest issues is that gay men are taught by society that they are only attractive while they are skinny. Just having the label "twink" reminds a boy that people are looking at his body and judging it. There were countless times when I was growing up that people would tell me, "You're such a twink," or argue about whether or not I qualified as a twink because I had body hair. People around you, unpromted, judge your body and give you a label based on it, and that label has a large influence on whether or not you're seen as objectively attractive. I know many other gay people who say they wish they were a twink so they could be more attractive to guys.
So think, you have all these kids growing up being told whether or not they qualify as a twink, and then we have the gay community as a whole where it's completely acceptable to say you're only attracted to twinks. I think its because of all of this pressure to be a twink (in other words, to have a below average weight) that many of the gay people that I interact with struggle with a negative body image or eating disorders.
I mean, people talk about "twink death" like it's an actual event that makes a gay man much less attractive, and no one thinks that, maybe, it's harmful to tell a guy that the very day he stops being young and thin and pretty, he will stop being attractive and celebrated?
I'm not qualified to speak on fatphobia in physical queer spaces because I don't have the ability to frequent them where I live, but I can't imagine that these aren't issues at social gatherings as well. I also can't speak on my own experiences with weight discrimination because so far in my life I have had a naturally thin body, but I have experienced a lot of outside pressure to be thin that have caused me to pick up unhealthy eating habits to reduce my weight in fear that I could become fat later on. Thankfully that is something that I've mostly been able to work past. I'm not an expert, but idk, I just wanted to rant on my silly tumblr blog.
Obviously it's impossible for a word to be inherently bad. I'm not trying to imply that saying "twink" is a magic word with evil powers. Obviously the real issues at play here are fatphobia and harmful beauty standards and body shaming. But in my opinion, the popular use of the word twink has made it much easier and acceptable to express fatphobia, etc, in the gay community by turning "skinny person" into a "type of guy that you should try to be so you can be attractive."
#i know i sound annoying and woke but this is my blog and i can post whatever i want :3#theres so much more to say but this is long enough as it is#no ones gonna read this anyway#gay#queer issues#fatphobia#cw ed mention
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thoughts on best friends dad!rafe!
introducing bfd!rafe & dolly!reader
there was pathetically sick part of rafe that got off on knowing that he still had it — especially with such a young girl like you who was an absolute knockout, absolutely eager and willing to bend to his every whim. he had watched you bloom into the young woman you were today, but the moment you turned eighteen, you became a bit more forward with your intentions. from wearing skimpy bikinis whenever you joined his sweet son on family trips, to the thin satin dresses that tented with your hard nipples on thursday dinners — you made sure to always look your best for mr. cameron.
but what made rafe melt was the way you were so immersed in him, you completely dismissed how his son was head over heels in love with you — and you can call rafe a sick man, but he always craved being the center of attention, no matter the costs. his little boy would just have to move on, not that he ever stood a chance against his overpowering and domineering father.
so, when rafe’s son asked if you could spend the summer at tannyhill, rafe was eager to oblige, masking his reasoning with ‘wanting his next of kin to be happy at home’, despite his true intentions of having you surrender all of yourself to him, now running rampant is his tainted and somewhat deranged mind.
on the first night of your extended stay, you found yourself sat beside your best friend’s father, your tooth-achingly sweet and doting best friend seated directly across from you, completely oblivious to the way his father stared at you with that same sense of longing and desire.
you liked mr. cameron — he was always so sweet to you, he bought you the finest birthday presents, complimented your girly, but borderline inappropriate outfits, and he always seemed to know exactly what you needed at any given time.
and maybe, just maybe there was a part of you that knew he felt the same way about you too.
carelessly leaning over the dining table, you fought back a knowing smirk as your swollen tits bulged against the hem of your sleeveless romper, the ribbed fabric clinging to your warm frame as you reached for a piece of bread, “thank you for having me, mr. cameron,” you sang, your sweet voice all light and airy as you glanced at the older man, your heart jumping as you caught his eyes stuck on the fat of your plush ass cheeks that managed to swallow the romper.
masking his faux pas with a forced clearing of his throat, mr. cameron licks over his lips with a smile, “well — ahem, f’course, my wife and i really appreciate how good of a friend you’ve been to our boy, isn’t that right, honey?”
rafe knew exactly what he was doing, his trained blue eyes carefully taking in the way your plump smile faltered into a brief frown and how the sparkle in your eyes dimmed. your bubble of security had been popped in that very moment as you tugged on the top hem of your romper, your nailed fingers lightly grazing over the baby pink bow that had been sewn between the valley of your breasts.
your oh so pretty and fake smile only intensified as mrs. cameron sauntered into the dining room. you absolutely hated how your shared likeness towards mr. cameron had soured your perception of the clueless woman who still viewed you to be the daughter she always wanted.
placing a manicured hand atop of mr. cameron’s shoulder, you watch as the woman leans down to capture rafe’s lips in a quick kiss, “mhm. you know that we love having you over, sweetie. you keep us on our toes, dolly” she laughs, gently nudging the apple of your cheek as she makes her way to her seat, directly across from mr. cameron.
dolly — the dear nickname that you’d been given by mr. cameron, you’d always been so wet behind the ears, dainty, and entirely too vulnerable. but, it didn’t feel right coming from her.
answering with a short nod, you are a bit too eager to change the topic of discussion, a silent huff of stress leaving your faded plum stained lips as your best friend furrows his brows at your standoffish behavior, “y’okay?” he mouths, softly nudging your shin with the tip of his converse.
“i’m okay,” you mouth back, a soft smile on your pillowy lips as you steal a quick glance at mr. cameron who catches your sneaky gaze, sending you a quick wink as he takes a sip from his glass of chilled red wine.
licking over your dry lips, you swallow thickly, popping a warm and fluffy piece of bread into your needy mouth as mr. cameron’s long and slender leg brushes against yours. fighting back a smile, you remain silent as mrs. cameron enlightens the table about her new endeavors at cameron development, your eyes glazed over as you quietly hook your leg over his firm thigh.
honing your focus into chewing the piece of bread in your mouth, you watch from the corner of your bambi eyes as rafe inconspicuously slides a large hand over the smooth skin of your waxed leg.
now lost in the sensation of mr. cameron’s hand gently kneading soothing circles around your ankle, your eyes widen as rafe’s voice cuts into your dazed state, “y’seem pretty sleepy over there, dolly — everything a’ight?” he questions knowingly, his buzzed head tilted to the side as his pink lips part in anticipation of your next words.
feverishly nodding, you send rafe a forced courteous smile, “yes, mr. cameron — just sleepy,” you answer politely.
returning his attention to his son and wife, rafe keeps a tight hold on your small ankle, the cold bite of his wedding band digging into your warmed and bronze skin. you always loved to prance around tannyhill barefoot, you’re pretty pink toes on full display, ever since your younger days.
and rafe was painfully reminded of that, a feigned smile of interest on his handsomely structured face as he gave your cute little toes a gentle squeeze, every now and again.
all while his poor son and unsuspecting wife sat and ate their overly priced steak dinner.
#asks#anon#obx#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x reader#obx imagine#rafe cameron smut#bfd!rafe#dolly!reader#rafe x reader
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What if sleep deprived!reader is doing work late at night again, and what if Price fucks her to sleep ;)
((This has been in my mind for a week now))
(Im using anonymous because Im still shy-)
Hnhhhhh. S' is so fuckin hot nonnie.
warning: fem! reader, kinda brat tamer! Price and a very eepy reader, somewhat dumbification, rough sex to soft sex, somnophilia at the end, not proofread 😢
You know your husband hates it when you stay up late. Moreover if it was work he couldn't convince you to finish in the morning. But were you really to blame here? It's not your fault the deadline got pushed early. Besides, you wouldn't be doing this if you didn't have to.
That was the philosophy you believed in up until your husband came in and decided to put you to bed himself.
You were always so stubborn, but you were adding a whole new flare to it earlier. Making a big show about how "you have to finish the report now, lest you want your boss to beat your ass". And he understands, really, he does. A man with his line of work would understand the calling of responsibility more than anybody. Maybe the late hours of the night has finally gotten into your head. Cause that certainly wasn't an excuse to act up, talking back, and thinking you could banish him to the bed with only the presence of one. No, young lady that attitude will not be tolerated. What happened to his good girl, huh?
But you see, John's always spoiled you. Even during one of your fights, and tantrums. Since you wanted to finish your papers so much John decides to be the bigger person, and give you exactly what. You. Want.
This leads us to now. Both of your wrists are pinned against your back, John using them as nothing but a handle to fuck you back on his fat cock. You feel like a doll, all limp as you're fucked within an inch of your life right by your work desk.
You want to sleep. To slip into dreamland. But the bright light from your opened laptop, paired up with your husbands unrelenting thrusts inside your tight pussy prevents you from even closing your eyes.
Open mouthed, and mindlessly drooling on the papers you were fussing over earlier, John thinks you look best like this. Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be working, much less overexerting herself.
He takes pity on you. His poor, sweet, baby. You're just being forced by your stupid job to comply with even stupider work. Shhh, hush now, sweet thing. Your husband's here to help.
Thrusts slowing down, he gently lets go of both of your wrists. Seeing them carelessly fall to your side makes him coo softly at you. You're being picked up before your mind can even process the action. The blur in your vision makes the colors blend in with each other, and for a moment you see the world like a kaleidoscope.
Fatigue latches onto your bones like a pesky leach. The only thing grounding you is the fat cock nestled within your core. The jostle of a mattress takes you out of your delirium, the softness of silk against your back feels like heaven. What was supposed to be a satisfied sigh quickly turns into a pleasured moan as John gives a shallow thrust into your puffy pussy.
He knows your tired, but he just couldn't help himself. Seeing his princess finally in bed like she deserves. Whining and groaning, you can't eve bring yourself to lift up your arms and tell him to give it a rest. Give you a rest. But, he's doing you a favor can't you see?
John's leaning down in a second, kissing your temple shut. You feel your body slowly succumb to his ministrations. Whispering soft praises into your ear, while he grinds himself aimlessly in your velvet walls.
The feeling of it is oddly more relaxing than stimulating. Eyes closed, you feel powerless even as John slightly picks up his pace. You've accepted defeat, finally falling into the wistful sleep your body has craved. And John thinks you look absolutely breathtaking like this. Always so beautiful without trying. He gets closer and closer to release, using your unconscious body to get himself off. Cumming deep inside of your pretty, princess pussy.
a/n: AHHHHH. M' sorry for only being able to answer your request today nonnie, I know you sent this yesterday 😞 also like. I didn't know if you wanted something soft or rough, so I just added both. Also, this was a lot of fun to write! No pressure on keeping yourself anonymous, jus' know that you can always send in your horny thoughts. N e ways, I hope you enjoyed this! Have a wonderful day/night, my loves!
Yours, truly,
–dolly
#cod imagine#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod x reader smut#john price x reader#captain john price#john price#captain price fanfic#price x reader#price x reader smut#captain price x reader#captain price smut#x female reader
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hi! could I request a fic where reader has trouble falling asleep without someone with her? maybe with Hotch or Miguel? like their voices soothe her into sleep? only if you feel like it!! have an amazing day and I adore your writing! 💟💟
hi gorgeous, thank you! ♡ fem
Hotch is rubbing the knots out of his neck when his phone pings with a text.
Hi, handsome, hopefully you're sleeping, so when you wake up I was wondering if you can send me the photos from last Wednesday to print <3
He adores your silly electronic heart.
Hotch clicks your contact and brings the phone to his ear, waiting as the dial trills once. You pick up immediately, sounding sorry and sweet and the slightest bit tired. "Hey. You're awake."
"Yes, I'm awake, I just got home. Why are you awake? It's four in the morning, honey."
"You sound very accusatory right now. You're accusing me."
"Mm. Can I come over, or will you fall asleep before I get there?"
"Fat chance of that. You're really coming over?" you ask.
Hotch leaps up the moment he hears the relief in your voice. Something is wrong, and you won't tell him over the phone. He says goodbye gently, dresses less so, and makes an impressively quick journey to your home to put whatever it is back the way it should be.
You seem in good spirits even though the hollows under your eyes are prominent in the light of the porch, opening your arms for him and hugging him there on the door jam, rumpled under his chin. "You're not wearing a suit."
"Would you have preferred that?"
"Only if you were gonna take it off."
"You'd like that, hmm?" he asks, his teasing at odds with the dulcet cadence of his voice. "I'll dance."
You giggle into his chest. Hotch grins but quashes it as you look up for a kiss, your lips soft, sweet against his. You kiss his cupid's bow all smushed upward before stepping away from him, your hands drifting together. He pauses to lock the door and take off his shoes. You tug him impatiently back to your room.
Hotch has dreams about your bedroom. There's something about you, the way you climb into bed and sit pretty against the headboard waiting for him to follow you in, innocuous, intensely tempting. He pulls back the sheets and slides in, needling an arm under you to drag you into his side and down onto your back simultaneously.
"Unnecessary show of strength," you say with a laugh.
"Just reminding you."
You turn out your lamp. He squirms to get comfortable. Your mattress is a mess and he's not young enough to bear it without consequence in the morning, but he'll suffer it and worse if it means you'll stay nestled against his side, your cheek at home on his bicep, your arm wrapped around his middle.
"You'll tell me what's keeping you up?" he asks, hushed.
"I really don't know how you just know these things…" You give in, because you always give in with him, and (to his credit), he always listens. "I don't think I can sleep without you, Aaron, I really don't."
"Why? You're not worrying about me, are you?" he asks.
"No. Of course I am, but that's not the problem. I just struggle without you here. It's easier when you call me, I can fall asleep with you talking to me. But otherwise it's hard."
"How did you fall asleep before me?" he asks fondly, turning his face to nose at your temple.
"I'm used to you, I think. I'm spoiled."
"You aren't spoiled." He pressed his lips to your cheek, eyes closed to breathe you in. "What do you want me to talk about? Think of something soothing."
"You aren't a man with many soothing stories," you say.
Hotch tells you about the quieter things in his life, the things that make undertaking the unsaid worthwhile. Jack wants to be Bugs Bunny for Halloween and Hotch has no idea why. Spencer destroyed his computer with a cup of coffee —the problem being the amount of undisolved sugar clumped at the bottom of his cup that found its way into the computers RAM with no hopes of cleaning, rather than the drink itself. His office door squeaks constantly and he's half mad with it, but there's no solution beyond waiting for someone in maintenance to oil the hinge.
He realises you've fallen asleep somewhere in his stories and he hadn't noticed. He didn't think your confession was wholly true. Perhaps you're stressed, or anxious in a way you haven't shared. And yet you fall asleep as promised from the sound of his voice, your hand scrunched in his shirt like you worry he'll escape you, your eyelid to his arm. Hotch contemplates you as you sleep, pulling the sheets snugly to your chin. He doesn't know if you know this, but you're his sweetheart. He finds you so precious, among a thousand other things, brave and kind and loving, but he knows he's a lucky man. He's the spoiled one.
If you need his voice to fall asleep to, he'll talk until he's hoarse. And while he's away, he'll have to remember to call. He can't have you missing out on sleep. Hotch kisses the hollow under your eye and tries to sleep too, but he finds he misses the sound of your voice.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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Bad Man (joel miller x afab!fem!reader)
Words: ~1.2k
Summary: Joel was a bad man. Neither of you gave a single fuck about it. (there's nothing here but pure filth. i am not sorry nor will i apologize. it spewed out of my brain and now here you be)
Warnings: 18+ only, rough sex, unprotected p in v, ass slapping, neck grabbing, bruising mentioned, girthy age gap, slightly toxic internal thoughts/monologue
masterlist here
You’re not sure how you got into this position, got to this place.
Well… actually, that’s a lie.
You’re pretty sure of it, if you’re being honest with yourself, and it has everything to do with Joel’s big fucking mouth and his stupid, flirty personality. It has even more to do with his perfect, stupid, glorious tongue and his frustratingly fat cock.
The speckled gray hair and the crow’s feet at his eyes were just the icing on top of the cake for you, really. A well-worn man with just as worn hands, willing to use them to deliver all of the pain and pleasure you could possibly ask for. He fucks, and he fucks well. He fucks like someone who’s lived an entire life, knows exactly what he wants, and takes it. Every time.
It’s all that you can think about, all that you can manage to do as he spears his hips into you from behind, nearly knocking the wind out of your chest with every thrust.
Joel was a bad man. A very, very bad man.
And you fucking loved him for it.
Every grunt you hear from behind you spurs you on a little further, makes your core get a little bit wetter, until you feel beads of sweat start to drip from his body and onto your back. You cry out for him as the fingers of one hand dig bruisingly into your hip, and the palm of the other takes turns slapping at each of your asscheeks until you’re sure they’re a bright, stinging red with the heat you can feel radiating off of them already.
There’s nothing in your mind, nothing in your body, but Joel. Joel everywhere.
He stops his smacks, but not his thrusts, and grips you tightly at the nape of your neck, shoving your face down into the couch beneath you. He holds you there, barely enough room to get a breath in between your cheek and the cushion, but the new angle makes you absolutely see stars. You cry out for him, fingers digging into the couch as you try to find purchase anywhere you can manage.
You feel like your insides are on fire - and so are your asscheeks - everything is, really, because Joel is all over you and inside of you and everywhere and everything and it was so fucking perfect you could cum just from the thought of it all.
You were sure this was what heaven must feel like. Did you make him feel just as good? He hisses behind you and you feel another rush of slick to your core as you think about it.
This, right here, was heaven. You knew it. You didn’t need to die to get there, and hell, you surely knew Joel wouldn’t be coming with you, anyway. So this would be enough. You’d let Joel bring a little piece of heaven to you, just like this, anytime he wanted to. You’d never say no to him.
And the thing is, you were right. Joel was a bad man. A very, very bad man. And he knew it. He just didn’t care.
With Ellie leaving and Tommy off to start his own family, what else did he have left? Who cares if he started fucking the little stable girl, young and perky and pliant and willing… all for him, any night of the week?
Could you really blame him for not giving a rat’s ass about what anyone else thought?
Maria would have his head if she knew, probably chastise him for being a dirty old man, call him a pervert or a cradle robber or something even worse.
You were legal, though. At least legal to the standards of 2003… legality ain’t much of a thing, these days.
He grunts heavily above you, staring down at you like you’re some kind of magic, materialized beneath his hands. Your fucking skin is just so fucking soft… Not hard and war-torn like his. And your hands… Oh the way your soft, gentle hands make him feel when they’re wrapped around his cock. Don’t even get him started on your fucking perky, perfectly pouty lips. He might as well have a heart attack and go to heaven each time you wrap your lips around his length.
So, fuck it. He wants this. Damn near feels like, after all this time, maybe, just maybe, he even deserves it. Deserves a warm cunt to sink himself into at the end of the day, a perky set of tits to play with, a smiling face that calls out for him not in stress or frustration but in pleasure.
Yeah. He wants it. He really, really fucking wants it. And he’s gonna take it - and keep taking it - over and over again until you’ve had your fill of him or until he drops dead in the process. He’s gonna take you every way he possibly can.
With the most mental clarity he’s had since that moment in the hospital with Ellie, Joel’s hips stutter for a moment as his breath catches in his throat. It’s just a second - barely a blip - but you notice. Of course you fucking notice. You start to turn your head back to him as if to ask him about it, but he just keeps fucking you relentlessly into the couch, never giving you a moment to even breathe, let alone ask a question.
He keeps your face pressed down into the cushions beneath you, and one of his broad arms wraps around your waist, a single calloused finger rubbing softly at your swollen nub. It takes very few moments of his touch at your clit to send you spiraling into oblivion, your back arching violently away from him as he continues to pound into you, both hands resting at each hip. His fingertips dip into your hip bones as he pulls you up and down on his cock, bouncing you off of his thighs with each thrust. He doesn’t give you a moment to think, let alone come down from the high of your orgasm, until he can feel the familiar tightening in his balls, slamming into you once - twice - three more times before he’s pulling out of you just in time to splatter his hot cum all over your well-abused ass.
The pearly white beads of his cum nearly sparkle across the reddened skin of your ass cheeks and he groans in satisfaction as he catches his breath, loving the look of you painted with his seed. His.
His.
The possessive, needy demon comes out in him as he slaps his hand down against your reddened ass one more time and smears his cum all the way across your backside.
“You’re fucking mine, little girl. You understand me?”
You mewl, eyes shutting tightly as you press your ass back into the touch of his hands. He’ll be gentle with you later when you’re alone upstairs, buried under the sheets, where it’s safe and he’s sure no one’s watching. His shell will crack and you’ll get a little glimpse into his miserable broken insides, but not now. Not yet.
Now, he’s all sharp edges and teeth, rough and raw and oh-so Joel.
He slaps your ass again, smearing his cum across your back before raking his nails sharply down your spine.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
~ ~ ~
A/N: if you liked it, PLEASE leave a comment and/or a reblog! your interactions are literally the fuel to my fire! Love you all! xoxoxo
#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller#the last of us fanfiction#joel tlou#pedro pascal#pedro#pedro pascal fanfiction#no beta we die like men#writing
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RIGOR MORTIS !
ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
tags. las plagas!reader, he kills you, technically snuff ig but wasn’t intended oops, gore, canon-typical violence, reader is infected and out of it so she can’t really consent, dub-con, non-con, p in v, choking/asphyxiation, strangulation
note. god im plagued by writers block and it’s killing me it’s like walking on shattered glass rn. umm please ignore any mistakes, not very fond on this but haven’t posted in a bit :3 um it’s quite short. rbs are always appreciated :3 instead of asking for a part 2 please just tell me something nice.. feedback is really appreciated <3 comms are open! info in my pinned :3
Leon seeks refuge in what looks to have once been a humble abode. Now only a shack wearing a shroud of all things dead and rotten remains. Foetid water has soaked him to the bone, it seeps into the thick leather of his combat boots, leaves his socks soggy. He really hates that. Leon can handle cerebrospinal fluid leaving a sticky film on the toe of his boots, the blood caked beneath his fingernails is something he considers normal, but wet socks are a total inconvenience, it’s a shortcut to trench foot.
The hollow skulls of small critters occupy the corners, the cobwebs have cobwebs, the air is stagnant and stinking. Not of rot, but of sickness. A gaping wound crawling with infection, bacteria settling in the crevices of his mind, squirming like fat, juicy maggots—
Crack!
It’s a man, he was a man, now he’s a boneless lump of flesh, his spinal cord snapped under the weight of Leon’s boot. His yellowed teeth glisten under the golden warmth of a single lantern. Leon’s defence is choreographed at this point, a swift kick to intercept an impending strike, then his boot makes mincemeat of their brains.
When he takes a step back to review his current affair, it’s not so bad, certainly not Raccoon City. Leon would take a million murderous Spanish grandparents over a single zombie. Zombies are plain nasty, not a single limb intact, oozing pustules that peel back to reveal purpling flesh infested by larvae. They’re fuckin’ ugly. Slow and bloated and ugly. A sight no human being should see.
On the wall, there’s a shattered, grimy mirror. Leon sees the ghost of a boy staring back at him. Unwashed hair hanging limp, cheekbones carved out, his skin alabaster like the blocky lettering stitched into his uniform. R.P.D. it reads, muddied by blood and guts and chunks of vomit. All the good shit. He hasn’t grown into his body yet, the steel of his gun is cool on his temple and he’s young and these are all important things to know. In his arms is something small and lightweight, a bloodied little girl, leading him to a pyrrhic victory.
The floorboards groan under the weight of a pair of feet that don’t belong to him, the threat isn’t imminent. You don’t charge at him, no, it’s shambling he can only describe as zombie-like, dragging your bare feet like it hurts to lift them off the ground. Like you’re waterlogged and ready to pop.
You were pretty, he’s sure, a real looker. You’re pretty now, just not in your entirety. Strings of reddish muscle keep the fatty flesh of your right tit hanging on for dear life. Like an Amazonian woman. There’s no rot, no sign of decay, simply an act of self-mutilation.
Now, some might call him a pervert, but Leon’s a self-proclaimed iconoclast. And you, swaying from side to side in your torn linen nightdress, the skeletal pendant of Los Iluminados around your neck like a disfigured cross, draped in a veil of white that’s close enough to holy - it’s worth ruining. Santa Maria di Plagas or whatever.
He realises a few shattered bones have you walking funny, circles you easily and heads into the room you exited. The bed sheets are rumpled in unrest, he sits, there’s a hairline fracture between the two of you. The lantern light bares all, the white of your dress becomes gossamer-thin, he makes out your shape beneath the blood-soaked cloth that moulds to the shape of your torso, the smooth dip of your waist, a soft sinkage where the fabric clings to your belly button.
Leon has seen far worse. Can you blame a guy for getting hard at the sight of a real girl? In his line of work, he’s neck deep in pounds of flesh that spew pus and gore from each virus-clogged abscess. The layer of dirt on your skin does not deter him, that tit hanging by a tissuey thread, swinging back and forth like your necklace is child’s play to him. ‘Cause Leon’s a real man. The princely type.
(He’s anything but. One girl’s knight in shining armour is a monster under the bed for another. It’s not like you can complain, you’re quite the monster yourself.)
Hang in there Ashley. He’ll be there soon, but he’s got to do this. This is completely and utterly necessary. Hunnigan doesn’t need to know why he’ll be unreachable for a good thirty minutes or so. Less probably. ‘Cause your body is hot, clammy with fever, and that means your pussy is even hotter.
Something… Something… Plagas… Something… Lord Saddler…
Your mumbling is constant. Leon will have to do something about that. You gnash your teeth at him when you approach, held back only by the sluggishness that comes with, like, brainwashing cultish parasites.
“Sorry, sweetheart, no entiendo.” Leon loops a worn piece of rope around your neck. Ain’t that handy? Found it hung on your assumed-to-be father’s tool belt. Used for leading curly little lambs to the sacrificial altar. He strokes the underside of your chin, and you bare your teeth like a wild dog, albeit slowly. A late reaction. No fair, it’s like someone’s knocked you around already, who got here before him?
Getting his dick out at a time like this in a place like this, it’s not smart. Sneaky bugs could use his urethra as a water slide. A menacing minibeast might latch onto his balls pincher-first. However, needs are needs, and nothing gets in the way of Leon’s dick, not even a kidnapped First Daughter could stop the force of nature that is his boner.
With ease, he pushes you onto the ground. Not the bed. If you behave like an animal then he’ll have to fuck you like one. Plus, Leon’s not quite sure he trusts those sheets, at least the rusty nails on the floorboards are visible to the naked eye. Tetanus won’t be a nasty surprise, just a momentary lapse in judgement.
Your body contorts when he pulls the rope, back taking on a feline shape, spine bending inwards and your hips up. Puppetry is easier than it looks. The hem of your dress lifts to reveal your leaking chasm of a pussy. Better than nothing. Not like he’s eating it either way.
One hand on the rope, the other on his belt buckle, he lowers his jeans enough to pop his dick out. “Stay still, honey.” He instructs, but it’s like talking to a brick wall, or to a person who doesn’t understand a lick of English.
Leon chokes you with the rope. “I’ll only be a minute, sweetheart,” he coos, a tender kiss that he regrets merely seconds later placed on your shoulder.
He grips the base of his cock, the fat tip is red and leaky, precum bubbling like your foaming mouth. Leon’s too hard. His dick is totally upright, the soft curve pointing towards the ceiling, a thumb comes to press down on the tip, using it to guide himself into your pussy.
“Oh, there you go, honey, yeah, there you go.” His hold on the rope loosens, still firm enough to keep you in place, but now at least there’s oxygen flowing to your parasite-addled brain. “You feel that?”
Leon’s dick stretches you to the point of no return. He’s broken you in. Better off him than any of those grotesque old men. You’re a virgin surely, so it’s very considerate of him to fuck you before you die. No one should die a virgin, that’s cruel, it’s inhumane.
You thrash wildly, grunting each time his hips smack into the fat of your ass, he can’t tell if you’re enjoying it— You better be fuckin’ enjoying it. Know how risky this shit is? Fuck, what if you had a mutated cunt or something. Jagged teeth waiting to clamp down on a big fat dick and tear it straight off. He really needs to start thinking with his brain and not his cock. The thing just doesn’t shut up.
When he cums, the rope is tight around the column of your neck— It would be your hair, but he fears it might fall straight from your scalp in nasty, matted clamps. Your body rears like a wild Mustang, he gathers the rope and it wraps around his fingers until your back is flush to his chest and you grasp for something, anything— Eyes rolled so far back he can see the milky whites, and then he gives one last tug to make sure you’re stuck in that state. Mid-orgasm. Eyes in the back of your skull, back arched, pussy dripping with his load. Cute. He wishes rigor mortis set in right now so that you don’t fall slack into a heap of red and white when he lets go.
Leon leaves by barrelling out of a window like a true gentleman, the microscopic shards splinter your skin. He takes that pendant with him, tucks it in his back pocket, could be useful at some point in time.
It’s only when the blood in his veins runs black and viscous does Leon notice something is severely wrong. His blood flow slows to a halt, clots forming in every important artery. Mucousy black sludge leaks from his nose. An intense pain cuts through his senses with deadly precision, a surge of discomfort that has him kneeling over, hands on his knees in a clumsy attempt to steady himself.
His hands clasp around Ada’s neck— The rope. He pulls it tighter and tighter to get closer and closer. Her voice is distorted by the fog that clouds his brain, it creates a hazy barrier, mutes the world around him. A knife lodges in the meaty flesh of his thigh, he topples backwards when her knee makes contact with his groin.
“That bitch gave me crabs.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He brushes her off. “I said, uh, Lord Saddler almighty.” Leon’s heard that enough times to repeat it back to her rather fluently. Nice save.
“Right,” Ada says, unconvinced.
#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy imagine#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy smut#leon kennedy smut#resident evil x you#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic
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Party Body swap weight gain
Kevin had always felt somewhat out of place in university. He was one of the only foreigners in his class, and was a pretty short guy so he often found it difficult to make friends with other people. He thought attending a party in the next-door dorm would be a good way to hopefully come out of his shell and befriend a few people so he put on some of his nicer clothes and went along with a few classmates.
The party itself wasn't particularly wild, but one guy specifically stood out among all the college students. He was a pretty hefty fellow, and Kevin recognized him as Brian- the guy who'd repeatedly failed to graduate and had pretty much made the college his home. It seemed his family was quite rich and the guy was pretty spoiled, so he never got any punishment for his continued failures. Worst of all, Brian was extremely loud and obnoxious which made him even more unpopular than Kevin.
Seeing as how the people at the party were all tired of Brian's annoying behavior, Kevin thought this might be an opportunity to finally make himself known to the student body and so, he walked up to the fat guy and spoke,
"Hey Fatty, why don't you go to a Wendy's or something. There's no more food left for you here."
"What'd you say to me, little guy?" Brian roared
"I said, waddle your fat ass out of here and stop ruining the night for everyone else, fatso!"
Brian muttered something under his nreath and stormed off, and as the crowd was cheering him on- Kevin, in a moment of boldness, followed after the guy he'd insulted.
Stepping out into the hallway, Kevin smugly walked towards Brian who seemed to have entered his own room. Shamelessly following after the man, Kevin was just about to insult Brian's weight again when a bright flash of light practically blinded him and he found himself losing his balance, and soon drifting off as he fell to the floor.
Coming to, Kevin groaned as he tried to push himself up- but found it was much harder to do so than usual. Rubbing his eyes, the young man finally managed to push himself up into a sitting position only to be met by a horrifying sight. There stood, his body- smirking at him. This wasn't a mirror's reflection... no that was Kevin standing right there at himself... or, more so- staring at whatever Kevin had now turned into
"You know, dude. I was gonna have you have your moment but you just had to follow after me, didn't you?"
"What... what the hell did you do?"
"I took your god damn body and out you in mine. So, who's the fatty now, shithead?"
Kevin took a moment to look down at his body, and immediately a scream followed his realization that he was now Brian, the fat failure! Pushing himself up, Kevin felt his disgusting body and turned to his old boy
"TURN ME BACK RIGHT NOW!"
"Turn you back? Fat chance.. hahah, get it, fat!"
"You're never getting this cute ass asian body back, enjoy your life as a 28 year old fatass!"
With that the new Kevin walked away, leaving behind a crying mess, which was the new Brian. To any observer, it just seemed like Kevin had put Brian in his place and made him cry like the man-child he was, but in reality- Brian had taken everything Kevin had and left him in a ridiculous body, which was 10 years older.
....................................................................................
It had been 5 years since the swap now and Kevin had had a pretty hard time adapting to his new body. Despite his multiple attempts to get his body back, Brian had ridiculed Kevin publicly and left him even more hated, while Bruan grew more and more popular.
At the very least, Kevin was much better at his classes than Brian ever was, so he had actually managed to graduate and even lose a few pounds of weight in his time in Brian's body. He was about to move out of the dorms, and was just getting more comfortable with himself when he saw his old body... in a ruined state.
His beautiful hair had been shaved off on the sides and was shorter than he'd ever let it be, and his gorgeous fit body was now even fatter than the body Brian had left him in. And on hisface was the nastiest smirk Kevin had ever seen.
"Hey man. Heard you graduated in my body... I was thinking, you learned your lesson sooo"
"No, NO DON'T YOU FUCKING DA-"
That was all Kevin could say when he saw the flash again. In a few hours, he awoke in his old body, fat, sweaty and with a terrible haircut. 5 years of his life seamlessly taken away from him while he lost his only chance at studying at the university of his dreams...
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Greediest man in the Stone World.
summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his?
a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make me forgive!!!
☆
Dark. And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.
"Senku..?"
I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.
"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".
[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]
"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".
"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.
His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,500 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.
Here we go again...
Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.
Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a…
"Child?"
The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.
"So, you are new here!"
With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least.
"Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"
Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where he was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.
The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes.
"It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"
A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.
What an idiot!
Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied:
"Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"
Somebody kill me...
It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.
I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."
He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!"
"I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply.
"Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse.
I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it.
"Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.
He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back.
"HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.
"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"
Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands.
"What the f...?!"
"You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"
#dr. stone#senku#dr stone x reader#ryusui nanami#ryusui nanami x reader#senku ishigami#senku ishigami x reader#senku x reader#ryusui x reader#anime imagines#anime and manga#anime x reader#gen asagiri#imagine#one shot#sfw
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to be young
roronoa zoro x reader
your boyfriend thinks he's got jokes
"let's burn it down" + zoro for anon
1.5k words
a/n: it's fluff with very minimal plot (like absolutely none). also slightly ooc zoro? he's very lovey dovey and i'm not sorry about it
zoro knows he was a pain in the ass as a child. dragging his feet to do chores, loud-mouthing all the older kids, challenging kuina day and night for just one more battle - he knows he was a brat.
and, now, at the ripe age of 21, he likes to think that he's grown out of his childish ways. he's mature, seasoned by the hardships of adulthood - a promising young man, if you will.
"ha!" zoro snickers, "i made you look."
"you're so lame," you groan. "i don't know how you tricked me into thinking you were some playboy."
you knock his hand out of your face, but (like the playboy he is) in one smooth motion, he locks his fingers with yours.
"no tricks," he flashes you a grin reminiscent of your first meeting in that hole-in-the-wall bar. "a man can be both, you know?"
"don't i know it," you mumble. yet, for all your grumbling, there's a bashful smile tugging at the corner of your lips that reminds zoro of the moments before he kissed you in that hole-in-the-wall bar.
"anyway," you ignore the look of triumph on zoro's face. "as i was saying, that's my elementary school over there."
against the crimson sky, zoro follows your finger and spies a schoolhouse in the horizon. your other hand is still holding his, swinging in rhythm to his pace.
"that dinky little thing? can you even call that a school?"
"okay, not all of us grew up in a dojo with zen gardens and..." you motion in the air. "-and... meditation grounds."
zoro has to laugh at what you've come up with. his laughter bounces against the cobblestone streets, landing in every spot marked by the setting sun.
"meditation grounds?" he repeats. you scowl. "we didn't have any of those."
"no objections to the zen gardens, i see," you huff.
"they were nice! and i know you liked them. i heard you tell ol' man shimotsuki they were pretty," he pokes your cheek and you swat him away.
"well, here in this li'l town, we don't have any zen gardens but we do have a playground behind the church."
at this point, the schoolhouse has come into view, framed by the aforementioned church. it's got stained-glass windows that glimmer (like your eyes when you laugh) and there are flowers lining the fence (rosy like your cheeks when you blush).
around the back, zoro can spot the essentials of a playground - slide, swings, seesaw, and a carousel that looks like it's seen better days.
"oh, that's... nice."
"thanks for your enthusiasm, baby."
"you know what? you're welcome," he grins.
his sarcasm earns him one of your signature eye rolls, the one that says you're so annoying. and he responds with a devilish smile that says i know, but you love me.
carrying on, you motion towards the playground at the back of the church. "see that carousel? it flung me off this one time and i broke my knee."
he tries to picture a tiny you — baby fat in your cheeks, in a mismatched outfit, holding onto your bloody knee on the concrete. knowing how much of a crybaby you are now, he knows that you were probably bawling when it happened.
he wonders vaguely if you were also cursed with an ugly childhood haircut and snickers at the thought of it. unfortunate hair or not, he's sure of one thing — you must've been the most darling little kid.
"that's terrible," zoro tries not to laugh. "what a shitty thing for a carousel to do."
"right? i was so traumatized, that was the last time i ever rode it."
"should we teach it a lesson?"
the last time you saw zoro teach anybody a lesson, it ended with a bloody nose and a black eye. so it's with much confusion that you turn towards him with a knitted brow.
"what are you on about?"
"the carousel."
"what about it?"
"let's burn it down."
"burn it down," you repeat with an exasperated sigh and a loving smile. "are you crazy?"
he throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. instinct has you tucking into him and, enveloped in his warmth and the scent of steel and mint soap, you find shelter in the spot next to his heart.
"crazy for you maybe," he says with a kiss on your head. "you know what could be fun though? we could go full scorched earth and burn the whole playground down."
"as romantic as arson sounds, i don't want to be complicit in your crimes."
"you're dating a pirate. fraternizing with a criminal doesn't exactly make you innocent."
you turn to zoro, looking up at him with your best doe-eyed look and the cutest pout you can muster (he almost kisses you right then and there in the middle of the square).
"but i'm too cute to go to jail."
that much is true, and zoro knows it more than anyone. you're cute when you're shy, cute when you're happy, and cute even when you're mad. in fact, how adorable you are is the one thing that zoro and that stupid cook can agree upon.
but your darling little heart belongs to him and he'll do anything to keep it in his hands - even if it means jail.
"i'd bail you out though," he rests his chin on your head.
"with what money?"
"hmm, good point. can i borrow some money?"
"are you gonna pay me back?"
"of course, i would never go back on my word."
"how good is the word of a dirty pirate though?"
zoro fakes an offended look, "i shower every day."
"mm, even so," you tap a finger against your chin, as if you're in deep consideration of your options. "i'll loan you the money but you'll have to pay interest."
"who's the crook now?" he chuckles. "okay, so what's the damage?"
"10 kisses per day," you declare. "compounding."
"easy. i'll even pay in advance for ya."
and before you can protest, zoro starts peppering every inch of your loveable face with kisses. he kisses you on your forehead and your cheek and your nose and along your jawline, ignoring your squeals and giggles. you couldn't even escape if you wanted too; he has you tight in his embrace, effectively trapped.
"stop!" you laugh. "i don't want your cooties."
"liar," he growls between kisses. "you want me so bad."
his barrage is relentless, lips brushing skin, as he gently edges you towards the corner around the back of the church. you land against the wall with a soft thud, cushioned by zoro's arms that are holding you so dear.
then, you sigh against him — a shy, little moan in the shadows — and, in this spot away from prying eyes, a switch flips inside him.
surely, he's exceeded his hypothetical debt but how could he stop now? not when his lips finally find yours, and his teasing turns into hunger for your cherry sweet kisses. he cages you between his arms, hands against cold stone, bracing himself as he takes more of you and gives more of himself.
"hah- zoro..."
he responds by leaving a trail of sweet nothings as he travels down to your neck, little confessions of love left on your skin. your hands travel up his arms and the way your fingertips kiss his skin leaves him dizzy.
but then, you suddenly break away and look over his shoulder with a quiet gasp and wide eyes. like an experienced fighter, zoro reacts with protective instinct.
"what? what's wrong?" he whips around but all he sees is an empty playground. hand still on his swords, he turns back toward you — only now you have a mischievous sparkle in your eye and a devious smile.
"made ya look," you cackle.
zoro's shoulders relax, but the absence of a real threat doesn't let you off the hook. he rounds on you, chuckling darkly.
"oh, you are so gonna get it."
and then the tickles start.
you squeal and he laughs, and you are both so, so in love. hiding away from the rest of the world, you giggle and kiss like two teenagers making out for the first time. zoro smiles against you as he appreciates the delightful irony of it all.
zoro's a fearsome pirate with a schoolboy crush and a love that leaves him with butterflies that he'll never admit to — but you know it anyway.
just like how you know his tough side, his soft side, his immature and kiddy side that still snickers when nami trips. the fact that you adore him for all these different parts means more to him than you'll ever know.
and whether zoro's a pain in the ass or not, a kid or an old man, 21 or 81 years old, he hopes that the way he feels about you will forever be timeless.
#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro fluff#zoro fluff#one piece x reader#¡! ❞ [ fics ]#¡! ❞ [ req ]#another drop in the overflowing bucket of zoro fics that spawned post-opla#thank u mackenyu for being everyone's muse#i still love animanga!zoro sm tho ugh baby boy my love
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Peacekeeper Boy
So I decided to do a little experiment and put a sub twist on Coryo's peacekeeper era.
!!! Warning: slight mentions of sexual abuse
nsfw / mdni / pk!sub!coryo / district!dom!reader
“Do you know what the penalty is for attacking a peacekeeper?” Coryo spoke through gritted teeth, holding his hand to the back of his head, feeling a nasty bump forming there.
He was sitting on the floor, leaning against your front door, primal rage burning in his icy blue eyes.
“I didn't attack you. You were trespassing,” you answered in a calm voice, putting the pan back on the stove.
“Those are my rights given by the law,” the boy snarled.
“I'm gonna report you to my commander! You are gonna pay for this, you stupid district slut!”
You approached him and slapped him across the face, the sound echoing in the walls of your tiny shack.
“Didn't your mama teach you how to speak to a lady?” you grabbed his face in a rough grip making him flinch in pain. You noticed a glimpse of fear in his eyes. As much as he saw district people as inferior, he was terrified at the thought of finding himself at the direct mercy of their savage nature.
You let the boy go and gave him a sarcastic smile.
“Looks like I put some color in those pale cheeks. I’ve noticed you around. You're the prettiest of them all. Do they pass you around at the barracks?”
“W-what?” the young man stuttered. Considering his barely there sexual experience he didn't quite understand the implications. But something about your tone was telling him that he was being mocked.
You smiled at him again, your expression much softer this time. His cluelessness was kinda adorable.
“I mean do the other peacekeepers use you for satisfying their… Needs?” you brushed your thumb over his pink luscious lips. They would look so fine wrapped around someone's fat cock.
“No!” the boy turned his face away from you, looking terrified and disgusted at the thought.
“We are here to serve the country.”
“Oh yeah?” you chuckled.
“All the folks around here know exactly how you're serving your country. However, maybe we could find a way for you to serve your country really well if you behaved.”
The blonde boy looked at you with a genuine confusion in his eyes. He was so pretty like that.
“What's your name, peacekeeper boy?”
“Coriolanus Snow.”
“Oh, that's very fancy. Sounds like we have a little Capitol ratling here. Do your friends also call you Coriolanus Snow?”
Coriolanus swallowed thickly.
“No, they call me Coryo. I don't think you and I are friends though.”
“Oh, Coryo,” you moved your hips making your skirt flutter in the air so that the boy would notice that you were wearing no panties.
“We can fix that any time. You only have to promise me you'll be a good boy.”
Coryo’s breath hitched at the sight of your bare pussy, he froze in place looking up at you with big dumb blue eyes. It seemed like you had broken his brain.
“What’s the matter?” you let your thumb caress his cheek, as your bare foot found the growing bulge between his thighs. You pressed against it gently, causing him to let out a little whimper.
“Didn’t you come here for this? To take what's yours by law and order?” you couldn't help but mock him again, reciting the lines that other peacekeepers had said to your friends during such unexpected nighttime visits.
“N-no…” Coryo tried to lie but the deep blush that filled his cheeks told you everything you needed to know.
He felt extremely embarrassed by how helpless and aroused he felt being just an inch away from crying and begging you to do whatever you wanted to him.
“Oh, you’re such a liar, Coryo,” you sighed, pressing your foot against his hardening dick so hard it hurt.
“I won't lie, I’ll behave, I promise,” Coryo blurted out, feeling a lump in his throat. He was about to burst out in tears.
“You’ll be a good boy for me?”
Coryo nodded.
“Use your words!”
“Yes.”
His voice was soft and broken. You felt warmth building up in your lower abdomen. It was his compliance that made you impossibly wet.
You removed your foot from his groin and put it on his shoulder, revealing your wet cunt right before his eyes.
“Lick it!” you instructed.
Coryo moved closer and sat on his knees for better access. He started licking between your folds as if he was trying to lap up your juices. The boy was clearly clueless of what he was doing.
“Higher!” you gave another command.
Coryo moved up a few millimeters and the tip of his nose bumped against your swollen clit, making you shiver. He noticed your movement and repeated the same drill a few more times.
Hearing a soft moan escaping your lips, Coryo started making small circles around your sweet spot using his tongue.
“Oh, Coryo!” you moaned above him. He took it as encouragement and wrapped his lips around your clit. He sucked hungrily, then let his tongue dance around it for a moment.
You let out sharp gasps each time the tip of his tongue touched your sensitive bud. You could feel your juices dripping down your inner thigh already. This little Capitol basterd was making you feel so good.
“You're a fast learner, peacekeeper boy,” you praised him as he looked up at you with the prettiest puppy eyes you'd ever seen.
“Now, why don't you put those slender fingers to use.”
Coryo stopped and looked at his hand in slight confusion.
“Did I tell you to stop?” you grabbed his head, making him whine as you touched the bump from your previous altercation and shoved his face back between your thighs.
Coryo kept working his tongue against your clit, pushing one finger inside you carefully.
“Good boy!” you exclaimed ecstatically, almost as if you were singing.
Feeling reassured, Coryo added another finger and started moving them in and out at a steady pace.
“Fuck,” he hummed against your clit as your leaking pussy sucked in his digits so easily.
A series of lewd moans filled the room as Coryo kept exploring your slit, curling his fingers just every time he reached anything that seemed like a sensitive spot.
You threw your head back, panting and cursing, fucking yourself against his fingers.
“Fucking hell, Coriolanus Snow, you’re so damn good at this!”
The sounds you were making went straight to Coryo's dick which was now aching with arousal within the confines of his pants.
You tightened your grip on his buzzed head making him fight for air as his face was completely buried in your pussy.
“I’m so close,” you whispered under your breath as Coryo's fingers kept fucking you relentlessly.
A few moments later you came all over his face and fingers, drenching the boy in your warm juices.
He looked up at you, completely pussy drunk, his face glistening from your cum, his eyes bleary and his cock impossibly hard in his pants.
“You look delightful,” you said, caressing his cheek.
“And you did so well… Pretty talented for a Capitol boy, huh! C'mere!” you grabbed him by his dog tags and pulled him up on his feet.
“Will you let me kiss you?” he pleaded adorably.
You nodded and he cupped your face, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss that tasted like your orgasm. You were floating in blissful dizziness as you were still coming down from your heights.
Coryo felt your hand pressing against his crotch, which made him flinch.
“Relax, baby,” you whispered against his lips, palming him through the thick fabric of his pants. He felt so big and hard underneath.
You exchanged kisses that were occasionally interrupted by his cute little moans.
Your pace sped up as Coryo started thrusting his hips against your hand syncing with your movements.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I think I’m going to…”
The sentence was cut off by a loud moan as he climaxed, shooting his load inside his pants.
“Now, look at the mess you made,” you giggled, pointing at the wet spot forming in the crotch area of his pants.
Coryo gave you the most confused and embarrassed look letting you bask in his shame one more time.
“I'm messing with you,” you pressed a little kiss to the tip of his nose and he smiled at you sheepishly.
“You did good, peacekeeper boy.”
“It was amazing,” he whispered, unable to get the stupid smile off his face.
You opened the door.
“I think you were about to go and have a chat with your commander about me.”
“No, I am not going to report you,” Coryo shook his head.
“Good,” you winked at him.
“In that case next time you might be allowed to cum outside your pants.”
#coriolanus snow#young coriolanus snow#peacekeeper coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x reader#thg#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#thg tbosas#cts post
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I know the König x secret admirer reader is not gonna be officially continued but I was wondering if you could maybe explore part of it😭 there’s a part that mentioned that König gets laid in the military and I was wondering how angsty it would be if reader found out?🤭
Yes of course! ^^ It would be angsty... and fluffy! These two are the silliest people who ever lived tbh 🩷🐥
König is young in this AU (around his early 20s) and wildly inexperienced compared to some of the other recruits his age.
His first time was with a girl who joined the army when König had been there for about 1.5 years already. Desperate as he was with hiding the fact that he’s still a virgin, he tumbled into bed with this lady after a night out at the bar. She thoroughly seduced him, and König’s instincts told him she was only looking for fun, but he went with her anyway because, well. Loneliness can kill you, you know?!
He tried to woo her a bit after that until it became quite clear that this woman was not planning to settle down anytime soon. If anything, she was looking for a new conquest – and it’s fine, totally fine, except that König had surrendered a tiny piece of his heart to her along with his dick... That’s just how he is, and it took him more than a few months to get over the fact that it was “just a shag” and he “shouldn’t take things so seriously”.
That’s also why he closed off from people again, decided to concentrate on work and training and gym – until our cute little angel stumbled into his life like the prettiest saving grace! König was a goner from the start because this girl's approach was very different, so gentle and sweet compared to grimy shot glasses and smudgy lipstick and raunchy jokes. It’s a given that he was a little shocked when she sent her that pic 🙄 reminding him of promiscuous women who are not looking for a soul but a body, but because he is what he is the first thing he did was crank things up a notch and send her a dick pic back…
Yes, he’s desperate, but he’s also an go hard or go home man and this time, König is relatively sure he’s dealing with a lovely, delicate soul. Someone who wouldn’t just leave him out in the cold after getting what she wants.
And everything is like a fairytale between these two until she finds out he’s not a virgin despite he seemed a bit… like one… (in this scenario I think reader is a virgin and she thought König was one too because of obvious reasons? lol) And it’s fine, totally fine for her as well, except that the image of König having the night of his life with some military babe is haunting her from dusk till dawn.
There’s bound to be some drama when she starts asking timidly whether she’s still there… Whether they see each other every day. If they talk to each other, if he trains with her, etc. What if they test rifles together, or go out again with the sniper crew and get drunk and König feels… a little lonely?
She knows he would never cheat on her, not in a million years, but knowing how much of a wet dog he is she can’t promise that she’ll be all calm and relaxed during weekends, knowing her boyfriend is out there, full of testosterone and heart, his heart somewhat susceptible to female influence… Maybe even good old seduction…
And what’s even worse is the jealousy, the envy.
What if she’s more badass than her? That doesn't take much... She must be fierce if she’s in the military, something completely different, a forbidden apple König might want to taste again. It’s maddening, and when she finally opens up about it to him, spitting it out one night when he asks what’s bugging his sweet angel, there’s a big fat silence that follows.
König can't even believe she has torn her heart to pieces over something like this, alone and upset and ashamed when she's a literal angel. He sits her nice and pretty in his lap and talks her ear off about how he has nothing against this woman, truly, but that she is nothing compared to his first (and hopefully last!) girlfriend. Their love could never be compared to what happened between him and that girl, these things can’t even be spoken together in the same sentence. If he’s completely honest, his first time was... disappointing. Awkward, humbling, a total drunken mess of which he remembers nothing except that the woman wasn’t completely present either and that he was ashamed that his first time had to be like this.
Honestly, he felt like he lost his virginity on the night when he came to see her. She’s everything he’s ever dreamed of, all he thinks about these days... It’s quite annoying, actually, because he’s supposed to concentrate on how the wind blows and that the ammo doesn’t get wet and that he’s properly concealed.
He could be lying in a ditch with dummy rounds whirling past him and all he could think about are her eyes and lips and giggling and tits and, and… that. How warm it is, how nice it is, how he would just want to curl himself next to her when he hops back to his bunk in the evening. Her smile is the last thing he sees before he dreams, her voice is what he hears. All the things she said, all those sweet, silly little things, chime in his ear before he sleeps.
And all the precious moments they’ve already spent together, the times he made love to her under the trees... There’s nothing like that in the whole world and if she thinks something else can top that she's even sillier than he thought. He could comb through all the continents and he would never find a girl like her.
So tell him again... Why would he go to a shot glass of saltwater when he has a jar of wild honey right here at home?
#lmao what könig doesn’t tell her probablyyy is that the lady is not interested in him either#she just hops from D to D so she barely remembers König even exists#he’s only a co-star in some stories she tells her friends#like “Ooh yeah that one guy had a horse cock but he fussed around with the condom so much I almost fell asleep haha”#“what was his name again? shit I can’t remember”#meanwhile our angel reader is ascending to the 7th plane with the help of the horse cock in question like “Köniii T^T”#always the funniest thing when a secret admirer gets jealous of his object of obsession who’s actually fucking enamored with their no 1 fan#König gets jettisoned to the sun everytime she so much as *looks* his way#like are you both completely utterly dense or were you just born this way…#<3 sillies
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Koi Dekinai no wa Kimi no Sei - By Zeniko Sumiya (8/10)
This is a total win for crossdressing fans. Readers get to dive into the stressful world of music, modeling and fashion. It's all very realistic. Superficial relationships. Talent. Broken friendships. Cross dressing stalkers. Get ready for trouble, because fame is a curse! Is it love, or are you alone on stage?
It starts out so normal.
A shitty band playboy hits on a young, polite lady in a Cafe.
She sits with him. He pays for her drink. She's a sucker for him. He invites her to his show. She gets a free ticket, because she's cute and graceful. The kind of girl that won't cause trouble after a one night stand.
The girl shows up as a man. Yup. "Sara" doesn't hide his cross dressing. He's honest. He shows up backstage and he says he's interested. Really interested. He knows Miyoshi, the douchy saxophone player, is worth conquering. Worth breaking apart and worthy of obsession.
He's a talented hottie.
"Sara" is sold.
By the way Sara is also 32 and Miyoshi is 27. Sara is a makeup master and he's hot out of drag too. Also he works for a fancy clothing rental shop...so he knows everything. He's very familiar with the stressful world of modeling and stage costuming.
He can see through Miyoshi.
Sara is also a big fat stalker. Like, a blatant one.
Miyoshi doesn't call the cops because he is conflicted.
Sara is, after all, super hot.
Also he can be pretty intense.
He cannot wait to tear into Miyoshi, because there is a sensitive artsy dreamer under his playboy shell.
Sara notices exactly how talented he is. Why play the saxophone? Why not act? Why not model? Miyoshi is seriously tall and perfectly built. Sara knows he'd get bookings and more fame in a heartbeat....but Miyoshi is staying pure...he wants to be noticed for his musical talent.
Then he cries because he misses Jun.
Who is Jun?
It's his platonic bestie. Jun stopped playing music professionally....because it's so hard to find success.
Miyoshi isn't using his looks because he wants Jun to come back.
.....it's not gonna happen Jun has moved on and he's got a new career plus a new relationship.
It actually is quite sad.
Miyoshi has very complicated feelings about his looks and his past.
Sara is a capable and successful stylist.
The problems they face are very adult.
Sara is kinda nasty though. I'm not saying he was wrong. Miyoshi did need a major life shift. Someone who can push him to take the next step, away from Jun and his pride.
Sara is a stalker though.
Haha.
#yandere#male yandere#yandere male#yandere boy#recommendations#recs#rec#recommended#yaoi#Koi Dekinai no wa Kimi no Sei
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No Conviction - Ser Criston Cole x Aegon II
For the mother of our brainchild, SMOOCHIELINI @aemondsbabe
Rating: Explicit
Tags: TW//Degradation, Criston is taking out his frustrations and prior guilt, fat shaming, dub-con, Criston is mean, unreliable narrator, manipulation. Angst, M/M, rare pair, Bondage (light), anal fingering, dildo use, there is prep!, bratting, feminization, Aegon’s a slut at the end of the day, Criss priss takes the idea of an order and skews it, chubby!Aegon, prostate orgasm, nipple play
A/N: THIS IS NASTY DIRTY we will be back to our usual content soon, I put the usual taglist but heed the pairing!
Taglist: @arcielee @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @valeskafics @lovelykhaleesiii @fairysluna @starogeorgina @targaryen-madness @sugarpoppss2 @aemonds-holy-milk @dr-aegon
Ao3: Updated later
Alicent’s big doe eyes were watery, her hair wild. She seemed to become increasingly fraught by the day— it pained Ser Criston to know why she was so wracked with nerves. They both were aware of the plans for the future. Very big plans as Viserys continued to decay. He noted the Queen’s nails were bleeding again.
Criston grabbed her shaking palms, soothing her with a murmur, “My Queen, breathe, what is the issue?”
The Knight was grateful he had gloves on or Alicent’s ripped nails might have drawn blood. The redhead took a deep inhale and exhaled. She begged him, a frantic edge to her tone, “Aegon. He’s uncontrollable. I don’t know what to do. He brought whores into the Keep Sept! Ser Darklyn caught..my son..defiling the place.”
She spat ‘my son’ as if it was bile in her mouth. Criston clenched his teeth, anger beginning to rise up from the pit of his stomach. He was utterly revolted. They were going to thrust this wanton, deviant, gluttonous Prince onto the throne.
They had no other choice.
The green queen’s tone grew hard as she ordered, “Pay him a visit. Make him understand the castle is not his playground. Use any means possible. Your queen demands it.”
Criston squeezed her palms and nodded. He rumbled, “Prince Aegon’s heresy will not go unpunished, you have my promise.” Alicent turned away with a thanks, nails back to her lips. The white knight had an order to execute, striding off to the Prince’s quarters.
He stopped to raise a brow at Ser Arryk standing guard. The twin grumbled, “Princeling’s sleeping off his revels, by all means, go ahead.” He gave a wry smile, Criston not returning the look. Criston dismissed Cargyll, “The Queen requires you to take my place at her side. I’ve been sent to deal with Aegon.”
The other Kingsguard nodded, rolling his eyes at Criston’s serious demeanor. Cole watched him descend down the hallway, turning a corner before opening Aegon’s door. The knight wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine and musk— Aegon sprawled out in his bed, naked.
A bottle of wine sat on the side table. Criston’s eyes jerked to the foot of the grand bed. His lips twisted downwards at the ropes, leather, the collection of ivory to ebony carved cocks. The marcher was stunned. The open display of debauchery. An outwardly sinful collection. He swallowed reflexively, deciding on what to do.
Dark eyes roved up to the Prince. He’d grown rather fleshy with drink and overindulgence at the table. For a young man of twenty, a dragon rider, Aegon had the soft curves of a plump maid. Criston could almost laugh— Aegon probably spent too much time on his back to get a sweat working even with all the fucking he did.
He stalked over toward the side of the bed, leering down at Aegon. Criston had an idea pop in his head— a nasty one. Beating Aegon served no gain. The princeling would just snivel and cry, delving deeper into his cups. The knight’s cock stirred at the image of wide eyes and tears falling down fat cheeks.
Aegon was pretty enough, soft enough, tits grown much bigger than Rhaenyra had at the time he coveted her, sullied his cloak for her. His white hair was rumpled, lips, and cheeks feminine and plump. Criston was well acquainted with wide violet eyes and long lashes. He reminded Cole too much of Ali with that look.
Criston barked, “Aegon!”
The prince stirred and whined, rolling onto his soft tummy, exposing more plush thigh and a round ass. Criston rolled his eyes, ignoring his stirring cock. Aegon’s pallid fleshy hips had jagged pink marks, a sign of the glutton gaining too much for his skin to keep up. The marcher couldn't understand how the buffoon had no shame in his naked body, especially in a state such as this.
Criston’s eyes jerked back to the foot of the bed. Aegon was ruled by his extreme hedonism. His nasty thought blossomed into a plan. The knight sighed in annoyance. He’d remain chaste, but Aegon would get some sense fucked into him.
Criston undid his gauntlets in quick snaps, eyes blown and focused on the prince. Next came his pauldrons, dropping to the floor in a loud clank. Aegon snuffled and stirred, groaning, “Fuck off Cargyll, m’alive.”
Finally, the heavy cuirass was off. The marcher remained in his white garb. He took off his boots before snatching the phials of oil and the biggest carved cock available. The cloak was neatly placed out of sight— Criston would deal with his guilt later. This was for the crown, for his queen, for the future of Westeros.
He placed the heavy cock down on the bedside table, placing a knee on the plush bed. Aegon finally jerked and squawked, reddened eyes wide. His puffy lips opened and closed like a fish. The prince questioned “Cole? What in the seven hells are you doing here? I’m trying to rest! Did you not hear me tell Cargyll to fuck off?”
Criston wanted to snarl and jerk the brat around. He remained quiet, face placid, staring Aegon down. After taking a breath, he spoke, “I came to check on you. I don’t appreciate the attitude, my prince. You’ve been more withdrawn than usual.”
Aegon’s face softened, eyes gleaming from the attention Criston was lathering upon his minuscule ego. He murmured, “This isn’t some scheme from Mother, is it? You merely care for Aemond.” The blonde’s mouth pouted, face eager for a smidgeon of praise.
“No. I care for all of you. What’s going on Aegon? You surround yourself in Flea Bottom, but you seem lonely around the Keep. I notice more than you think.” Criston was not lying when he said his piece. Aegon irked him but he held affection for all of Alicent’s children. He also knew Aegon sought touch and affirmation in the lowest of places.
Aegon’s face softened, his body still bared to Criston’s sight. He mumbled, cheeks flushing, “I am already an idiot fool, I can’t fight, nor will I be as smart as Aemond. What is the saying? The black sheep.”
Criston placed a knee on the plush bed, leaning to cup a full cheek. He replied, “The black sheep of the family, yes. Although I believe that title is for the bitch on Dragonstone. You don’t trust yourself enough, hm? You never gave yourself a chance.”
Aegon nuzzled into his palm, eyes growing teary and cheeks flushing. He inhaled a bit, body shifting. The prince complained, “Why are you here? To make me feel worse? It’s too late. This is what I am. I’d rather be drunk than try and be laughed at more.”
Criston put his other knee on the bed, climbing towards Aegon. He purred, “So you’d rather spread your legs like a two stag whore and guzzle wine, feast and fuck your life away?” Aegon whimpered softly as Criston jerked the prince underneath him, pulling him up by thick hips.
“Ah- what are you doing?”
“Maybe you’ll learn some worth if I fuck it into you, pretty princeling,” He quipped back, fingertips digging into pliant flesh. He felt good. Too good. Aegon squirmed but Criston had him pinned under his toned frame. The prince whined, “Why, don’t, this is...no!”
“Your wanton pussy says no to me then? How strange,” Criston hummed, “Aemond would never defile a sept like you have. Disgusting.” The pale body under him struggled, tears pouring from the blonde’s eyes. Criston reached around to grab at a rock-hard cock, laughing meanly as he gave tentative pumps.
“Truly are a deviant. You probably dreamed of this,” he groped Aegon’s fat belly, “A glutton too. You were so slim. What happened? Aemond had a pudgy face. You’ve got tits now.”
Aegon mewled pathetically, bucking back into Criston’s hips. He whined, “Stop it, stop it, s’not that bad!” Criston snorted, grabbing a handful of chubby tits, Aegon sobbing and shivering. The knight pinched at the stretched nipple and swore, “Plump little princess. Content to laze around and get her pussy fucked all day. You have no conviction. No ambition to rule your kingdom.”
Criston reached over to grab the oil, Aegon’s sniveling music to the marcher’s ears. The prince tried to sneer, “Y-you swore to be chaste, you already fucked that up! Picking another Valyrian again?”
“No, no, simpleton. As much as I disgustingly lusted for a Targaryen princess on my cock, I have doubled over my faith. This is merely a lesson for you. Smart girl, wish you used your bigger head more, it is a scheme from your mother,” his gloved hand cracked across Aegon’s peachy ass, “As I pondered, figured you’d be apt to listen with a cock up your cunt.”
Teary doll eyes and trembling lips stared over a pale shoulder. Aegon’s white hair hung limp in his face. He tried to squirm again, pissed off, by his swears and leg kicking out. Criston shoved the softling by his neck, Aegon crying out in frustration.
The knight reached back for that discarded rope, yanking Aegon’s skinny wrists up and trying them. Criston hissed, “Goddamn brat. That’s what you are. You’re going to listen and maybe I’ll make your needy pussy feel good.” He was disgusted with himself— Aegon’s strangled moans were delicious.
The headboard clattered as Criston tested the ties. He took a moment to murmur, “Too tight?” Aegon rasped, heaving a sob, “N-no! Fuck me already! Make your point!” Criston’s lips quirked up, sliding a calloused thumb over Aegon’s twitching entrance, drawing a pitiful whine.
He poured oil over the twitching pucker, slicking his gloved fingers up. Criston had no experience with this but he knew an ass had no lubrication. Therefore, it was his job to open Aegon up. The prince squirmed impatiently, blotchy red cheeks ripe with embarrassment.
Criston could be gentle. But the leather whip told him otherwise. He pressed two fingers against the tight ring, trying to work himself in with circular movements. Aegon mewled, chubby thighs trembling, arching his back into a thick crease. Dark eyes hungrily watched Aegon's softened body fold and shake, idly worried why he thought it to be so fetching to the gaze.
“You’ve let yourself go to seed. No better than some lord's fat spoilt daughter. You’ve seen Aemond,” his other hand pinched Aegon’s back roll meanly, grinning at the prince’s whimpery pleads, “He’s lean and talented, even with one eye. You could’ve built yourself up in the yard.”
Aegon cried out as Criston’s oily fingers dipped inside the ring of muscle, the knight roughtly shoving them in deep. Aegon thrashed at the burn, cock bobbing against his drooping gut. The elder continued, “You might’ve been decent with a sword. Maybe you could read up and try to be smart? Aemond studies for hours.”
Criston cruelly jabbed his fingers in short thrusts as Aegon whined and babbled, “I- I can speak Valyrian! Stop talking about him now!” Aemond made Aegon’s hackles raise easily— the dutiful brother, the better son, the beloved. Alicent had eyes for the special son and his monstrous dragon.
Criston’s fingers curled against a nub that make the softling jolt in his ropes, throwing his wild hair back. The knight raised a brow— he’d heard Aegon talking about a spot that made the male whores squeal once. This must be it.
“I’m merely giving you some advice, Aemond excels. I could get you into fighting shape, hm?” He drug padded tips against the little spot, Aegon breathily moaning, “Ser Criston, Ser, please! No more about him!”
“Should’ve been born with a cunt. Let him breed you up with pretty Valyrian babies. You’re close enough anyways, always crying and needing your achy cunt pleased. Tits and hips made for babes. Greedy, greedy, greedy,” he tutted. Criston eagerly thrust his fingers, a grin plastered on his handsome face, eyes feral. The squelching added to Aegon's embarrassment, desire, and needs.
Aegon made a desperate noise, shivering all over. Criston flipped Aegon onto his back, seeing the fuss. The prince whined as his wrists twisted, eyes turned away, pouty lips swollen from biting. Criston eyed the milky cum decorating Aegon’s striped lower belly.
“Whore. Is that what we have to do to keep you in line? Keep you fucked out, drunk, and fed?” He snarled, face dangerously close. Aegon spread his thick thighs, tears leaking down his fat cheeks. The prince moaned “Fuck meeee, fuck meee, please just fuck me! I’ll be good!”
Criston groped at a tender breast, demanding, “You’ll be a good what?”
Aegon sulked as he huffed, eyes finally on Criston’s dark gaze. The knight slapped his fatty thigh, the prince wailing, “Your good little princess! The princess! Yes! I’ll listen!”
The brunette cooed, “Good girl, you’ll get your pussy fucked again. Such a lustful sort. Gorgeous whore. Look’it you.” His soiled gloves took their time squeezing Aegon’s curves. He hooked his fingers into a deep belly button, and the blonde began to whine again. His once-softened cock was already straining against his stomach.
“What? Gods. Surely all this blubber doesn’t turn you on? You need a corset, my Princess,” he laughed again.
Aegon stammered, “N-no, all this touching. S'sensitive.”
“Mhm, sure Aegon, you think I don’t see you at supper? Never miss supper do you? Ruled by your own greed. How will you be king? We’ll be penniless! Easy for your uncle and sister to take over.”
"I'll listen, you can be my hand, keep me in line," Aegon wetly cried, "Please, please, Serrr, need it."
Criston hummed in contentment, stretching black gloves against ivory thighs, spreading Aegon wide open. He smirked at the way Aegon's belly bunched into two thick rolls, forcing his little tits up. The knight swallowed down drool, he mustn't lap or suckle. He had to break his prince down some more.
The dark haired knight reluctantly leg go of a thigh, eyes drifting from Aegon's used hole. He grabbed that carved cock from earlier, slathering the earlier discarded oil onto it, something floral scenting the pungent air. The prince mewled and spread his legs, puffy lips swollen and spit-slick. Criston muttered, "Where the fuck do you even get these things...this one is lumped.."
Aegon panted, "S'for that spot."
"The spot that makes the spoilt princess squeal?"
Violet eyes watered some more, Aegon swallowing down a whine, softly pleading Criston- promising his utmost attention, duty, and service. Only if the Kingsguard would just use the toy! Criston smiled darkly, shoving the bulbous tip of the ebony cock into Aegon's stretched hole. The younger cried out, back arching again, almost sobbing with pleasure.
The marcher focused on settling it deep inside, pleased with the knowledge it would rub Aegon's tiny sweet spot raw. His hands were still gloved, he might fuck around with Aegon's small pink cock. Criston began to pump it in and out, watching tied wrists struggle as Aegon whimpered and moaned.
He shifted further forward, white garments rubbing against sensitive skin. It was as if Criston was practically fucking Aegon now, hand holding the toy being pistoned by his hips. His other hand groped its way up Aegon's flushed body, thumbing and pulling at a puffy nipple. Criston shook his head, commenting, "Your tits are growing princess, look how eager you are, shoving them into my palm."
He pinched harder, Aegon crying out in pleasure-pain. Criston leaned forward to hiss "We need to do something about your teat before they're bigger than your wife's. I expect some riding and training, yes?" Aegon babbled and sniffled, nodding along, slurred promising. The elder smiled down, easing his grip, patting Aegon's cheek.
"S-Ser, harder, I beg of you, m'close, I'll be sosososo good!"
"If you continue to be good after this, then you'll be rewarded every time. I think that's a good plan," Cole remarked, hand drawing dangerously close to Aegon's flushed prick, "I always have to handle you brats anyways. You're just a brattier princess who needs special treatment. Like your fucking bitch sister."
Aegon's thighs and ass clenched down on the thick cock, hitching on a warbling sob. The Kingsguard licked his lips, suddenly aware he was biting at them. He leered as he gripped the handful of cock, thumbing at the leaking tip. Cole reminisced with a frown, "Rhaenyra was more pliant after I played with her clit too, I guess you two are more similar than I thought. Deceptively pretty."
The prince's breathing had grown so thin it was as if he was breathing through a straw, eyes wide and lolling around, mewling and carrying on. Criston kept ranting, raising himself into a tizzy, "Luckily your hungry cunt will be attended to. Only in the keep. Until you can prove yourself to be competent! Can you respond to that?"
Aegon babbled, squirming from the pressure on his oversensitive cockhead, the Kingsguard fucking the carved toy into his ass, dragging across that little gland. Criston hummed, "There we go, the princess can behave when her clit's being rubbed hm? S'too much? You're leaking all over me, messy girl." He was having absolute joy with this, Aegon wailing and painting his soft tummy repeatedly, pearly seed shining on his pallid skin.
He'd roughened his touches, drove that ebony cock harder, lost in Aegon's cries. The poor thing busted again, begging for mercy, red-faced and spent. Criston felt that was enough, easing the toy out. He scooped up the copious seed and fed it into Aegon's slobbery lips, the whore lapping it up dutifully, hazy eyes the picture of a sweet royal. A good, well-behaved Targaryen.
Criston patted his cheek again, humming, "Good. I expect to see you at dinner. Then we shall discuss further plans. Whore."
He crawled off the bed, taking off his messy gloves and tucking them away with a shiver. Disgust crawled up the knight's spine. He turned toward the window as he put his armor back on. Aegon whined, "W-where are you going? Can we not talk about the plans here?"
He glared at the sot, scoffing, "Not like that we will. Get yourself cleaned up, I'll be taking my leave. Listen to as I have told you, Aegon. Criston donned his cloak, inwardly counting how many flogs he would receive for his sin. For the wetness in his breeches. For his hardened cock and desire for Aegon's wanton nature.
Aegon arrived at dinner well-behaved, quiet, and sipping his wine. He cast uneasy looks between Ser Criston and Alicent. The queen smiled, "I know you would help, Ser Cole, he looks better already." Criston watched those pouty lips tremble. Perhaps it soothed the scarred tissue of his heart caused by another. His lips quirked up as he bowed his head, "No issue, my queen, Aegon needs a firmer hand."
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Santa’s Otto
This is a sequel to Obi's Place and a prequel to Aster's Maze.
It’s been a while since I last posted, and a fair bit has happened with me and Aster, but that’s something that’s still developing. Being in a relationship with a magical being is not something that’s been mapped, outside of Greek fables, so we are still finding our way with it. Suffice to say we are both very happy and very together. Both of us have grown quite a bit. Physically, mentally and spiritually shall we say. (And by that I mean quite a lot more physically than the other two). But I think that that's a story for another time. I want it to be mine for a little longer.
Anyway, as Christmas is coming up, I thought I would tell you about an encounter I had, just a few months before meeting Aster. As it turned out, it wasn't actually me meeting a fae, but it definitely gave me some confirmation, and I think some of you will really enjoy this story! It’s about the time I met Santa in Germany. Yes, I know how that sounds, but you’re going to have to bear with me.
I’d headed to Europe a few months earlier and was working my way through some possible sightings. I hadn’t seen or met another being like Obi yet, but I’d definitely picked up some promising clues. A few things which I thought were legit, had led me to northern Germany where I immediately hit a dead end. German Christmas’ are some of the best in the world so I decided to stay a few weeks and have a break from the search. I’d been enjoying the sights of some famous local castle, and was feeling a bit hungry so I popped into a medium sized shopping mall I’d seen earlier and headed in. It was pretty quiet, which was strange considering it was the Saturday before Christmas but as I was walking through looking for something to eat, my eye was drawn to an incredibly hot man doing some maintenance work. He was dressed in an overall but it was open all the way down to his waist, revealing an incredibly toned physique. His very worked on, defined abs were covered in a delightful amount of belly fur all the way up to his thick neck and he was very much my type. I paused for a moment to drink him in and watched as he heaved some large boxes as if they were nothing. He was maybe an inch taller than me with broad shoulders and a thick head of dark messy hair with a fade at the sides. His beautifully pale European skin along with his darker hair and smattering of freckles was very striking. His face was covered in just the right amount of stubble to make him look rugged but not scruffy. But the crowning glory was his eyes! They were a vibrant pale blue that practically shone out from his face. As he turned and bent down to pick up the next box, I was surprised that his rounded meaty ass didn’t burst out of those overalls. They were unfortunately doing a good job at holding back all that muscle. I shook off my horny reverie and made a note to come back round after lunch to see if he was still there. Following my nose, I headed in the direction of food and found a little pop-up Christmas food court. I indulged in a few thick sausages and some delightful potato and apple cakes which were not bad at all. I took another couple of sausages to go and headed back the way I’d come, hoping to catch the hot maintenance guy again.
I hung around near where I first saw him for a good twenty minutes before I heard a commotion a bit further down. I walked over to where the sound was coming from and saw the festive grotto. Santa had arrived for the Christmas display. Kids were clamouring round excitedly and as I watched I saw Santa make his way through the crowds. I was yet again surprised to see that this was not your average sad old failed actor, living out his last working years as the big red fat man for a few euros an hour. This guy was young and vibrant. His broad shoulders were straining the limits of the outfit, with the white fur trim (probably real, this is Europe after all!) curving round and showing off the enormous belly. At first I assumed it was padded but it definitely caught my eye. The guy was so clearly stacked that the belly looked almost comical. It was almost perfectly round and stuck out a good foot and a half from this guy's toned body. As I watched him moving around I started noticing that the belly wasn’t squishy like a pillow would have been. It had a certain heft to it that I was very familiar with. I moved forward to get a better look and saw a kid, who wasn’t paying attention, get under his feet, tripping him up. He fell backwards onto a small elf house and levelled it. As he fell, his red coat came undone and I got a good glimpse of the huge round furry belly that was contained underneath. It was a thing of beauty, rounded and perfectly formed. Covered in dark thick hair with a small and neat belly button. He quickly pulled himself up and closed the coat, laughing it off. As he adjusted his fake white beard I caught a glimpse of his piercing pale blue eyes. I’d seen them before. Was the maintenance guy? What the fuck? I’d seen him an hour before and he was practically an underwear model. Either he’d got a Hollywood level makeup and prosthetic artist hidden round the back or there was something fishy going on.
My mind was racing. If that belly was real, it had to have grown in less than an hour? Who was he? Was this guy somehow a Fae? A crazy thought passed through my mind, was this actually Santa? I know I’d chased round the world for less weird ideas but the idea that Santa might have been real, was still a bit out there, even for me. Also, more importantly, did I have a crush on Santa?
I waited around till his shift ended. I couldn’t keep my eyes off this guy's belly. It was incredible. There was no flab or excess blubber, it looked like a solid mass of muscle over a huge sphere of gut. Well, like I was after Obi! I couldn’t lose this guy. This was the closest I’d come to answers in months. It was fascinating to watch him in action, the kids were captivated by him, and so were the parents. I couldn’t help but notice that he paid a fair bit of attention to some of the more hot dads, often touching them on the arm as he laughed at their bad jokes.
A few hours later, I saw him waving goodbye to the children before disappearing behind the grotto. I followed him and waited till he was alone. I approached him quietly so he didn’t have time to bolt and tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped out of his skin and span round, yet again revealing his massive ball belly as his coat flapped open. I introduced myself and told him I’d enjoyed his performance. Fortunately, he spoke very good English and understood me. He cautiously introduced himself as Otto and shook my hand. He took his beard off and I saw his face up close. It was so odd to see such a handsome and chiselled face sporting such a huge gut but there they both were. I didn’t really know where to go from there so I simply came out with it. I saw him an hour earlier and he had no belly. Now here he was with a 150 lbs beer gut. What was the deal? Was magic involved?
He stared at me for a little while, clearly weighing up what to say. I wasn’t sure if he was gonna bolt so I got myself ready for a chase, but suddenly he burst out with a hearty laugh and pulled me in for a hug. His belly pressing against me hit home how real it was. Our bellies pushed against each other with a satisfying thunk. As he pulled back he put his hands on either side of my belly and gave me a squeeze. As you know I’m not skinny myself, a few months of trying to eat myself into the same state as I was when Obi finished with me had added a few pounds to my bulk. Simply by touching me, Otto knew instantly that something magical had happened to me and asked me who I’d met. I told him about my encounter in the cafe and he nodded and smiled as if he understood. When I’d finished, he told me that my story was familiar and thanked me for telling it and turned to go. I reached out and grabbed his arm and asked him to tell me his story. He smiled and told me that it wasn’t going to be that simple.
We chatted for a while and worked out the terms of our agreement. As is always the way with these magical types there was always some sort of bargain or deal to be had. He agreed to answer 5 questions but to answer the questions I would have to eat something of his choosing. Now I’m not able to eat the amount I did when Obi was around but I’m still an accomplished eater. I agreed to the terms and we headed to the Christmas food market. He found us a delightful booth made from wood, with garlands of holly and pine branches covering the roof and headed off for my first meal. He returned with three of the sausages I’d already eaten. They were so good I was happy and I set about eating them whilst he sat there with a smile on his face enjoying a large European litre of beer. I thought about my first question and went with it. ‘Are you Santa?’ He scratched at his stubble and smiled a wry grin. ‘No’ he said smugly and lumbered off to get my next meal. I was pissed that my question wasn’t quite right. I needed to ask something more open ended. I was still thinking about what to ask when he returned with a thick crepe, stuffed with cheese and bacon and covered in more cheese. I grabbed a wooden set of cutlery and started eating.
As I finished, I began feeling a little full. Seven hot dogs, a pancake and some of those amazing apple potato fritters were heavy and not insignificant. I leant back and gave my belly a rub whilst I formulated my question. I needed a question that would make him give me more information than yes or no. I needed to find out if he was human and if not what he was. It came to me. ‘When did you first find you could grow an instant belly?’ His blue eyes twinkled, clearly impressed by my question. Draining the last dregs of his beer he leant back to match my position and began.
‘I was just out of university and was back living with my parents. I’d decided by then that I wanted to do something practical and started training as an electrician. It was Christmas Eve and I’d been out with my friends and came home pretty drunk and I crashed. Now I was pretty into the gym at the time and I had a killer body. Well, I guess you'd have seen it if you caught me earlier? Anyway, I woke up Christmas morning with this thing pinning me down!’ He grabbed his belly and attempted to shake it but it didn’t really move.
‘I had no idea what had happened and if I’m honest I sort of assumed it was the beer from the previous night. I thought I’d had an allergic reaction or something. Anyway, I went to the hospital to get checked out and they were baffled. No one could explain what had happened to me. With no answers I headed back to the gym and started training. I had 160 lbs to lose and I wanted it gone quickly. I hadn’t lost my muscle mass and so training was relatively easy. It took me 10 months in total but I managed it and got back into shape. I was maybe 20 lbs more than when I got the gut but it was all muscle mass so I was very much back in shape. I thought it was all behind me and then a few months later I woke up on Christmas morning yet again looking like I was pregnant with triplets. No one could tell me what had happened and so it all started again. Five years that happened for. Five years.’
I waited for more but that was all he was giving me. I went to ask another question and he stopped me and headed off. So he wasn’t a magical being. Something had happened to him? And why did it always happen on Christmas Day? What was the link? He returned with a huge turkey sandwich, dripping with gravy and cranberry sauce, with a side of roast vegetables. Yet again I dove in, all the time formulating my next question. Something was not quite right here. How did he go from ballooning every Christmas Day to being able to do it seemingly at will, in an hour? I was missing something here? I had three questions left and I didn’t want to waste one of them. I finished the sandwich (best one I’ve ever had by the way) and posed my next question. ‘Did you find out why this happened to you?’ He smiled again and nodded. I instantly regretted my wording. I’d given him a yes or no question again. He paused and offered me a lifeline. ‘Ask me about him?’ He pointed at the mural painted on the ceiling above us of a jolly Santa riding his sleigh across the sky.
That was all he was willing to give me and he left me to work on my fourth question. I needed to ask something about Father Christmas and how he was involved. So Father Christmas was real? My mind raced as I tried to get comfier in my chair. I was feeling the bloat now. The cheese in that pancake was sitting very heavily on my stomach. Otto returned with a bowl of steaming Christmas pudding. He’d brought me a whole one covered in custard that could have fed a family of six. I settled in to eat the fragrant dessert. I was struggling a bit now. It was a heavy thing to pack on top of what I’d already had. Otto was clearly enjoying watching me eat it though. He was on his fourth beer at this point and wasn’t really showing any signs of being drunk. Apparently Germans can really handle their beer.
Finishing the pudding I dropped my spoon into the bowl. ‘Alright.’ I said, belching deeply under my breath. ‘You’ve just told me Santa is part of this. If Santa is real then he’s obviously some sort of magical being or fae. Here’s my question.’ I reached over and put my hand on the top of his massive belly shelf and patted it. ‘How does Santa give you this belly every Christmas Day?’
‘Now we’re getting somewhere!’ Otto added. He drained his beer again and I swore under my fingers I could feel his belly swelling a little bit more. ‘After year five of doctors and experts not knowing why I gained nearly 200 lbs every year, I started getting desperate. I did some research online and put some feelers out there. I wasn’t expecting to find the answers I found! Turns out there are loads of guys like me around the world and we all have several things in common. All of us are over 6 feet tall, and all of us are pretty into fitness or sports. Big solid strapping men. Not one of them knew what was happening to us. That was until I found a guy in Norway who has a theory. He told me this crazy story. He’d heard rumours of this happening for hundreds of years. There were some Norwegian folk tales of trolls who would trick mortal men into being their ‘Magebror’, literally translated as ‘belly brother’. The trolls would then go off and gorge themselves all night and the poor magebror would begin to get fatter and fatter until they would burst open. He thought that we were cursed by trolls and we should simply thank the gods we weren’t bursting open. Obviously I ignored him but the more research I did the more I found out that there were some truths in these myths. It wasn’t something he’d invented but a real fable that appeared in several different folk laws across Scandinavia. I got back in touch with him and he’d vanished, so I headed off to Norway to try and find him. It took me a while but eventually I did. And low and behold he was 6’6 and stacked but with a huge pot belly twice the size of mine. He told me he’d been investigating more and more and had uncovered the truth. It wasn’t trolls doing this to us, it was Father Christmas. I could have punched him in the face. I’d gone all this way only to find that the guy truly was mental. I didn’t even say goodbye. I headed straight back home, gave up the search and tried to lose the weight again before Christmas.’
‘Christmas Eve came and I couldn’t quite shake the idea that this guy had put in my head. I decided to sit up and see if I could stay awake to see what would happen. I nearly didn’t make it but as the clock struck midnight something changed in the house. I felt an electricity in the air and you can imagine my surprise when he landed with a thump in my fireplace. And he was not how I imagined him to look. In front of me was not a fat old man with a grey beard, but a total hunk. He was tall and muscled like I used to be. Clean shaved but with some incredible big dick energy. Like some sort of daddy stud. I don't quite remember fully but I think he did have some ram horns sprouting from his head but they might have been part of the costume? It was a lot anyway. He smiled as if he recognised me. We waited in silence for a few minutes. I was totally enthralled by how attractive he was. I almost didn’t want to ask my question. Eventually I managed to speak and asked why I was gaining weight every Christmas Day. He seemed all too pleased to tell me as he launched into the explanation. It was simple, he had a few billion homes to visit every year and in every country, there was a tradition to leave food out for him. He had to eat millions of cookies and mince pies and treats in just a few hours as he travelled. And so he used magic! He would choose a load of men, all who had the frame to handle the mass, and they would be his magebror. He’d learnt from the trolls how to do it. He would eat the food and they would get fat. I was simply one of a few hundred guys who would wake up with bellies packed full of treats every year so he could stay toned and handsome. And that's why I got fat every year!’
So it wasn’t just me that had encountered these guys. This was finally some proof that what happened to me in that diner was real! The relief for me was immense. I wasn’t going mad. My mind was pulled back to earth as Otto stood to get my final meal. I had one more question. The one thing I didn’t know was how he could do it at will. He’d obviously found a way to control how and when he bulked up. And the intimate question, could he teach me how to do it? He returned with the final meal. A huge ironic plate full of cookies. There were at least a dozen and they were big ones. He slapped them on the table next to a large jug of milk. Obediently and greedily I started eating them. Dipping them in the milk,I was determined to get through them. One by one I swallowed each one down. Adding to the knot of pressure in my already overpacked stomach. My belly was feeling every bite as it distended outwards. Finishing the cookies was tough but I still had a few litres of milk to chug. There was nothing for it but to go for it. Lifting the jug to my lips I poured the cool milk into my stuffed gut. It felt good and horrible at the same time. I could feel my belly actually swelling out and straining my taut T-shirt. As the last of the milk drained down my throat, I slammed the jug on the table. Out of breath I posed my final question. ‘How do you control it? How come you can make your belly swell out when you want it to? How can I do that?’
His eyes sparkled. ‘That was three questions!’ He laughed. He reached over and gave my belly a stroke. He was firm but it was the touch of someone who knew how to handle a distended gut. ‘You’ve done well though! I’ll answer them. When I caught Santa out that night, I was the first one. No one had tracked him down before and he was pleased with me. I don’t wanna kiss and tell but let’s just say I sat on Santa's lap and he gave me a gift! He gave me the same ability that he has. The weight of food he eats, I can manage myself. Meaning I can gain his weight at will, whenever I like. Then all I have to do to get rid of it is touch a guy like he does and he becomes my magebror! I’m not magic so it’s not quite as strong as his abilities are. My magebrors are only temporary and one offs.’
I was so stuffed I didn’t quite pick up on what he was saying but I nodded anyway. That explained why he was touching the hot dads in the queue. The idea of a load of guys walking up tomorrow morning a few pounds heavier was kinda hot. To be honest, I was just relieved that I wasn’t imagining things. He helped me up out of the booth and we walked back through the mall. We chatted a bit more about my experience and some of the leads I’d found. All the while I was painfully aware of how full I was. I couldn’t stop belching as we walked, the movement dislodging the gas. As I walked, I kept one hand on the top of my gut, rubbing my bloated belly to try and ease the pressure. I’d not felt this stuffed for a while and it felt good.
I walked him back to his truck and he jumped in. As he jumped up I realised he was back to his original toned and lean self. I pointed it out and he just smiled as he drove off. As I stood in the snow processing the information I’d just been given I was interrupted by a ping. I was confused until I realised my trousers had become loose. The ping was my top button from my jeans. I looked down to see my belly was twice the size as it was when I had finished eating. I realised that he’d touched me as he helped me out of the booth. I had become his magebror! My belly had to be close to the same size it was when Obi had his way with me. I smiled as I explored my swollen belly with my hands. Also, it wasn’t lost on me that I’d just had a conversation with someone who had fucked Santa.
#belly expansion#gainer fiction#gay gainer#stuffing#belly fiction#gainer stories#male gaining#stuffing art#gainer story#gainer artwork
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